I finished work at 2pm today and got on a tram to go to Uni. I thought i could feel the cricket in the air again. Once more I was concentrating hard on making myself into an antenna tuned into the frequency that cricket transmits over. I though that the tension gripping my stomach and throat must have been about the tightness of the match. When a little burst of excitement ran through me I thought maybe that was the ebb of a wicket. But it must just have been the usual terror that fills me on my way to uni – the terrifying feeling that I might just not be able to handle the boredom that awaits me there. A real fear. In Chepauk it had been raining, and it was continuing to rain. The victory rains of the Lagaan match had come early. Not a ball was bowled. A crushing result. Desert rains washing the orange out of the mud too soon for anyone to enjoy its refreshment, even the birds were sad. Weather is big part of cricket, and just like any other element it can exhibit poor form and disastruous timing. Villainous bloody weather.

Dizzy Gillespie’s persistence on the centre wicket yesterday was repeated today as he waited around like a sad bird for the chance to bowl India out.