How to write about the Cricket World Cup right now? The murder of Bob Woolmer casts a shadow over everything. It is too fucking awful for words. Which, naturally, doesn’t stop the press from indulging in wild speculation and hordes of writers and blog commenters from playing amateur detectives.
And yet it has been a far more exciting tournament than we might have expected; a mixture of ridiculous, astonishing, shocking, awe-inspiring.
A few months ago predictions focused on an unstoppable Aussie procession to pyjamas domination. Yawn. But then they got beaten (three times…) by a crap one-day team led by a chap who, it transpires, can’t even keep a pedalo the right way up. The Aussies have been hit by injuries. And for all the record-breaking, they might even be beatable.
Two south Asian teams are going through to the second round, and neither of them is called Pakistan or India.
The aforementioned crap team, however, made it through the first round, which is something of a marvel. Their fans will probably get over the shock just in time to watch them crash out of the ridiculous so-called Super Eights. (Mind you, the way things are going England – captained by Monty, as by then Vaughan will have fallen over one pothole too many, and Collingwood will have managed to shock even Ian Botham by being caught high on cocaine in a strip joint – will probably be in the final. And lose. To Ireland.)
It’s been an unbelievable fortnight.