Work on farm all day but all thoughts on the night ahead.
9.30pm. Sat down in front of tele with wife. Williamson wins toss and chooses to bat. Remember back four years when Jeremy and I, full of adrenaline, alcohol and euphoria had immediately booked cheap flights across the Tasman after the South African semi win only to sit there and watch McCullum recklessly throw his wicket away in the first over having won the toss. Deja vu all over again?
10pm. Nervy start by openers. Remind wife of my cricketing highlight, 106 not out for Norsewood CC. She reminds me of her uncle Guy playing cricket for NZ. Lose boasting battle.
Seventh over and Guppy and Nicholls starting to look like settling in for a big opening innings for a change. Guppy out. Yelled at television for them not to review his LBW decision, obviously plumb. But no one listens to me.
Wife goes get Turkish Delights, gratefully accepted.
Twenty third over. Steady-the-ship Williamson starting to look like settling in for a long innings. Williamson out. Wife goes to bed.
Feel surprisingly good and realise Dry July pledge is working to good advantage. Fourteen days sober. Would normally have dozed off by now spilling red wine from relaxed hand.
Over 34 and Taylor given out LBW for a ball that wasn’t out. Want to yell out “I told you so” but wife asleep and from past experience know to keep quiet.
Decide to drink some coffee just in case. Some friends not answering texts. Turns out progressively fell asleep spilling wine.
Find wife’s phone, have to wake her (not pleased) for her phone’s pin number so can ring her friend, Jeremy’s wife so can discuss game with someone. They are in a motorhome in Belgium and he’s watching on his phone but with a minute of latency must be careful with information that is in his future.
1.30 am. NZ innings limps to a finish. Not enough runs but miracles happen. Go to fridge but slim pickings. Eat three sticks of celery and half a bag of prunes. Seemed like a good idea at the time.
English innings nearly starts with a wicket on first ball. Shout into pillow. Then Roy gone in the sixth, we can do this.
Skyping Jeremy and decide to have fun with him given the latency. Yell that Fergusson just finally bowled Bairstow and it happens. Is this pure co-incidence or some sort of superpower? Jeremy doesn’t believe my story.
Over 24 and we get their fourth wicket, 89 for 4. Celebrate with another stick of celery.
Butler finally out in the 45th, was starting to despair. We are going to win again. Wake up wife and make her come and watch. She hears that Wimbledon is very close and wants to change channels and pulls the “I’m a tennis coach card” but I remain staunch.
We go through those agonising last five overs. Difficult to believe.
What’s a Super Over?
Strong feeling of being robbed.
So full of adrenaline go back out farming without feeling too bad.
Think about writing a letter to Guppy to tell him I love him. Could be misinterpreted. Think about writing to Laura but probably inappropriate.
Sudden need to get back to toilet. Remember celery and prune consumption.
Later in the day, an insect crawling in my sock. Take sock off a couple of times but can’t find the insect. Then feel it while sock off being inspected. No sign of insect on shin. Is this some sort of sleep deprived hallucination?
Remember reading about a doctor who pretends to amputate the limbs of people who have phantom limb pain from limbs that have previously been removed. Not sure if my phantom insect would qualify.
Go home to tell wife but she is watching a repeat of Wimbledon and not very interested.
Hear the Stokes deflection was actually only five runs.
Pleased this whole thing was against the Poms and not the Aussies.
The Poms need a break given Brexit and the imminent crowning of Boris.
Go to bed at 9pm.
