Well, holy crap, The Ashes is still going. For a series that has only used 14 of the 20 possible days so far, it seems to have been around long before the universe willed itself into existence with whatever force is science’s current preferred stance on that occurrence’s likeliest method. For us Australians still aware of The Ashes continued presence on the sporting landscape, we are aware that, mercifully, if recent form is anything to go by it shouldn’t take too long until it is all over.
Of course, the two and a half days of cricket until that unavoidable eventuality will no doubt feel like about two and a half months. It is interesting that a sport that holds itself up as the toughest examination of a sportsman’s will, can become comically one-sided if one of the combatants finds itself not up to such an examination.
For me, I will watch and hope for some kind of sign that a heart exists in the chest of at least one of our top six batsmen that isn’t Chris Rogers. I expect, however, to shake my head, or my fist, at my TV with every unnecessary defensive prod outside the off stump that claims a neat edge and gently whistles at waist height to the waiting English slip cordon.