The midnight hour

It’s the witching hour. Dogs begin to bark, bats start to fly as does sleep. Barely nine hours before Gambhir takes strike. Is Dravid’s mind still on strike? Will he sleep, who cares? Does Dravid speak to anyone in the dressing room other than the masseur? Can he massage his ego? Does he still have one? A good time to make a call, speak to an old friend, call Jumbo, call Sri. You’re still in the team, Jammy. Even if you don’t belong, you owe yourself. Whatever that means.