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Mohammad Asif drugs Australia.

by Naked Cricket

The ball was like some flutter-freak elusive butterfly – not fast enough to whizz past but that teasing fast that fools you into thinking it’s yours for the grab; you may get your finger tips to it, but it will never be within your grasp.

Asif’s bowling, harmless, inviting, mesmerizing, it was that kind of day; I felt privileged to be awake, early by my standards on a Sunday. And once up, there was no way I could keep my eyes of the ball – the eyes danced as the ball danced, it was a slow, tricky dance, it had disguise, a deep, mysterious, almost comical disguise at that, almost Kathakali like.

There was music to it too; the ball moved to some dead master’s symphony. Mohammad Asif was Maestro. And he had the almost scruffy way of G for genius; inventing as he went along.

And as he played along, he composed a requiem for the Aussie innings.

4 comments:

Lou said...

He makes it talk frequently. Punter gave him the lovely green wicket and the overhead conditions and the ball didn't talk, it sung.

Naked Cricket said...

Hi Lou, sing it did; surely Punter was wearing shades when he saw the pitch or contacts.

The MG said...

Brilliant - twas a requiem indeed, but I think I cried as much at that funeral as a mob boss when his lifelong blood-feud enemy is lowered into the ground...

Naked Cricket said...

Hi TMG, Another ponting fan i take it. cheers