A girlfriend-interrupted Boxing Day of cricket - her day with her mother ended in domestic dispute before it even began and the cricket was, sadly, turned off when she awoke around 10. Still, that was enough to pay my repects during the rousing Ode to Warnie and see hometown hero Scotty Bo(w)land take the first wicket. What a deadset legend - next Test Captain? I'll eat my Akubra if he isn't. The only thing better than watching the Aussie 11 taking Pommy wickets is watching Our Boys sticking it to the gormless Springboks. I'm not a racist but I despise South Africans. Not the one I know and work with, they are all actually really solid blokes and we have a great time together, but you just know the rest of them are awful.
The subsequent six or so hours of Test Cricket were most likely (statistically) fairly non-eventful.
The BIG story that began as mere twitterings yesterday after Tea and is now a roaring Dan Brown tsunami of the written word is David Warner's epic comeback. The nags, hacks, naysayers, pundits, et al. had long written young David off - said he was Warn out. Well, speak too soon and your tongue will be cut out and served on a platter with cheeses, cornichons, and other tasty nibbly-bits. His 50 is imminent and you'd be a braver man than me to bet against another 100 on top of that.
You'd be a fool not to heed this Warning. David Warned you - HE'LL BE BACK. (and he is). A true warrior, he's a Knight of Australian - nay, World - cricket. A fixture. A bastion. A rock. Having said that, the selectors must be feeling the pressure and probably best to put him out to pasture before the Ashes.
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