But cricket was different. From the moment I had grasped the basics of the game, I was all in. It’s hard to explain, but it was a little like a superhero origin story – the teenager who wakes up one morning to find she has an entirely new identity. Overnight, some biological anomaly, or perhaps a minor cosmic event galaxies away, has rearranged the...
We hero-worship people not just because of who they are, but because of who we are, too.
because the laws of probabilities, of Murphy and of Sod all agree that if I am wearing the only crisp white shirt I own I will absolutely, definitely drop porridge down it.
I confidently asserted that I would be joining England’s tour of the West Indies as a cricket correspondent and the newly-wed wife of the team captain. I’m not sure I’d thought through the conflict of interest.
But I wasn’t a cricketer, and I had no influence over the results – I couldn’t stop England losing if I tried.
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