the person who gave me my love for 'the metaphysical game' is slowly but surely waving me good-bye.
It's not an ex-boyfriend, but a primary nurturer-carer-giver.
But cricket is leaving behind its old self-image, too.
The hoo-haa over Cap'n Collingwood and the collision last Wednesday at the Brit Oval means that this 'self-image' still matters. But - I keep on thinking this - what if that match was being played for the proverbial $20 million in Antigua? What then? Wherefore the 'spirit' of the game then?
Just like the octogenarian who gave me my love for cricket, that rather Edwardian concept of the game is quietly slipping away.