Australian defeats, South African defeats, brilliant fast bowling, feisty batting, 47 all out and everyone feeling profoundly irritated at being massively short-changed by there only being two matches – this was the perfect Test series.
It was better than anything. It was better than turning up at a restaurant and only being allowed to have a starter. “Lamb shanks? Get out. You’ve already had four scallops, you greedy bastard.”
It was better than going to the pub at 7pm and only having time to get one round in before they inexplicably close. “Quarter past seven, mate. I’m not hanging round here to pull you pints all night. What do you think I am?”
It was better than going to a theme park and sitting on a rollercoaster on the initial steep climb only to find there is no more track and so having to get off and walk back down again.
It was better than reading the first 42 pages of a brilliant book only to find that they’ve recycled the rest of the paper to manufacture the junk mail that you threw away that morning.
It was better than being sliced open for much-needed surgery and then being totally neglected and left to bleed to death.