WHAT’S the big deal with cricket? I really don’t get it. I fail to see the attraction of 22 men in nerdy outfits who shine their balls on their pants, bowl maidens over and whip out a googly once in a while. Then there are the leg breaks, and the night watchmen and the ducks to come to grips with. Indeed, I’m surprised the terminology alone doesn’t scare most folks off.
As if the jargon isn’t bad enough, spectators are often forced to endure things called “triple centuries” as matches drag on and on. It might be marginally more exciting to watch a week-long snail race than it is to watch a cricket match that goes on for days.
