I forced myself to watch some of the T20 game last night in the hope I might find something about the format I could embrace as cricket.
What I saw made me no more in love with the game I can tell you. I watched in abject horror as Ian Bell chanced his arm time after time with shots that although middled flew to nowhere in particular whilst just evading luckless fielders. French cuts and top edges to short boundaries, which had been shortened even further may I add, soon followed.
Kevin Peiterson stepped up and teed of to every single ball he faced until his luck ran out. It was then I decided I had tortured myself enough and I wandered off to masturbate with razor blades.