Modestly onwards

All I know about this series is:

1. Burns and Khawaja are in the squad. 

I have seen this headline with a helpfully illustrative photo 4 or 5 times over the last week or so. I do not know how it can be a headline story that many times, but there it is. I wish them well.

2. McCullum and Smith: Worst. Trashtalkers. Ever.

McCullum: Rowr.
Warner: Grr.
McCullum: Rowr: the Sequel.
Smith: Um, grr.

This also seems to have been fleshed out into the limpest of "sagas". They're reaching, aren't they? I'm surprised no one has waved Chris Cairns under McCullum's nose, but that would just be rude, and these guys just aren't. Which is why it all seems very pumped up.

And Judi, Judi, Judi*, YOUR HAIR.

I've always thought a lot less happens in sport than there is media space to fill, so pretty much anything will do as a scoop. I look forward to something happening today, though I have also started wondering whether sport is like music: what was playing during your formative years always has a special intensity that later stuff won't ever live up to. You start going "it's not like it was before, they all look the same..." I've now been watching for long enough to have a "golden age" to look back on. It's an optical illusion, newness and shininess is in the eye of the beholder, but I suspect I'm going to have to accept a certain loss of magic.

* Steve Smith = Judi Dench IS A THING. If Ramiz Raja is with you, you are at the right party.

Dancing boys

Well I wasn't wrong about New Zealand bringing their traditional dash. Holy moley they punch above their weight in impossible good looks and general Uprightness. Daniel Vettori is old news to me, but I'd overlooked Brendon McCullum. Dean Brownlie! Doug "Bounce Me and I'll Flash my Dimples at You" Bracewell! And I don't mind a man who comes back for seconds, thank you very much Mr Easy Ryder. I'm glad they've nevertheless kept a spot open for a "Goofy-Looking Guy called Chris".

My friend Rachel and I used to amuse ourselves casting members of the New Zealand cricket team in 19th-century novels. Chris "Darcy" Cairns. Daniel "Slightly Diffident but is it Because he has a Sad Secret?" Vettori. Adam "Natural Son by Creole Temptress" Parore.

A couple of things.

Day 1: Hilarious first over. All that sawdust. More cowbells!
Day 2: When Vettori reached 96, I wrote a note: "out on 99?". Close. Somewhere Shane Warne whispered one of his spells into the winds and made it happen.

And then somehow or other at the end of the first day I found myself with a ticket to Hobart next weekend. It happened in a bit of a flurry but there it is, I'll be touching down early morning of Day 3. Bellerive's the only major cricket ground in Australia I haven't visited, and maybe Ricky will do something.

Obviously I am "Intrepid Maiden Lady Traveller" from an early 20th-century novel. Bring me my Baedeker!