Book II: End of Act I

I don’t watch a great deal of scripted television.

Oh, I will do a Hulu here and there, maybe a Netflix, but honestly I find most TV programs boring, predictable, and not nearly as good and/or intelligent as most people say (hope?) they are.

I do, however, watch a great deal of sport. And love it because no matter how confident and educated we are in our predictions, the games still have to be played, and the outcome is always in doubt until they are.

There are no “spoiler alerts” in athletic contests. And that’s why I love them. Pure human drama. Unpredictable. Unscripted. Real.

And far more cerebral than most non-sports people think.


If last week someone had told me, for instance, that the Ashes would be heading to Adelaide with Australia up 1-0 over England, I would told them they were crazy. And so would have most sane cricket followers – including a great many in Australia. But that is why we play the games and don’t rely just on computers spitting out formulas and outcomes.

But if last week someone had told me that not only would Australia win at Brisbane, but it would be an all out clobbering, I would have told them they were crazy AND I probably would have called the police and reported a delusional madman on the loose.

Not really but you know what I mean.

Australia looked cool, stylish, talented. They had swagger and panache. And England meanwhile looked lost.



And now we have a series on our hands, which is such fantastic news. I cannot wait to see what Adelaide brings us. And then Perth. Melbourne. Sydney. A competitive five Test series played during prime time hours here in the States.

Spoiler free.

Merry Christmas.

See everyone at the Oval.

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