We’re excited. We have tolerated the build up, condoned the warm-ups, re-lived the epic past battles, ignored the banter masquerading as headlines, kept track of the injuries, soaked deep in the history, grossly hyperbolised the memories and the peak of cricketing and therefore sporting rivalry (sorry India/Pakistan, you weren’t even sovereign nations when we were hurling leather over this urn) and thanked the heavens above that the “Phoney War” is finally at an end.
The other half won’t understand it but sports fans across the world will. Finally, the anticipation coming to a head. This is what we live for. It is the thirst quencher; we’ve reached the well, poured the bucket on our heads, two fingers up to the desert. Who cares where in the proverbial world the well is located, watching the first day of the Ashes is a complete no-brainer (aka a complete “Dave Warner”?). We’re all there. Well, not really there per se, but we’re watching or listening or following. Everyone I know who has ever watched cricket saw the first hour last night. It was practically compulsory, like the FA Cup final or the Grand National or the 100m Olympics Finals. Not even an issue.
The second day on the other hand is the Big One. It is the commitment. It signals an intention, nay the intention, to commit yourself to following the series through each day. If you don’t find it within yourself to make at least that first drinks break tonight, you probably won’t be there the day after. Or the day after that. As for the day after that…erm, are Australia even going to make to the fifth day? Fair point. Ok, you might tune in on Christmas Day night but by then you’ll be halfway through the Series and the Ashes could have been retained. See you then.