Thanks, But No Thanks

I think I can finally say the IPL has kind of hit the wall for me. Yeah I admit I was excited at the start and my cheeks redden slightly at the thought of being suckered in by the whole thing. But what was I to do? My head started spinning at the prospect of all these great players in one arena battling it out for the right to be IPL champions. Oh how young and foolish I was to have been wooed in by such cheap and underhand tactics.

I now feel like I have somehow been cheated, short changed at the cricket checkout which I only found out once I had got home and it was too late to go back.

Why? Well I'm not sure, I mean on paper it has the lot, the best players, scarily excited crowds (which I read recently a large majority of are let into the stadiums for free), boundaries every other ball and cheerleaders to celebrate runs and wickets. So whats the problem? It's a little like a mathematical conundrum where I have all the data and figures but just can't seem to get them to add up. Whatever the problem is I just can't seem to stop this empty feeling I now get when I think about the IPL. The solution? Ah, well that is easier to fathom out.

I need to be nourished, my weak and frail body demanding the gut busting feeling you get out of real cricket. What better way to do this than a trip to the Rose Bowl for a Friends Provident (OK, maybe the 50 over form is a little tired these days) match between Hampshire and Gloucestershire. I expect to leave the ground full to bursting point with good, honest and wholesome cricket. Of course the rain may have something to say about that, but a glimpse of KP swinging his bat about and charging down the wicket will do me just fine.