Elsewhere, on this calm morning, India have gone to the beach. After days of fury, it's comforting to know that they're by the sea. There are others making noise for them, burning effigies, posturing, and drawing boundaries. News channels are pulling out old footage to show us that obnoxiousness is an old Australian trait. Historians are apoplectic to the point of madness. Our news anchors look grave and ask questions that are pointed only in appearance. Rajiv Shukla, a politician, defends 'our players'. A great bowler returns to say Australians play hard and fair. Everywhere there is affront and offence. Everywhere there is patriotism of some kind.
A wasteful bowler, the man at the center, becomes a 'Sikh warrior'. Australia's cricketers are called wild dogs, besides much else. What does this say of our ability to transform normal men in to something else? Every flaw has disappeared, and these are either men undone or a pack of dogs.
The umpires too are not spared. A cricketing nation rages around them, trying to have them sacked, demoted, or disappear. Flaws are charming, it says, but not so many. But we cannot have technology doing the job either. So good luck to these umpires, who get 96% of their decisions right, and let us hope for them that god is on their side whenever India plays.
I can think of several people who'd be well-served by a trip to the beach during high tide.