A warm wind blows gently, from third man to gully and swirls a bit, around silly mid-off.
The batsman trembles as the Perth-born faithful hold their breath in unison.
Collective fear, deep mid-wicket and cold.
Broken bookies beaten before a ball is even bowled.
A frozen Brit swaps Long Wave for digital.
A Shipping Forecast and an Act of Worship
muffles sweat-drenched Aggers' commentary
on seagulls & doctors.
The airwaves screech like banshees bent
on inviting Tasmania's favourite punter to the crease
as he rewrites Toni Basil's finest hour:
"Hey Ricky, what a pity. You can't make a stand.
You miss it with your bat and you nick it with your hand.
Oh Ricky, you're so shitty why you still 'the man'?
It's guys like your wicky Ricky
Who should be captain Ricky, Bradley Ricky.
Go Bradley Haddin Ricky"
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