Tuesday, October 02, 2012
I really like the Black Caps. I kind of have to. They represent my country in a summer sport that’s dear to me.
I like them on a personal level too. They’re mostly a bunch of genuine nice guys. Well spoken, polite, intelligent.
I think they’re trying their best too. I don’t believe they go out to lose. As much as their piss poor efforts frustrate me, I haven’t got it in me to fire shots at them after another stumbling effort.
And it’s not because of the reasons above.
It’s because I don’t see the point. It’s not going to achieve anything and I’m bored of it. The fire in my belly over the slipshod performances has burned out. I’m ember guts. I’ve reached an apathetic point in my NZ cricket following.
Sorry guys, you’ve driven me to it. Be it the lack of facilities, the inconsistent order, the chaotic scheduling, the quality of the opposition, the super over system, the injuries, the coaching merry-go-round or the selection pie.
I’ll carry on interviewing them and watching them, because that’s what I do, but the passion that I had is no longer the driving force behind my actions.
Hopefully, that will be re-kindled in the coming months as I feel like a part of me has withered up and fallen off.
I look forward to being enraged by your effort again, because that will mean the return of emotion. It will mean I care again and I want to.
But right now all I can think is, “Thank Christ you’ve been knocked out, I was losing sleep.”
Maybe I should just snap out of it and face up to the fact that beside the odd McCullum firestorm, we’re just not that good.
Maybe I haven’t lost all of my emotion for the team.
I suppose that all depends on the definition of pity.