MUSINGS ON THE CRICKET AND WIMBLEDON

In the unlikely event....

We hear these words repeatedly issued as a warning, on a plane apropos of a forced landing on water ( which by the way has never successfully occurred from 35,000ft with an jetliner). But for those who make up the rules in sport, the committees who determine what will have to be done in order to separate a winner from a loser in contest where there is literally no difference...those words are paramount. In the unlikely event, we have to decide. 

And so it was on two hallowed greens in London, where two epic contests took place at the same time whose denouements also arrived concurrently, finishing within seconds of each other. This confluence posed the greatest of technical challenges for those wanting to savour both events, alternating between channels, mobile phone coverage, and competing family activities. 

And both outcomes were decided by the rules makers in some room well before the event, a grab bag of regulations and tricks that the sporting gods reached into in order to fashion the most incredible series of sporting moments this year, or perhaps ever. A super over. A fifth set tiebreak at 12-12. Hawkeye. Reviews of points, of throws, of catches, of serves, of line calls with arms extended or umpire’s fingers pointing to the sky. Arcane decisions about the ball ricochetting off of a prone and diving batsman’s bat to score the most unlikeliest of six runs. Or whether or not a line call was late. Stepping on the boundary to concede another crucial six. Hitting the tape three times in one game and dropping kindly over the net. Match points saved (the tape again).  Big run targets on last overs. The perfect throw for the ultimate runout. A countback on boundaries to decide a world championship. 

And all designed to eliminate ambiguity but instead having the side-effect of shredding nerves and taxing the heart. To enthrall while at the same time to sicken with the fear of falling short.  To feel the agony and the ecstasy pile up one after the other in excruciating sequences. Sequences of unlikely events not even the boffins could possibly have dreamed up. 

Contests which eventually came down to razor thin margins of sporting immortality which stretched credulity to the breaking point.  The boffins were a part of the unlikely process, but one could almost hear the gods smirk aloud as they contrived yet another implausible twist into an impossibly taut string. 

In the unlikely event? 

Don’t make me laugh.