New Zealand’s cricket team who, since time began, have had the average skillset of a demented sloth face Australia today in the ICC World Cup Final. This is indeed big news, given we scraped into said final by the width of a mosquito’s eyelash against a spirited South African side.
People deal with the tension of a huge game like this in many ways, including (but not limited to) drink, potato chips, floor-pacing, fried chicken with sides of coleslaw and nom-nom potato-and-gravy, and conveying useful coaching tips to the players by screaming at the television. I draw. Any pencil, pastel, or other drawing implement that isn’t bolted down is seized upon. Any piece of paper or card, any cereal no longer requiring its box, any random offspring of mine wandering by with a forehead – all fair game.
On that note, said the conductor, here are Aunt Melda, Standard Cat, and Small Fish – brought to you by Grant Elliott smashing the penultimate ball of the semi-final for six, sending New Zealand into the final, and decorating our lounge in a shower of pencils and crayons.
Good luck to the team in today’s final!