Why does it always rain on me?

At the outset, I must mention that Mort is one of my favorite people. That's the caveat. The real point to be made is that he's been getting on my nerves lately about how I've abandoned the blog. Obviously, it is lost on him that there is only so much room for fabrication of profound opinion on Mr Ganguly. And let's scroll down and notice I've pretty much used it all. It has now become about as easy to root for Saurav Dada as it is to get Morty to discuss his secret admiration for Karan Johar.

Well, regardless, while I'm here, allow me to opine briefly on the latest bumblings of Captain LumberJack. This way, Mort can shut up about my flak-ish tendencies for atleast a week and I can gloat over the Great Indian Circus' latest antics. Surprise, surprise - the Aussies and the West Indians are far better prepared for this faux League than all the good men who attended a clandestine training camp somewhere south of the Vindhyas. Mr Tendulkar is now done with his yearly quota of brilliance. We can now look forward to a series of 29's and 14's. And it turns out Mr Chappell is way too busy to bother with budding talent and way too dynamic to stick to one friggin' batting order. Mort, what was it that we wagered a steak on? It wouldn't be on the endless gold rush that Mr Dravid is on, would it? Not to rain on his parade or anything - because apparently that is a good thing these days.

- Bart