The scene was a dimly lit Hamilton hotel lobby, and out of the gloom appeared little Brendon McCullum and a couple of tall comrades. It looked like a corgi taking great danes for a walk.
The Herald was there to interview Ish Sodhi, and McCullum - freshly installed as captain - made a detour to ensure his rookie leg spinner was okay.
"These are my thoroughbreds," said McCullum, introducing Tim Southee and Trent Boult. They gave perfunctory handshakes and blank stares, then McCullum led them to a back room to get on with their jobs.
Thoroughbreds? It's hard to imagine Ian Chappell introducing Dennis Lillee and Jeff Thomson in such lingo all those years ago. It's just as hard to imagine Chappell plodding about a lobby with his famous and deadly duo in tow. Lillee and Thommo were self-made men. Southee and Boult are new age projects.
Quick bowlers down the ages have been mean, scary, dangerous, terrifying. Michael Holding was a thoroughbred all right, with the most beautiful run in and bowling action you will ever see. But he was called Whispering Death.
At present, McCullum is half right on the thoroughbred front. Southee is hard to figure. He isn't the same player from day to day. Boult, on the other hand, is on a glorious roll. He is also close to New Zealand's most valuable player. McCullum's explosive batting and captaincy are irreplaceable, but without Boult New Zealand's bowling could fall apart in Sunday's final.
Boult is a fascinating sight. By stereotype, the most famous fast bowlers - Fred Trueman, Lillee, Richard Hadlee et al - had type A personalities with naked aggression to match. They were gunslinger characters. Boult, on the other hand, has the demeanour of that nice boy next door.
Cricket isn't the only sport where positions once reserved for crazy firebrands now welcome a new type of tough guy. In league, props such as Jesse Bromwich and Ben Matulino let their courage, ball skills and footwork do the talking. In rugby, test locks like Victor Matfield, Brodie Retallick and Sam Whitelock would be horrified with an old-style nickname such as Filth.
Sport needs all types, and Boult seems cast from a different mould to contemporaries like Mitchell Johnson and James Anderson. There's no obvious bravado or b!##$%^&. I'm almost scared to write the next sentence. But there's a touch of the Wasim Akram - the finest left armer ever - to Boult. The flow and elegant action also give hope that, unlike many predecessors, Boult is not undone by an injury curse.
Boult has almost effortless pace, a beautiful line, perfectly effective swing and has unleashed a good dollop of unplayable deliveries in the World Cup. His early test figures are decent by world standards, and excellent by New Zealand's. His fledgling one-day statistics are impressive in the big batting age. Numbers and the chance he might join Hadlee and Shane Bond among our greats is not the whole story. Boult's artistry makes him wonderful to watch.
Taylor's out of sorts
Ross Taylor is still out of kilter with what is going on around him. His confused running between the wickets is proof he is struggling to keep his mind on the job. If Taylor scratches around for too long and/or runs another top-order teammate out it could be costly in the World Cup final. The Australians shifted the out-of-sorts Shane Watson down the order ... just saying.