For any sports fan, Leon Gast's documentary When We Were Kings is compulsory viewing. It's a ripping yarn about one of boxing's most memorable battles, the Ali-Foreman Rumble in the Jungle.
Employing archive footage and contemporary interviews, Gast brilliantly chronicles the mad tale of two great warriors consummating their violentagenda, surrounded by a vast and kooky supporting cast of Don King's shadowy showbiz flotsam, amid a swirling 1970s culturalsoup.
One of the film's most compelling clips is a brutal montage of the young George Foreman's victory over then champion Joe Frazier. In the manner that a cat bats a dying mouse around the kitchen floor, Foreman bludgeons Frazier to the canvas six times in a round and a half before the referee humanely intervenes.
This image has come to my mind increasingly often in this World Cup.
On several occasions it has seemed as if it's not a fair fight when, armed with only a small white sphere and a look of grim determination, the unfortunate bowler ran in to confront his executioner.
It has been particularly gruelling for some of the affiliate nation teams, whose tiddler bowling attacks have at times been dismembered in gruesome fashion. During the two innings where more than 400 was pasted against a couple of the lesser cricketing powers, it felt as if a mercy killing would have been the most sporting option to take.
Of course we Kiwis identify heavily with the underdog (six months in a leaky boat and all that; no KFC until 1974) so the romantic notion of motorcamp battlers tipping up the Misters at the Hilton appeals to us greatly.
Sadly this Boys' Own script is almost always torched on game day.
In reality the challenge presented to a swarthy Afghani medium pacer bowling to Chris Gayle in full flight, or a squat Scot wheeling down some nude off-spinners at AB de Villiers at his most creative is just too great.
But please don't misinterpret my angst when witnessing these moments as anything other than empathy for the outmanoeuvred.
And I don't mean to disparage the abilities of the moderate amateurs on show because the presence of the weeny bopper nations has added so much to the flavour of the cup.
It's just that despite the carnival atmosphere of the crowd getting more catching practice than the fielders, scores of 400-plus are a bit on the embarrassing side.
That said, the only way to improve is to compete and it has been clear from the get go of this World Cup that every nation, regardless of rank and status, has turned up to play.
And we musn't forget that it's not only the minnow teams' bowlers who can take a towelling.
The great Waqar Younis pointed out last week that even the very best of the bowlers are at risk of being belted six ways south of Sunday, having to operate on routinely perfect pitches, with bats getting bigger, the boundaries smaller and the tweaking of the power play rulesall giving batsmen a leg up.
