Who breaks a butterfly, even a really perverted butterfly, upon a wheel?
The International Cricket Council, that's who.
The revoking of the Alternative Commentary Collective's accreditation rights was so silly it was beyond comedy. That they will continue commentary is great, but the fact that they cannot do so from within the grounds still rankles.
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Even with their keen sense of the absurd, Monty Python would have struggled with an appropriate script to sum up an organisation that allows plutocracy to flourish under its watch, yet suddenly finds a voice when a man in an off-white suit steps out of a drinks cart (that he was invited on to by a World Cup sponsor).
A disclaimer: The ACC is an NZME. enterprise, the same company that owns the Herald, but that qualification pales next to the fact that I know some of the guys in the caravan and would even lean towards calling a couple of them friends if I wasn't so scared the ICC might ban me from the Eden Park semifinal.
I like the show. I listen to it for half an hour here and there, laugh for a bit, groan for a bit and remain impressed more by their ball-by-ball coverage than their encyclopaedic knowledge of genitalia.
In the end, I'm a traditionalist, so gravitate back to the blander offerings of grey men. But the show was never designed with me in mind. What they have done brilliantly is bring the non-committed back to the sport with their off-beat observations and humour.
What shines through most, however, is that they love cricket. Really, really love it. Far more than some of those charged with running the game, I'd suggest.