On the spirit of cricket.

Hear that?

That’s the sound of another two cents clattering onto the great floor of opinion beneath which Smith, Bancroft and Warner are walking right now.

They’re flying thick and heavy, creating a seemingly impenetrable wall of nickel-plated indignation and fury, permeated by camera lens flashes like lightning in a storm.

You think that’s a little hyperbolic? Maybe a little OTT?

You’re right, it is. But for the last few days, Australian cricket fans, journalists, commentators and critics have cried havoc and let slip the dogs of… Righteousness? I guess?

I am, of course, referring to the recent ball-tampering scandal that has rocked/shocked/gutted/obliterated/astounded Australian cricketing circles depending on who you ask, involving the elusive ‘leadership group’ of the mens’ Australian cricket team.

My own two cents have been added to the fray, and then snatched back out of the typhoon, and then sent flying back in on a few occasions as well, but I’m taking stock now.

I had something to say, but I’m standing here and my mind is blank. I think I’ve overloaded on tweets, articles, press conferences and opinions to the point where my views on the matter have become a jumbled mess of half-baked conclusions and unfair judgments.

I could make some vacuous remarks about the spirit of cricket, or the responsibility of sporting role-models or something, but it honestly all feels rather tiring.

I suppose it comes down to this. Everyone knows ball-tampering with sandpaper is a violation of sporting spirit. Australian players, and cricketers in general, need to cut it out (the practice, not the sand- look you get it), and just bowl the damned ball. We, the public, will soon realise how little we actually care about the whole thing – humans are fallible, moral superiority is fleeting and heavily contextual, and I’m sure this will not be the last sporting scandal to sweep the nation.

I really don’t know what to say; I’m actually quite surprised. I thought I would be mashing my keyboard with analytical seriousness, but I find myself basking in an unannounced catharsis. Oh well.