Obviously I came to Edgbaston mostly because of Sehwag, and that was ruined after 5 minutes.
So then what?
All you can really do is test the new facilities of the press box.
So while Gambhir and Dravid seemed to have the situation under control, I christened the toilets for the Warwickshire board.
There I was, enjoying myself, it came out well, seemed to float, and reinforced my new decision to eat a lot of spinach.
I couldn’t hear the cricket, I’d had forgotten my stupid little radio that never works.
Then all of a sudden there was a deep voice that said, Sachin Tendulkar.
That was all.
I was alone in the toilet having strange voices beaming the name of one man.
It instantly had more meaning than anything I had ever heard before.
Surely this low toned man was the voice of an angel, and he had chosen this moment to pass on the name of Sachin Tendulkar so that I knew something special was about to happen.
This voice was aimed squarely at me. It wasn’t an accident. It was kismet.
I came out of the toilet feeling like I had been touched by something larger than me that really mattered.
It was spiritual and crickety, and my outlook had been changed by it.
Then I noticed that Sachin Tendulkar was out in the middle, and I thought that maybe I’d had some sort of vision or calling, dragging me from the newly polished special press toilets out to see Sachin.
It turned out that it was actually that the Edgbaston press boxes weird have a weird PA system that just picks and chooses words it pipes through the back of the building.
It was handy to know when a batsman was coming out, especially since these toilets seem soundproofed to stop people from inside the box hearing people do their business.
But it wasn’t really the spiritual experience I was looking for.