Ask any cricket fan, from anywhere in the world, and they all will tell you: the sound of leather on willow is one of the most poetic sounds in sport. Be it in a packed Wanderers, or just watching high school cricket on a Saturday morning, there’s a certain beauty to the sound of bat on ball. If cricket’s heartbeat made a noise, that would be it.

So what do you do when that sound rings hollow?

I swore blind that after South Africa lost the series to the poms, I would pay no attention to the dead test. I’m just too competitive to take it seriously. My fears of it being a “5-day pommy gloat fest” were realized by the Barmy Army. Those drunkards who faithfully follow England to all corners of the world, desecrating fine cricketing venues with football flags.

But the nature of an addiction is that you act on your compulsion even when you don’t really want to. That’s why it’s called a compulsion.

So I did it. I broke the promise I made to myself, and to the seven faithful readers of this blog. I submerged myself in the 4th test bubble, with all the fake headaches, illegal streaming, perpetual Cricinfo, and general excitement of a 1st test.

I call it a bubble because that was the only way I could handle it. I really do get seriously pissed off when the Proteas lose, especially to England. But as one mate kept reminding me, “A test is a test”. So I created an emotional bubble around myself to tune out the context of the game.

I allowed myself to revel in a seemingly fine performance despite the Barmy Army doing their level best to remind me that no matter the final score here, we were very much second best.

So how does someone like me, who prefers to see things in black and white (life’s much simpler that way) process these seemingly contrasting emotions? Terrific performance on the one hand, overall losers on the other.

I felt like a fraud celebrating Cook’s debut and test ton, de Kock’s brutal batting, or KG’s 13 wickets like we’d won the series. Driving home on the 4th evening listening in the car, I let rip with a series of determined fist pumps as England’s collapse commenced, and immediately turned around to see if any other drivers had seen me being so foolish.

I heard many commentators and analysts say things like “builds momentum” and “bodes well for the future” and they are absolutely spot on. The future is indeed bright and there is much to look forward to. Despite what the English media are saying, this was no eulogy for SA cricket.

I’ve also written in the past about the peaks and troughs of sport, and how at times like this I like to day-dream about future victories. But still, that wasn’t enough. I needed to find a more visual mechanism to cling to as I start rebuilding my optimism.

And that image is a bridge.

A bridge to redemption. This win was us summoning the courage, and enduring the humiliation of the walk across with our heads held high. Similar to Queen Cercei’s walk of shame. If you know what that is, great. If not, I suggest you not Google it if you’re reading this at work.

In just over a year, we play the poms again. Four tests in England. I have that to look forward to. And for now I’m ready for the ‘one dayers’. A slightly new team, and technically a new competition. I have crossed the bridge. I only hope I’m not on a road to nowhere.

GPF