Well, there seems to be a little bit of fuss about Allen Stanford “flirting” with some of the England WAGS. But why: surely the players understood that for $1 million a piece – potentially – the billionaire would expect his pound of flesh. In fact he seemed to have got several pounds of flesh when he bounced Matt Prior’s pregnant girlfriend up and down on his knee while wearing an inanely pubescent grin.
You don’t get anything for nothing these days, and it was obvious that Mr Stanford was just showing that he’s the Daddy when it comes to this particular roadshow. What’s the point of having all the money in the world, the power and wherewithal to force cricket boards to eat out of your hands, and building your own cricket ground on a paradisical island, if you can’t get a grope or two out of it?
Maybe he has so many things, he’s just no longer sure where ownership ends.
According to Cricinfo: “Stanford has apologised for on-camera flirting?” Does that mean there was some off-camera? And if he’s prepared to have a foursome on the team balcony, what might he get up to in the privacy of his own hospitality suite?
At least his intervention, which, according to reports, was flashed up on one of the big screens at the ground, injected some excitement into a tournament that has helped to whisk the chronic insomniacs among the cricket-watching fraternity into the land of nod quicker than a shipping container of Nytol.
The notion that Twenty20 is a batsman’s game has been done untold harm by the apparent inability of any batsman to hit the ball off the square. If this was the IPL, they’d be demanding their money back.
Never mind, it will be interesting over the next few evenings to see if any team can reach the 150-mark. For if this form of cricket does not have flowing boundaries and thundering sixes, what does it have?
Earlier this year, Stanford declared that Test cricket was boring; I think he should be looking closer to home. Either that, or sidling up to some of the fitter members of the Trini Posse.