Sometimes it is the power of the player's breath as he strides confidently into the dressing room that is the giveaway. The paint peels under the chemical spray he exhales as he utters his cheery welcome to his colleagues. This bright front rarely lasts long and half an hour later he is quietly slumped in the corner with his head in his hands.
Other players shamble into the ground and to no one's surprise confess that they did not manage to get to bed. They will then say cheerily that they didn't manage to together for tea but had improvised. It is shotrly after that they discover that lower league cricketers are not gastronomically as bold as they might be and will shun the Weetabix and mayonnaise sandwiches. In his early career there were occasions when FB was that player when that last drink on the Friday night really did for him. But no more. FB's pre-match preparations are legendary for their abstention from anything that could undermine his performance on the next day.
|Heightening desire but inhibiting performance|
There was nothing to do but to suggest to the young man that he went home for a lie down and a replacement was successfully foraged for.
|Fueled by Haribo or something|
The hair of the dog worked for Sobers. Might the Haribo of the dog worked for FB's 11 year old star?