Hanging my head in shame
It is just that Brendon McCullum should acquire the captaincy of the New Zealand cricket team. McCullum exemplifies the values and aesthetics of 21st century cricket: he's loudmouthed, self-promoting, money-conscious, flamboyant at the wicket, capable of passages of spectacular batsmanship, and utterly incapable of the gritty, sometimes dour, characterful play for which his distinguished twentieth century preedecessors in the New Zealand team were famous.
Ouch. It was me. Sorry, Brendon. Your triple century at the Basin Reserve was as dourly determined as any epic innings by Turner or Wright. In a curiously Freudian analysis of McCullum's series-winning knock, Abishek Purohit argues that the famously aggressive batsman has 'triumphed over' his 'essence'. Just as Freud argued, in that famously dour little book Civilisation and its Discontents, that repression was essential to the construction of large-scale societies, so Purohit suggests that McCullum has had to restrain his cricketing id to build a large innings:
[Posted by Scott Hamilton]