…Well, its about more than just wickets, stumps, balls, and the odd streaker, you know….
He rubs the shiny red ball against his inner thigh as he takes up position. The crowd is tense, the sun hot and dazzling, but nothing deters the bowler as he begins his short, brutal run up to the crease, his eyes steely with determination, his pace almost leisurely as he swings his arm, snapping his wrist taut at the last moment and sending the ball (his symbolic scrotum) hurtling towards the opposing team’s wicket (their symbolic vagina).
The defending batsman swings a phallic-shaped bat with all his considerable might, but alas, he misses by less than an inch, the ball ricochets off the ground, shoots under his defenses, penetrates the wickets, and successfully impregnates one of a pair of symbolic wombs.
And all this on live TV.
This is cricket, a game that might, at first glance, appear to have nothing at all to do with sex, but don’t be fooled, take careful note of the batsman’s posture as he prepares for the ball to be bowled, observe the way he nestles the handle of the bat into his crotch, as though grasping the base of a prodigious erection. The bat is clearly a metaphor for the penis and so, in essence, the batsman can be seen as placing his very manhood on the line in order to protect the virgin wickets behind him.
If the fielding team fails to catch the ball after it has been successfully batted then their “seed” is wasted, (tantamount to masturbation), and the batsman and his co-defender will then proceed to race between the two intact vaginas in an attempt to score the maximum number of bonus points.
If, on the other hand, a fielder, wicket keeper, or bowler, manages to catch the “scrotum” in mid-flight then the seed is still “in play”, the virgin has been ceremonially deflowered, and the failed batsman is sent off the field in disgrace.
Cricket, like soccer, basketball, golf, pool, baseball, and even hockey, is simply an ancient fertility rite dressed up in modern clothing. We are witnessing a battle royal between the male in his role as violator (the lover) and the male in his role as protector (the father or kinsman), with the penetration of the female genitalia, represented by wicket, pocket, goal, or basket, as the ultimate prize.
Or maybe that’s just me and my deep-rooted suspicion of men who play with their balls.