Hallowed Hall

Whilst I am ranting about cricket, I want to mention Andrew Hall. Cricket fans will know who I am talking about. For those who don't, Hall plays for South Africa. He's a bowler and sometime batsman, although the former is definitely his strongest suit.

That said, he took part in one of the most heartrending events I have seen on a cricket field. South Africa had only one wicket left. Hall had scored 98 runs. Batting with him was Dewald Pretorius, a batsman so inept he only took a bat with him because he would look even sillier without it than he did with it. Hall stole another run. Up to 99, one run away from a first century in a Test match. But he needed Pretorius not to be out to the next ball. Which he was. What did Hall do? He laughed. The man had played for his team and had taken a run when a run was to be made, rather than decline it and face the next ball. He had trusted a team mate, even though he knew there was a huge risk that the team mate would let him down. And he still smiled.

Andrew Hall will never be a star player. Yes, he's a bloody good cricketer, you don't get to play for your country - any country - without being one of those. But he will never be a Flintoff, a Warne or even a Graeme Smith (thank God, we already have one too many of those). But he's a good team man who knows he is not the most talented in the side, but who tries to always do what is best for the side, even at the expense of personal glory. Give me eleven Andrew Halls rather than one Jacques Kallis every day.

A well known fact about Hall is that, before he became established as a Test player, he was twice the victim of robberies back home in South Africa. Although he was never seriously injured, he was shot in his bowling hand in one of them, which happened whilst he was withdrawing cash at a cashpoint. This kind of thing is why I regard South Africa less as a desirable holiday destination and more like half a million square miles of suicide note.