You know when you have that dream that you are the most Awesomest thing alive.
Either you are a rockstar with men throwing their boxer shorts on stage, a boxer with old white Jewish writers saying you are better than Ali or some politician that fixes the world and also fights off evil aliens.
Everyone has the dream where they are cool.
Well channel that, are you there yet, are you awesome in your imagination.
Good.
Now think of Dilshan’s batting of late.
Be honest, is your imaginary character as cool as he is.
No, ofcourse not.
How could it be?
Dilshan is some sort of Steve McQueen/Angela Davis/Bruce Lee/Ned Kelly hybrid at the moment.
Cooler than Ice, Harder than Nails, tastier than a quick burger.
He is like some sort of souped-up super-pimp crime-fighting freedom-fighting bastard straight from hell.
And now he has a beard, how can your imagination beat this?
The dilscoop starfish thing.
The wearing a hat while batting.
The open chest surrounded by bling.
And everything else that he brings to the game of cricket.
All he needs is a Rolls Royce made of Gold, an ivory walking stick and cricket would have to crown him the grand poobah of batting.
What happened?
Not that long ago he was a middle order struggler who never really did enough and had a pretty ordinary record.
Now he is the dog’s bollocks, the cat’s pyjamas, the moose’s caboose.
On one level I want to know how this struggling dude made it to the top of the mountain.
But on the other hand, fuck it.
Let us just enjoy this gift of awesomeness that has surely been delivered by our God of Sehwagology.
Amen, Dilshan, Amen.
