If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
... you’ll be a Man, my son!
The ball disappears over long-on for six, Elliott roars, the South Africans sink to their knees, the tears begin to roll, for one the jinx is broken, for the other the pain continues. Elliott walks up to Steyn & offers a hand to a man sunk in defeat - the sweetest balm to soothe the hurting wound. Grown up men break down in tears, surrounded by the dark clouds of defeat, but for the Kiwi, rays of sunshine & the warmth of victory - one last battle awaits at the MCG.
Who cares by how many wickets or runs the game was won or lost? Does it really matter? Not on days like this one - such is the romance of cricket played by these two sides today.