The batsman facing the ball does not merely represent his side. For that moment, to all intents and purposes, he is his side. This fundamental relation of The One and the Many, Individual and Social, Individual and Universal, leader and followers, representative and ranks, the part and the whole, is structurally imposed on the players of cricket. - CLR James, "What is Art?"
The end of 2015 had been an especially shitty summer for South Africans. December had started with President Jacob Zuma attempting a grab at the national treasury, resulting in the farce of three finance ministers in less than a week. The currency plummeted, billions were wiped off the stock exchange and people's savings tonked. For a country left dispirited and anxious by a political betrayal, cricket only confirmed a receding self-esteem.
The consequences of one of several kleptocratic moves by Zuma and his cronies were evident during the Basil D'Oliveira Trophy series against England. At the cricket grounds Poms, skins ripened pink by their escape from the English winter and the daily sun-drenched sessions of quaffing beer, gloated over the latter costing 20 pence a pint. Some middle-aged white Englishmen were sat, beaming and garrulous, next to muted young black women, marvelling at their "value for money" jaunt and the incomparable tenderness of last night's steaks.