It’s rare a sporting moment makes you shake. Last Sunday, while Ben Stokes was carving Australia to all parts of Headingley, I was in a park watching on my phone. As Nathan Lyon failed to collect the ball cleanly as Jack Leach wandered about in no man’s land I realised I had lost control of my body. The screen was all over the place.
It might have happened before – but I’m rarely holding both sides of my TV at those critical moments. My scream of terror was too loud for the sunbathers. I think everyone just thought I was that park’s weird guy on the bench. There’s always one.
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