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I hurriedly opened my laptop. Hit the key to bring up the page I use frequently. I can feel the buzz of anticipation before the inevitable fall. Always keep you buzzing. The hypnotic circle on the screen continued to spin. The hunch begins. Off the ball, snick, gone… off the ball, snick, gone… off the ball, snick… Then the screen lights up. A guilty pleasure, with his guard, James Michael Vince.
It feels indecent to watch James Vince Bat. It goes directly to the senses. It is tempting to see someone hit cricket so crisp and sweet. It feels so good, it doesn’t feel right.
The beauty of a technically perfect cricket shot allows the body to react. It trembles through your nerves. Make the hair stand up. The fusion of muscle memory and pure instinct led to the perfect timing of the limbs, which caused a physical reaction among all witnesses. It’s like the morning coffee that seems to stimulate the whole body.
Many of James Vince’s shots arouse these feelings. You can feel the crispness of every shot. The vibration of the bat hitting the sweet spot is reflected in the body’s response. That physiological response, followed by a moan in the throat erupting from the stomach socket; the release of the butterfly. All these make the audience immersed in a kind of light similar to after sex. Satisfaction guaranteed.
However, pragmatists will always come back. We feel uncomfortable with indulgence, as if we are unworthy. They say too many good things. Embracing and watching the sensations evoked by James Vince, we feel uncomfortable. Isn’t it true that the British admit that feelings exist? Realizing the sexiness of Vince’s stroke makes people feel a bit French.
At the elite level, the important thing is victory, not enjoyment. No fun here.
Back to that old question. Aesthetics and results. Therefore, the two are rarely combined to achieve the maximum effect.
Another England team without James Vince is not surprising. It is generally believed that he will never return with Ed Smith, but even without him, the key decision makers remain the same.
Vince is now 30 years old. He is technically at his peak, but his testing career may be gone forever. The mind can handle it, but the heart cannot. Once again to witness it on the grandest stage, what will we pay? No need to watch granular streaming media footage, but lie down and bathe in Ultra HD. Sensory pleasure.
This is not to say that Vince’s non-selection is wrong. There are always shiny new toys to play with. Ollie Pope, Dan Lawrence and James Bracey are the latest. There will always be more.
These new toys have won a place with their own advantages, and they are exciting in themselves. But there must be a small part of us all yearning for the possibilities James Vince can bring. How can he make us feel.
Those of us who have felt it will never forget it. We can never completely let go. “The nervous follower of the fragile beauty of batting” is Jon Hotten’s way of describing Vinceaphiles. It’s really fragile.
We have been here with Gower and Ramprakash before. Under attack at this moment, the result is the most important and only meaning, but will inevitably disappear over time, and their beautiful legend will only grow. In the end, the heart desires to see them again; how slutty we are.
Currently, we are closely related to every domestic performance of James Vince. Good performance immediately becomes a reason for international tolerance, rather than being appreciated by itself.
At the moment, when the ball hits the screw, nothing else matters. This is pure happiness. When you can simply live in that moment, why let your mind wander. Enjoy being able to feel. Isn’t this exactly what we are looking for in the end? We can feel something that reassures us. Something that can help us feel. A feeling that we can return.
It is a pleasure to watch Vince when you know what is about to happen. But to see it in real time, when it is unexpected, it is purely a stimulus. A beautiful player is often mistaken for arrogance. Every player is fired, and you can also look good in doing so.
The out-of-context result loses its meaning, but the fascinating pleasure of watching James Vince hit the ball will never disappear.
Dave Wendrum
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