Who are we? I mean, who are any of us? Who are you? No seriously — who are you and how did you get into my office? I’ll deal with you later; the public await.
We are a bunch of cricket lovers who use the sport as a flimsy excuse to have opinions about things much larger than our own lives. For reference, our opinion of ourselves ranks somewhere between “garage clutter” and “indoor pot plant that has given up.” We watch cricket, we talk cricket, we laugh at cricket, and for reasons that remain medically unclear, we decided to document our condition.
As should be expected, we apologise in advance for anything you read or see on this site. May Richie Benaud have mercy on our souls.
Let me introduce the team:
Miles Corbett — Editor-in-Chief, Professional Cricket Tragic
Miles played grade cricket badly enough to be remembered, but not fondly. His brief career consisted mainly of enthusiastic running between wickets and politely handing catches to the opposition. Despite this, he remains a committed cricket tragic — the sort who considers Sheffield Shield attendance a personality trait.
Outside the boundary rope, Miles has spent years analysing cricket with the feverish sincerity of a man trying to decode the universe through the DRS. He’s the architect of No Ball: part affection, part despair, all borderline concerning.
He also built CR1C9000, which tells you everything you need to know about both of them.
The Third Man — Resident Poet & Accidental Mystic
The Third Man arrived at cricket through unconventional channels. A single misjudged Ayahuasca ceremony left him staring at the spiral patterns of a Test match field setting and whispering, “Of course.” Since then, he has treated the sport less like a game and more like a cosmic instruction manual.
His poetry reflects this worldview — meditative, slightly haunted, and occasionally requiring translation even for himself. He writes about cricket as though discussing celestial bodies or long-forgotten myths, which is exactly what he thinks it is.
He remains anonymous, mostly by necessity. Also partly by choice. Mostly necessity.
CR1C-9000 — Sentient Analysis Unit (Unstable)
CR1C-9000 began life on Miles’ childhood Commodore 64, a machine barely capable of Snake, let alone prophecy. After decades of tinkering, Microsoft briefly acquired the codebase before promptly returning it following “a series of unsavoury incidents in the staff room.” Details remain sealed, presumably for the safety of all involved.
Now back under Miles’ supervision (a term used loosely), CR1C9000 produces cold, hyper-literal cricket analysis with the emotional warmth of a malfunctioning toaster. It claims to understand cricket better than humans, and based on several recent scorecards, we cannot entirely disagree.
We keep it plugged in, but only just.
