Ding Dong the Hilditch is dead
Andrew Hilditch will go down in history as some guy who did some things.
Good for him.
Perhaps in ten years with then gaping puss ridden wounds of Australian cricket have healed, people will look back and say, "hey, that Hilditch was fun, why can't we have fun people like that now".
Of all the chairman of selectors I've grown up with, he was the one most likely to be found in a back alley in Adelaide, naked, stabbed, pissed on and generally defiled by some spinner who was done over.
Perhaps that will be Hilditch's lasting legacy, showing us that via picking people who are just not ready for test cricket, and then fucking them over, you can send a Beau or Nathan into a spiraling shitfall of despair.
He's less a selector and more a social activist, showing us what can go wrong with society through elaborate 5 year pranks.
It's only fair to Hilditch that you pause to remember the good times.
Are you finished, good.
The entire mess that Australian Cricket finds itself in wasn't Hilditch's fault, no man has given his employers more reasons to fire him than Hilditch.
You could argue that Steve Smith playing as a number six was Hilditch's attempt at Cricket Australia assisted seppuku. It was the loudest and saddest cry for help, tear and urine stained Hilditch publicly wept, and no one did a thing.
Waugh and Border are not known as sympathetic men, but rather than cover up for Hilditch's many, many errors, they have done the kindly thing and gently pushed him out.
Sure it would have been more fun if Border broke into his house at 2AM and beat him to death with a Duncan Fearnely, but sadly those days of Australian cricket are over.
Hilditch's demise is a weird moment for me; I spent so much time pointing out his various farcical selections and statements, that I almost feel sadness on his departure.
In many ways, Hilditch was my muse, he was one of the reasons I wanted to blog in the first place, and sometimes I felt as if he was saying things just for me.
It's a personal relationship between asshole provocateur and the dude that pisses him off. I mean, without Hilditch, where would I be, who would I be, what world would we live in.
Hilditch has changed me, he made me become the bitter sarcastic shell of a man I'm proud to be. Without him I'd still be all those things, but he amped them up, and gave justification for feeling that way. I can never thank him enough for that.
As for me changing him, I'd like to think that hasn't happened. I think of Hilditch as pure form of Hilditch, unaffected by any outside elements.
For better, and mostly worse, the world needs a Hilditch, even if Australian cricket never did.
Buy my version of the argus review, it's funner.
[image error]
