Stevie Wonder was made to love her. Steppenwolf was born to be wild. The Black Caps are the best fielders in the world. No three-day debates needed, no committee meetings, they're the best. In fact, we're so ahead of the pack, people don't notice how good we are. It's a fact taken for granted.
Roger 'cream-catcher' Twose took a divine diving catch. It happened on the boundary, in front of the terraces, against India or South Africa in either early or late 1998, or early 1999. It was a one-handed wonder, to be exact, which inspired the then already-maniacal Eastern branch of Eden Park into a sea of frenzied limbs and deafening gleeful yelps.
I wasn't there, so I recalled an excited Ian Smith's televised remark: "You might not see a better catch this summer!" And, amazingly, Smithy was wrong. A mere two months later, Roger himself refined a more outstretched version of the first catch, but with his other hand, on the southwestern side of the same ground, again on the boundary, against South Africa or Australia. And he sprinted to get it. The people in the then-and-now dead block of boxes scarcely batted an eyelid. Why? Well, he was sublime as usual. So, why make a fuss?
Then a year or so later, Nathan 'alien-voice' Astle took an even better catch in Christchurch. And the people only cared for about two minutes.
Fast-forward 13 years and seeing Brendon McCullum today in the field is like seeing a bloody seal. There's nothing he can't do. Additionally, Marty Guptill can save almost any would-be boundary and Ross Taylor can take match-winning catches, every inning, in the slip cordon. Kane Williamson's no slouch either.