Don't Care ... Don't Care ... Don't Care ...

Using what tiny portion of the mediasphere I have reserved, I need to have a little rant.

Today, Shane Warne announced his retirement from test cricket.

I DON'T CARE.

I'm sorry, but I just do not care. I couldn't give a damn. I really couldn't. I really, really don't see how this changes the world. Warne, for those who haven't seen the loving hagiographies taking up the first ten minutes of each major news bulletin, is a cricketer. Big deal. He is apparently a good one. Fair enough. But big deal.

What annoys me most is that Warne, by all appearances an arrogant and egotistical person, is, unlike the rest of the world, allowed to have behaviour that is at best very stupid and at worst, very hurtful, is dismissed - even lauded - as that of a `larrikin' and a `colourful figure'. Such `larrikin' behaviour in virtually any other member of society - a politician, say - would not be tolerated at all. I don't know too many women who would shrug after finding out their partner was running around remorselessly bedding other women and say `Don't worry, love. You're a colourful figure!'

Yes, I was one of those kids whose intellectual achievements were always dismissed at school because they didn't involve hitting a ball, throwing a ball, catching a ball, or kicking a ball. But it hardly seems just, does it? Which is better - running around a circuit very fast, or finding a cure for cancer? Clearly, it's the former ...