they said it was impossible

Fervent Patriots,

They said it was impossible, and so it was.
Before the whole shebang started, my bookie was offering 100/1 about Straya to win the series 4-0, and if you were fool enough to have a punt, yr eyes would have lit up like Xmas trees after Poona.
Yr money was already well gone before they were finally ambushed more than a month later in the 2nd innings at Dharamsala by a better bowling attack complete with a Mystery Chinaman [who must have quietly slipped across the border] on a dirt road with potholes of dusty dried mud in the shadows of the sunny Himalayas.
So, we lost the cricket...somewhere up in them there darn hills.
The impressive Border/Gavaskar Trophy, no less - lent to India for the interim.
Great parcels of old growth forest have been spent on newsprint about it, but in the end, it all came down to the Captains.
Said it before, say it again: The Viral Rat, V Kohli, is an absolute disgrace to himself who brings shame and dishonour down upon the game and the head of his nation in his ruthless disregard for anything that gets in his way.
As a Captain, he is probably among worst type seen in living memory; a snarling, nasty, ugly peice of rabid work.
HIs intolerable on-field arrogance is childlike [ever seen a spoilt five-year-old chuck a tanty? And that's not the half of it], and his final press conference was simply laughable.
Doesn't Kohli know that no-one gives a blue root as to whether he is friends with Australians anymore or not?
Has he got any friends?
Doesn't he realise that the General Public in the Wide Brown Land will never ever ever like him?
Needs his head read.
Not the sort of person you'd exactly want to spend a pleasant evening with in convivial company, you'd expect.
Excuse me, your Honour, but the nutjob is nothing more than dickwad, and that's the truth.
Kohli showed throughout every minute of the series a complete and utter disregard for Law 42[1]. "The responsibilty lies with the Captains to ensure that play is conducted within the spirit and traditions of the game, as well as within the Laws".
And the mad dog constantly and deliberately put the Umpires in an unacceptable, invidious, and impossible position under Law 42 [2] "The Umpires shall be the sole judges of fair and unfair play".
Having smashed the most important Law in cricket to smithereens, Kohli was more than willing to bend and break every other Law in the book, if he saw even a glint of the slightest advantage in it for him.
What is the difference between "sharp practice", which is an accepted part of the game, and "downright cheating", which is not?
Where do you draw a line in the sand?
The authorities were as weak as gnat's piss on that, with no fines or suspensions handed out after the spitefulness of Bangalore.
The powers that be seemed to let it get away from them in Ranchi; sledging is perfectly fine, it's OK, been part and parcel of the game since the dawn of time, but name-calling steps over the line for mine.
The fact that Kohli didn't play in Dharamsala is beside the point - he ran the team from the stands and personally curated the pitch that strangely turned into a dustbowl after picking the hitherto unknown Chinaman in his place to bugger things up nice and proper for the unsuspecting Strayans.
That is very very sneaky in anyone's language, but it is also legal, as the Laws are silent about foolin' around, getting some jiggery-pokery going and playing ducks and drakes with the pitch, before the start of play.
Remember seeing some footage once, a long time ago now, of groundsmen in the West Indies, somewhere, setting fire to the test pitch with jerry-cans of kerosene after someone forgot to cover the strip in a thunderstorm.
India has a very long history of doctoring pitches - they're world class at it, we know that - ever since they graduated from playing Test matches on hessian matting, and started picking batsmen but more particularly bowlers to suit the featherbeds, roads, irrigation channels, dirt tracks, six-lane highways, and right-angle turners from Day One, served up as wickets to play on.
So, how can you ever beat the Munchers at their own game at home?
They will trick and cheat you out of it every time.
What would MJ Clarke do?
If he was still skipper, he would have lost his shit, gone off his tits ballistic-style, and fisticuffs and attempted strangulations would have been a certainty.
But he was up in the television commentary box looking after a horse called Self Interest.
The rupee does the talkin' in that part of the world.
Pup would have issued orders for no quarter to be given, and no prisoners taken, but to Smiffy's great credit, he now knows when to call a fookin' cheat a farkin' cheat.
Knowingly claiming a fake fair catch when you think no one is looking is downright cheating, right there, and one of the worst offences against the spirit of the game there is, to boot.
What did the Umpires think about that?
Smiffy came to the first class game with the looks and reputation of a Baby Faced Killer, and as a batsman he's on the next planet and could be by far the best of his generation.
All class with the willow; in a world of his own.
Just like Pup was.
But Steve's mind sometimes wanders in the field, and he still has a thing or two learn about the fact that the game is all about conflict and the way it's resolved - he already knows well enough that the scoreboard never lies.
There is no need to publicy apologise for anything, Smiffy, let alone do it twice.
Never take a backward step.
The Stats Guru has been through the score sheets, and blames the bats fair and square.
if it wasn't for Smiffy's outstanding 499 runs on tour and his tremendous form as a slipper, Straya most likely would have gone home 0-4 by his calculations.
Even though Nice Garry and Keefey toiled manfully enough at crucial moments and went large with some good bags to keep Straya in the game, it was deadly when Starkers was sent home injured; that really was a pivotal point most of the commentariat missed.
Starc should be considered the "all-rounder" in this team, the way he gets his wickets and doesn't leak runs, and boy, does he know how to tonk 'em clean outta da park, if and when required.
Hazo and Cummo will tough it out to see who's first change on Strayan wickets.
The Marsh Experiment was clearly a spectacular, bright shining failure, at last, full stop.
To leave Uzzie The Token Muzzie on the bench for the entire tour when SE Marsh couldn't bat to save himself was a very serious tactical blunder by the selectors.
How many times does it have to be said - The Chairman and the Three Wise Men continue to bother themselves with the seemingly never-ending fruitless quest for an freaking "all rounder" as if it's some kind of Holy Grail.
The guernsey was given to MR Marsh who made a handful of runs and hardly bowled an over in two games, ahead of GJ Maxwell, who has trouble getting into the playing XI because he once complained that he should play above the wicketkeeper in the batting order.
The fact that Sir Burbs Warner could not even buy a run didn't help, but who can blame the two newbies in Reno and HandyComb who were dropped in the deep end of the cauldron to be boiled alive by savages?
They did well those two under the trying circumstances, and are batsmen who are about as orthodox as a Greek cross thown off the end of a jetty; they're good sized fish - keepers - and if they play their cards right, have glittering careers ahead of them.
It has the makings of a very good cricket team if only the selectors would just pick the best six bats, four bowlers and a wicky; forget the myths and remember that Straya really hasn't had a "genuine all-rounder" since Keith Miller, for gawd's sake.
No point in stewing in their juices or crying over spilt milk [it could have been scotch]; what happened in India, stays in India.
The boys will be mightily relieved to come home now [apart from those picking up a lazy crore or two in the IPL] and go straight to the bar, take the winter off, and then start thinking about their next Test match assignment...Thursday 23 November 2017 v the old foe Engerland, that's right, The Poms! The Ashes! at the 'Gabba, in Brisvegas.
Giddy Up.
5-nil.
Again!