Day 14. Chennai. England lose again - wait - they win!!

5.25pm update.

Wow, what a win! The perfect end to my trip. 

I just did not see that coming. When the Saffers were 124 for 3, England looked so flat. Kevin Pietersen's four overthrows; Michael Yardy bowling crap; there was no life in the field at all.

Now they're in the dressing room opposite celebrating.

No-one can complain that England have been boring this tournament. I'm heading home tomorrow a happy man.

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1pm.

It had been a bit of a faff getting into the ground. Not a massive one, but still enough to ensure I’d missed the first few balls of the innings. There had been a roar, but with Indian crowds you never quite know what that means. I looked at the scoredboard. Oh dear, 3-1. England had lost a wicket already.

I looked at the action. Petersen to Pietersen.

One black South African was about to bowl to a white South African who left his homeland for England because he, the rich white man, felt that odds were stacked against him.

Petersen bowled, Pietersen edged to slip, out! England 3-2.

South Africa, with their representative team of blacks, whites and Asians, were living up to their billing as tournament favourites. They’re a seriously good team and I can’t see a weak link.

I’m feeling a little narky today. Partly because drunken South Africans rocked up drunk at my hotel last night at four in the morning and woke me, and probably the rest of Chennai, up. I couldn’t get back to sleep.

But my shackles were raised much earlier in the evening. I was chatting to a South African lad in the bar last night. He was alright, until he went into one about how the quota system had ruined South African cricket. He saw no irony at all when he complained about white players “being wronged”.

Despite the quota policy being rescinded in 2007, he argued it was still unofficially going on now.

I asked him which of Hashim Amla or JP Duminy, two of the tournament’s most dangerous players, were in the team because of their colour? He didn’t answer.

I could have asked him whether Imran Tahir, their leading wicket taker in the tournament, was in the team to keep up the quota. In fact, I might well have done.

I tried to be reasonable. I wish I’d had my computer with me, because I would have made him read this article by the excellent Telford Vice (whose name sounds like a low budget West Midlands police show.)

As for white players being wronged, the talent pool can’t have been that big if Boeta Dippenaar played 38 tests. If anything, the continued presence of mediocre players like him during the Saffer team in the 90s, (players who are now clogging up the English county game as Kolpaks), suggests that as a white man, your face was much more likely to fit than if you were a ‘man of colour’.

I take no happiness from watching England be hammered by the Saffers – as it appears we are at the moment – but when Petersen ripped the heart out of the England line-up with a spell of three for four, I hoped it made that lad last night think.

And if this team go on to win the cup, as they should, I hope the important role played by the quota system is recognised.

Michael Yardy. What’s the point?

There must be a unofficial quota system in the England team ensuring the presence of at least one man who can neither bat, bowl nor field.

Is Yardy really a better option than Adil Rashid?

Two lads in front of me are holding hands.

This is without doubt one of my favourite things about India, but admittedly one I’ve seen far less often this trip. On previous trips, I’ve even seen Policemen holding hands. It’s so sweet.

As India grows up and its customs become diluted by western influences, I hope holding hands continues.