A local heartthrob has become the people's champ of South Australia. The state of fine wines and fine sportspeople has had some soul searching to do lately. The Crows were pummelled in the big dance a few weeks ago, and the Power was out in the AFL and in people's homes just prior to that. It needed a titan to raise the spirits. Enter, Josh Dunstan. He's only gone and clubbed 303 in 33 overs, and moosed 40 greasy maximums in the process. I can't imagine the utter embarrassment and paralysing fear the part time off spinner felt, as he was handed the rock by the skipper (on a synthetic pitch) in blind hope that change would bring about the wicket. His meagre, half volley stock ball would've disappeared into the local primary school a few times I reckon.
Dunstan is everything we aim to be. A man who looks like he brews his own 17% premium ale, cooks the Yukon spuds dripping in goose fat, and could mop an opening quick to all parts of the ground using only a Puma Millichamp and a trusty eye. His piss is now being bottled by vineyards across the Barossa, and appearing on shelves from the bustling streets of Delhi to the rolling hills of Lancashire. Give us a half filled glass, and we will toast this living dynamo as the future king of country cricket. Fair dinkum, if that drip Kim Jong ever lobs a nuke in our direction from fine leg, I want JD standing under it to pound it back into the Pacific without fuss.