It was painful to watch the Proteas slump to yet another defeat. After cussing AB for what must rate as one of the silliest ways to get out, I wondered if perhaps a visit to the sangoma by upper echelons of South African cricket had yielded some undesired effects. Dressing room muti gone wrong?

Like everyone else in the squad I’m loving every minute of the tournament. My role as a batsman is less clearly defined then some others but I fully understand the reasons why. Most batsmen like to know exactly what their job is and to keep their ‘spot’ in the line-up, but that’s only in an ideal world.

If we have made a great start and have wickets in hand with just five or six overs then it makes sense for Albie or Mark to go in ahead of me to hit boundaries. It doesn’t mean to say that I can’t hit fours and sixes, but they are capable of clearing the ropes even more often.

I used to be one of those strange, ever-increasingly rare human beings who can sit and watch an entire five-day cricket test match, start to finish. I love cricket. Cosy on the couch at home, drink in one hand and popcorn in the other, it makes for great late evening viewing.

And then came Pro 20 cricket. My days of resting in front of the telly absorbing the intricacies and subtle nuances of the game were over. Now every time the captains toss a coin into the air before a 20 over match it signals an impending assault on my senses.