With World Cup fever sweeping the land, it is easy to forget that there is still cricket going on within these shores. And proper cricket, at that, with pressure and purpose, and a refreshing dose of perspective provided by the last domestic cup final of the season on Friday.
A South African finisher did the business in a knockout situation the other night.
In fact, he did it so spectacularly, that his side – even away from home – romped to a fairly comfortable win, despite having had the top-order collapse like a bad soufflé.
What Albie Morkel did on Friday for the Titans, as he helped them secure the Momentum One-Day Cup from under the noses of the luckless Cape Cobras, was evidence that you can teach an old dog new tricks.
Morkel, in making a first ever limited-overs century, was in new territory, sticking around at the crease long beyond the fleeting visits that he has become accustomed to; the cameos that have seen him defined as a modern-day slugger, and little more.
But in starting slowly and then building to the free-hitting he is best known for, he showed there is more to his game than just lusty lashes to the corner frequented by cows.
Of course, it helped that he had Dean Elgar at the other end, who seems to have found a new lease on life in Pretoria.
He, too, has shed the tag of “just a four-day player”, and his back-to-back hundreds in the play-off and then the final were just the tonic for those who are adamant that pyjama cricket has no place for proper batsmen.
There is, as they say, more than one way to skin a cat.
The Cobras, too, used a similar system to get to the final, with the explosive Richard Levi tempered by the obdurate Andrew Puttick.
Good cop, crazy cop, if you will.
But it works, just as it does for the Proteas at the highest level, where the serene Hashim Amla is the perfect foil for the free-spirited Quinton de Kock.
Cricketers the world over are obsessed with “advancing the game” and finding new ways to hurt bowlers.
We have the T20 hit and giggle to thank for that.
It’s given us ramps, and switch-hits, and Dil-scoops, and all manner of ways for batsmen to look rather dilly while rotating the strike.
And yet, in the World Cup, with proper pitches and big boundaries, the teams who last longest will be those who mainly fall back on the time-honoured practice of laying a foundation, keeping wickets in hand, and then going ballistic in the final furlong.
Morkel did that on Friday night.
How he must wish he had found the serenity he showed on Friday a few years ago, when the Proteas were searching desperately for an unfrazzled mind, to deal with the chaos of the frenetic, finishing overs.
In this country, we are still too quick to write off players, especially batsmen, and confine them to the international scrap heap. And yet, batsmen normally find their best touch in their latter years, when their game is better organised, and the testosterone of youth has worn off, replaced by a burning desire to cash in as often, and as heavily as possible.
World cricket is full of these belated bowler bullies, men who have found that life at the crease begins at 30.
And if the Proteas doubt that logic, they only have to look across the dressing-room at their latest consultant.
Mike Hussey’s international career kicked on after 30, but he did enough to retire as “Mr Cricket”.
And he earned that tag by just playing proper cricket.
As Morkel showed, and as the Proteas would do well to remember, they could do a lot worse than applying the basics.
Of course, that logic applies to most players, except the freak who captains them.