‘A book is like a garden carried in the pocket.’ – Chinese proverb

I don’t win many prizes.

Cracking this gold Pocket ‘trophy’, though, is a thrill because it goes to the heart of one of my great joys: reading.

Pocket, for those unlucky enough not to know, is an app service for managing a reading list of articles from the Internet. That description hardly does it justice. What Pocket does is aggregate all the amazing stuff on the web that appeals to me to store and then read when I’m on the go.

The links are stored in a single place and when I’m ready I dip in and out. It’s functional and clever and quite easily my best, most-used app – and I have a couple. I can access it at any time from my phone or iPad, which I do, constantly.

To say I read a lot is an understatement. I’m voracious. I steal moments everywhere, in lifts, when my car is parked, in queues, during TV watching and in the dead time in meetings.

I read plenty, but I’m staggered (and pleased) to be ranked among the top one percent of Pocket readers. The service has 17 million users. At a guess I reckon I average around 15 000 to 20 000 words per day, although plane trips would account for far more, like my favoured #longreads.

Pocket offers many add-on features, but I tend to read my pieces and instantly archive them. The favourites get tagged, but my material piles up so quickly, I seldom go back for a second look.

I’m not sure I could get through a day without Pocket. Reading is an addiction and Pocket enables my addiction, thankfully.

Local cricket hasn’t known many weeks like the last one.

Gulam Bodi was drummed out of the game for 20 years with almost indecent haste for his involvement in match-fixing. The former bit-part Protea made it easy by copping to his sins, although we surely haven’t heard the last of this imbroglio. He’ll be singing like a canary.

Bodi was fortunate. The news washed over quickly, coming as it did amid a Test match brimful with heroes and heroics. No-one wants to talk about match-fixing or even consider the possibility that some local games were infected by shenanigans. We endured that during the Hansie Cronje years. The Bodi news was promptly shoved to the shadows.

The counter-balance was provided in stark relief by a 20-year-old who played with conviction and authority, immediately thrusting himself into the South African consciousness.

Kagiso Rabada’s timing could not have been better. Race and race-baiting have swirled around South Africa in recent weeks. We needed a good-news story and Rabada emphatically delivered us one.

This country craves black heroes and Rabada thus earned his status on the back of world-class bowling that saw him snatch 13 wickets in a single Test, the best-ever figures by a South African against England. Cricket continues to fight for attention in the townships and Rabada’s majesty would have gone a long way to drawing in more converts.

Whether or not he is a product of transformation is immaterial: he underpinned the truth that what demands his selection is pure talent, not quotas. He was comfortably the best bowler in the series – 22 wickets at 21 runs each – and confirmed himself as a player who will get faster, better, more accurate – and scarier.

He pitched fuller than anyone and was remarkably consistent with his line. It’s true that South Africa lost the series against England, but Rabada’s sensational form offered rich compensation for the loss through injury of Dale Steyn, who spearheaded the attack for years. Given his workload through the years, no-one should have been surprised.

Rabada went on to carry the attack and did so with confidence, but it’s a dangerous game to play with someone so young. Rabada’s gorging on England created mass hysteria, but happily he was the calmest of the lot, remarking that he wanted to be rated on his form over 15 years rather than a match or two so early in his career.

He may be baby-faced, but the comment suggests a young man of poise and strong self-awareness, qualities that will serve him well in a game of cut and thrust like cricket. Indeed, he rated his dismissal of Ben Stokes at Centurion as the best of the lot. He never explained why, but perhaps it was the warm feeling that surged through him on account of Stokes shouting “you’re absolutely shit” to Temba Bavuma in Cape Town.

Had Rabada been schooled on the hard streets rather than St Stithians, he might have offered Stokes a similarly withering comment after picking up his wicket. He didn’t, of course.

With Steyn’s body now seriously creaking, the pressure will be ratcheted up on Rabada to step up as the chief strike bowler. This would be a mistake. He enjoyed an outstanding series, but he would be the first to admit that his bowling needs work. He has an easy natural rhythm and good attacking instinct, but must become more nuanced and learn when and how to vary his bowling. This is true of every young bowler, for the best are those who mix pace with cunning, variation with aggression; qualities that develop through the years.

Rabada will also be more prone to injury at such a young age. Given how he has become such a talisman, losing him at this stage would be a tragedy. Just think back to Mfuneko Ngam, another bowler of immense talent. He looked like a world-beater even in his teens, but played just three Test matches and retired soon after on account of stress fractures.

Even now, 15 years later, his retirement stands as one of the tragedies of SA cricket.

Rabada is a rare and special treasure. We must protect and nurture him. That way, we’ll enjoy him for years. – © Sunday Tribune