Every cricket-loving parent will know the feeling. Not a feeling, exactly, more a tiny flicker of hope. A ridiculous, irrational hope that the gods who once reached down and gently kissed the likes of Sachin Tendulkar and Ellyse Perry might one day do the same to your little sprog.
You hold your breath the first time you wrap their chubby hands around a plastic bat. You start dreaming absurd dreams when you softly lob a tennis ball in their direction and they accidentally smoke one into the couch.
