To read Kevin Pietersen's book KP: The Autobiography
is to be filled with sympathy. I never thought I would feel that way.
It had initially seemed that all the faults were on the one side, but
now I am filled with wondrously compassionate feelings about the England
and Wales Cricket Board and everyone connected with the England team.
That's the problem with (a) score-settling and (b) egomania. Both tend
to alienate sympathy. And oh! the sensitivity of the fundamentally
insensitive man. Pietersen could - and did - drive a mechanical flail
through the England team without being aware that anyone was
inconvenienced, but should he suffer the pricking of a pin he's awake
all night weeping.
This is a borderline unreadable book. Can't blame the ghost, David
Walsh: how could anyone make 315 pages of bleating into a convincing
narrative? Apparently they're all bastards. Infamy! Infamy! They've all
got it in for me!
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