A three-day finish to this contest seemed inevitabvle when the indefatigable Rabada trapped Lyon in front early. Yet Starc’s stubborn defiance was by no means over. And Hazelwood, as last man in, does have form as a partner. He recently shared a tenth wicket stand of 116 with Green. The two giant quicks dug in, erected flags and bunting around their wickets and dared South Africa to dislodge them. The score mounted steadily and the bowlers gritted their teeth. Another fifty partnership was raised. Starc’s own fifty followed some time after. It took Markram’s offspin to break the last defences, right on the stroke of lunch. Hazelwood’s expansive backfoot drive smelt somewhat of batting hubris.

Nevertheless it had been a brilliant comback by the Australian tail. At 7/74 the game was all but over. Yet meek surrender is not Australia’s habit. Make them fight, seemed to be the idea. Starc’s unbeaten 58 occupied well over three hours. As he limbered up to bowl one sensed that the man would leave nothing out there. Rickelton edged his away-swinger to Carey. And after a promising start Mulder failed to keep his drive down and Labuschagne pouched the chance. At 2/70 the crisis was approaching. It came when Bavuma edged to Smith, standing at close-in slip. No only did the ball burst through his fingers, it smashed his little finger in several places. Smith left in anguish, and the last chance had passed.

Thereafter Markram and Bavuma calmly picked off the runs. By stumps Markram had reached his century. Bavuma had acquired a hamstring injury; but the diminutive captain disdained the very idea of retiring hurt. The pair were masters of the wilting attack, and the very idea of letting Australia bowl to a new batsman was scorned. The sober truth is that by Day Three the pitch had flattened out into a highway. The defiant stand of Australia’s last pair had already foreshadowed this.

South Africa have a long history of fumbling the silverware at the last moment. Markram and Bavuma were having none of that. The last rites will be performed tomorrow. Captain Pat will be hoping for a miracle; but even his genius would be stretched beyond the realms of the possible. Seventy-odd needed with eight wickets in hand? Surely not!

Looking at the scorecard one might be forgiven for suspecting that the pitch was a green mamba. Not only was it devoid of any colour save harvest yellow; there was not a serpent to be seen this side of Cricklewood. Already by the second morning conditions had eased. There was no swing to speak of, and less seam movement than before. Bavuma decreed that after the formation stoicism of the first evening  they would look for runs today. And they did just that. Bats which yesterday seemed to be groping in the twilight seemed to find the ball more easily. Australia bowled accurately and well, but the score mounted steadily to 94 and relative comfort.

And then there was Cummins. He held one back the merest smidgin; Bavuma lofted the ball somewhat in the region of cover, and the hyperactive Labuschagne hauled it in, appearing from nowhere like the Demon King in a pantomime. Bedingham meanwhile had been the model of studious patience. Verreyne joined him and saw the Proteas safely to lunch at 5/121.

We do not know what was on the lunch menu. It may have been brimstone sandwiches, because Cummins thereafter ascended Olympian heights. At 126 Verreyne was trapped on the crease leg before. Jansen came and went in the flicker of an eyelid, caught and bowled. And Bedingham edged behind to Carey. Suddenly Cummins had five for nothing much. And this on a wicket with only a modicum of seam movement.

How is it done? If bowlers knew the answer to that they would all be enjoying their cricket a good deal more. But this much can be said. Not only does he possess metronomic accuracy and the ability to gouge sideways motion out of a glass runway; he also has minute variations of his release point. Bedingham played the correct line for earlier in the over. But the wicket ball was delivered a little closer to the umpire. The difference would be measured in inches. Yet it made the difference between a defensive block and a fine edge.

While Captain Pat was wreaking havoc at his end, the support staff gave little away save for one wayward over from Webster. Realising that the skipper was on a roll they merely tightened the screws and let him have his head. Maharaj was sufficiently panicked at the idea of Rabada facing the bowling that he attempted a second run more in the realms of fancy than fact, and was beaten home by Head’s sharp throw to Carey. Cummins finished the innings by working Rabada over and having him brilliantly caught in the deep by Webster. The last five wickets fell for twelve runs. Cummins finished with 6/28 and his 300th Test scalp. It was a prodigious performance by a master bowler on a surface which at best might be termed vaguely helpful.

With a goodly lead Labuschagne started brightly. Jansen did not trouble the openers unduly. Rabada however seemed determined to outdo Cummins. His spell before tea was another fast bowling masterclass. In an eerie repeat loop of the first innings he removed Khawaja and Green within three balls, and Australia went to tea on rocky ground. After the break Labuschagne drove lazily at a Jansen half-volley and edged behind. And Smith? There he was, batting in his own serene little bubble of self-absorption. Until, to the entire’s crowd’s stupefied astonishment, Ngidi trapped him in front. Not content with that, he did the same thing to Webster. To crown all, Mulder bowled Head with a superb breakback.

Just allow that to settle in for a moment. The backup seam attack, which had been a broken reed on Day 1, was slicing remorselessly through Australia’s middle order. Ngidi and Mulder were men transformed. It was as if they had beheld Cummins’ genius and told themselves I want some of that. Cummins missed a swipe at Ngidi and was bowled off his pads. At 7/73 the end was nigh. Or so it seemed. Carey and Starc had other ideas. They defended stoutly and took every run on offer. Carey was given out leg before and appealed successfully. And the score mounted. The hundred came up, then the fifty partnership. By the time Carey was finally out to the persevering Rabada the lead had exceeded 200.

It seemed the gods had turned their heads away from Bavuma. Three times Carey edged just in front of Markram at second slip. They advanced to the point where Starc edged to Jansen at suicide gully and the catch went down. At stumps Australia survives: 8/144 with a lead of 218. Carey’s 43 occupied just 50 balls, and brought his side back from the crypt. Tomorrow will see the endgame with the match evenly poised.

Temba Bavuma won the toss, took a long, slow look at the straw-coloured pitch, gazed up at the heavens, and decided to insert Australia. It made sense. The wicket appeared docile. But there: this is Lords. The Slope – spelling doom and defeat to many a neophyte batsman – lurks as an ever-present threat. As does the Dukes ball and an enticing atmosphere of lowering cloud. Bob Massie once took sixteen wickets here bowling swing. Glenn McGrath famously took eight ludicrously cheap English wickets here. Seven days out of ten, you bowl. And he did.

In the matter of trash-talking the opposition, many would suggest the sage counsel of soccer warlord Brian Clough: ‘Say nowt. Win t’game. Then talk your head off.’ Kagiso Rabada spurned this wise advice and talked his head off beforehand. If you take this course you would be well-advised to let your deeds match your words. And didn’t he just. He and Marco Jansen bowled a combined spell which overwhelmed the Australian top order. Little blame attaches. Khawaja, Green and Labuschagne were swept away by hostile pace, late swing and venomous seam movement. None threw their hands away. They were caught behind from obligatory defensive shots. And just before lunch, the crowning catastrophe occurred when Head was dismissed to a leg-side strangle – ever the most misfortunate of demises. At 4/67, the famed luncheon of sticky date pudding would have been as ashes in their mouths.

And then there was Steven Smith. Smudger is, as previously related, a man reborn in these latter times. He no longer goes back and across. Now he waddles sideways on the crease outside the off-stump and waves his bat at the ball. Apparently there is method in it. Frankly it is not for us to question his methods. Hours of patient planning have gone into this. And every time he bats these days it is as if he is playing on a different pitch to everyone else. It is not the most bizarre of techniques in Test history. Shivnarine Chanderpaul made almost twelve thousand Test runs by assuming a position like a fiddler crab attempting to find his front door with his house key after a long night on the sauce. He was the despair of bowlers. And so is Smith.

He batted, and batted, seemingly untroubled. He reached 66 before Bavuma belatedly realised that, counter-intuitively, the biggest threat to Smith was not Maharaj’s left-arm orthodox, but rather Markram’s off-spin. Last ball of Markram’s opening over Smith advanced, edged the away-drifter to slip, and the Inspector Gadget giant arms of Jansen hauled it in at the third attempt. He had made an effortless 66, but his team needed a big hundred from him.

And then there was Webster. After lunch Rabada’s second spell had him bound and gagged. Had the bowler advanced and offered him a gimp mask nobody would have been surprised. Yet somehow he clung on. Beau Webster is a cricketer of substance. Yes, he seemed to say. You had me beaten flat.  Nevertheless I’m still here, and now I am going to cash in. He was helped by some innocuous seam bowling from Mulder and Ngidi. The latter was once a lethal fast bowler. But he has lost a yard or two, and hereabouts this makes all the difference. England is no place for fast-medium trundlers, and he was punished horribly. The score mounted merrily, and at tea Australia had reached 5/190.

After the break Rabada and Jansen swept away the tail. Webster top-scored with 72, but the rest could do little. Rabada’s five wickets were no less than his due from a superb display of fast bowling. He may have a big mouth, but with pace, late swing and biting seam movement he lived up to his own estimation of himself. And Jansen – frequently wayward as might be expected of a man from the Land of Giants – was scarcely less impressive. At 212 all out South Africa could feel well-pleased with their work.

If batting seemed hard for Australia, the Proteas soon discovered just how arduous things could be. In Starc’s opening over he lured Markram into a somewhat false stroke. The ball swung in late and disturbed the woodwork. He marched off disconsolate, knowing that many a man before him has succumbed in similar fashion, either bowled or leg before. Somewhat surprisingly, Wiaan Mulder came in first drop, and the Australian seam trio worked him over. They bowled a fuller English length; the ball seamed and swung alarmingly; and he clung to the crease like a limpet. Rickelton meanwhile struck a few boundaries before chasing Starc’s away-swinger and edging to Khawaja.

Mulder and Bavuma defended desperately: strokeless and obdurate. But Cummins’ late movement rattled through Mulder’s defences; and Stubbs – only too aware of Hazelwood’s genius for wicked leg-cutters – played around the off-cutter which cannoned into his stumps. By the close South Africa was 4/43, and suddenly Australia’s two-hundred-odd looks a long way off. The captain Bavuma is unbeaten on three, from 37 deliveries. He and his fellows had been waiting for loose balls. From these blokes? Forget it. There weren’t any to speak of. What Bavuma must have thought to see Bedingham help himself to two late boundaries from Cummins can only be conjectured.

What the morrow will bring is anyone’s guess. If the ball stops moving about the Proteas have a chance for a first innings lead. If it doesn’t – well. They are up against it. But this was a thrilling contest between the two best teams in Test cricket. Both sides produced brilliant seam bowling, superb catching, and resolute defence against the odds. The difference thus far has been the backup seam attack. Ngidi leaked runs like a rusty colander, and after a promising opening spell Mulder’s lack of venom was pitilessly exposed. The Australian trio gave nothing away until the very close of play. More tomorrow.

Queensland (and Labuschagne) stared at the pitch in disfavour as play began. By now it resembled straw-coloured sandpaper. The pace had gone out of it, and there was little promise of spin. But if the seamers pitched the ball up and allowed it to swing and seam, who knew what might happen? Which they promptly did. Vidler and Neser bowled sharply with the new ball, and with the advent of Steketee’s steep bounce at first change, in no time at all the home side was 3/28 and staring at defeat. Hunt, McInerney and McSweeney did little wrong. When you are caught low down in the slips from a delivery at which you had to offer a vertical bat; or fend at an exploding leg-cutter on off-stump; then you may well trudge back to the pavilion knowing you did all the right things. Not that this is much comfort.

It ought to have been four down when Steketee induced another edge from Sangha. The ball was heading straight for Khawaja at slip; but McDermott threw out a hand to it and muffed it. The only blame derives from the fact, evident in hindsight, that the two slippers were standing a yard too close. Thereafter Sangha and Carey set to work with a will. The ball grew old; the bowlers’ immaculate line and length frayed, and the game slipped slowly into the sunset for the Bulls. Steketee was a constant menace, and Neser contrived some late reverse swing; but the two Redbacks were not having any of that and pushed remorselessly on towards victory.

It must be said of Swepson that he bowled acceptably. Neither better nor worse than that. After the first twenty overs Labuschagne’s best option was to pin his faith in the leg-spinner and persevere with him. Sometimes he drew sharp turn out of the rough; but not often enough to bring results. The right-handed Sangha clubbed him for a six over square leg; but thereafter took few liberties. Carey, faced with a capable leggie bowling into his stumps from around the wicket, launched a savage counterattack. Two lofted drives tantalised the mid-on fielders, but their hands clutched at the air in vain. Wildermuth could do nothing with his mediums, and the target shrank almost to zero.

A curious feature of the match has been the many who have reached a century and got out. With forty needed Carey lost his stumps to a Steketee full-toss. Lehmann lost his to Swepson, who grabbed a too long belated wicket. Vidler removed Scott for a duck, and with ten still required Queensland dared hope for a moment. But the ebullient Manenti extinguished their chances with a few brisk strokes and the game was won. Sangha’s unbeaten 126 was the difference. That, and Queensland’s first innings collapse. They were always several parasangs off the pace thereafter.

Plaudits are due to the Redbacks, and their coach Ryan Harris. Seam bowling has never been their strength, pace a Gillespie or two; but Harris enjoyed a brief flowering as a Test paceman pitching full and allowing the ball to swing and seam. He has taught his padawan apprentices well.

What was required, with the pitch at its most docile and biddable, was for the visitors to achieve a combination of limpet and Fast & Furious. Eventually both were achieved, but not until Doggett had prised out both McDermott and Peirson by keeping it simple, bowling a full length and swinging the old ball back into to the pads. At five down for not very much South Australia may have though that the contest was all but concluded. If they did, they were mistaken. Neser clung to the crease for over an hour; but batted himself to a standstill. As so often happens after an ascetic vigil of tortuous defence he flailed at a wide one from McAndrew and the end seemed nigh.

All through the day Jack Clayton had defended like Horatius at the bridge, but remembering always to take whatever runs might be achieved without risk. His century was well-merited, despite a near-death experience when Manenti’s clutching fingers at slip just failed to grasp him, with the ball only the width of his moustache above the turf. Yet on exactly a hundred he missed a straight one from Manenti and was trapped in front. He had however acquired Jack Wildermuth as a partner. This bloke has rare talent for a number eight, and he smote his way to a century of his own. Most of the way he was scoring at a run a ball; though with little risk. The Queensland innings closed on the stroke of evening for 445, with the persevering Doggett claiming five hard-earned wickets to pair with his six far less arduous first-innings scalps.

Tomorrow will see the endgame. Queensland have batted their way back into the game, and the home side must not falter. The target of 270 is achievable, certainly. But they will need to concentrate, and blend the grim defiance of Clayton with the exuberance of Wildermuth. More as it comes to hand.

Weather, pitch and (of course) the ball had all noticeably quietened down as the home side resumed. Yet there was still swing, and a little seam movement, had any of the bowlers chosen to avail themselves of it. Inexplicably, the Bulls continued to pitch short; especially Vidler, whose youthful enthusiasm from the previous day shadowed off into a pointless expense of testosterone. And all this to Lehmann, who despite possessing more height, and far more hair, than his illustrious father does bat in the same way, preferring to rock back and blast the ball through the off-side. He looked every inch a Test batsman: rarely in trouble, and fluently striking the ball wherever he pleased. Manenti likewise was delighted not to have his front-foot deficiencies exposed, and stroked his way to a belligerent 47 before succumbing to a short ball from Swepson.

The leg-spinner was used sparingly, and delivered up a curious mixed salad of long-hops and wide balls. He was heavily punished (7/0/42/1), though to do him credit he did trap McAndrew plumb in front. The umpiring finger remained in abeyance however, for inscrutable reasons. Otherwise McAndrew lived up to his billing as a better than average no.9 and made a brisk 39. Finally Wildermuth conceived the novel idea of pitching the ball up, and two more wickets fell immediately. Lehmann was last out for a superb 102, giving the home side a solid lead of 176.

When the visitors batted again the Redback seamers mostly bowled a fuller length. It did mean that runs flowed freely; but they created far more opportunities. Khawaja played back to a fullish ball and edged Doggett behind for 21. Lovell was trapped leg before by Scott for a patient 38, and Doggett removed Labuschagne for an excellent 61. Marnus was fortunate earlier when caught in the outfield; but the bowler had overstepped by the breadth of an eyelash. Manenti bowled three late overs, and evidence of turn was uncovered. Much will depend on McDermott, although considerable credit is due to Jack Clayton, whose unobtrusive unbeaten 32 has shown a deal of promise. But with three men down, and a lead of a solitary run, Queensland have the job in front of them tomorrow.

The Pura Milk Cup having been dismissed with richly-deserved contumely, the domestic competition decider reverted some time ago to the traditional Sheffield Shield. Many have called into question the need for such a thing. Certainly the clarion calls to abolish the final and have the domestic competition as first-past-the-post have been strident of late. No less strident has been formation blether from past fossils who apparently still command some form of public megaphone. And look: we’re only going to say this once. Will you idiots lay off Usman, once and for all? The last thing our veteran Test opener needed on the brink of the Shield final was blithering nonsense about his injuries. Yes, we’ve actually noticed that Usman is a bit different. Yes, he’s a devout Muslim. We understand that this is a bit confronting for some folks. We urge them to contain their personal traumas and lay off. Is this too much to ask?

As it happened, it was the last thing Usman needed. In case you hadn’t noticed, Joe, he’s actually playing Shield cricket for his adopted home. He’s not footling around the IPL. He’s here, doing his thing for Queensland. He did not prosper today. Would he have, had over-mighty past players not poked unwanted oars into his personal  life? We will never know. Truth to tell, batting at Karen Rolton Oval today was far from easy. Nathan McSweeney took one look at the straw-tinged wicket, the humid atmosphere, the shiny red ball, and inserted the Bulls. Why would you not? Batting was going to be a chancy business, and the probability was that Queensland would fluff their lines. Which they did.

Nathan McAndrew must have wondered if he had stepped on a pavement crack and incurred some mysterious curse. His twelve overs with the new ball produced figures of 2/22; but it could have been so much more. He had Khawaja dropped twice as the ball swung around like a police helicopter above a public demonstration. One delivery to Labuschagne cannoned into the stumps and failed to disturb the bails. He and Jordan Buckingham might as well have been bowling the Holy Hand-Grenade of Antioch for all that the Bulls could decipher. In the twinkling of an eye they had descended to 5/22. The stalwart veteran Michael Neser launched a lifeboat, top-scoring with 34; but Brendan Doggett swept them away, taking 6/31 as the Bulls were dismissed for 95.

With the final all but lost, teenage tearaway Callum Vidler dragged the visitors back into the match with an exuberant spell of fast bowling. Hunt and McSweeney endured 34 scoreless deliveries between them as the ball continued to hoop around, and both departed for tortuous ducks. Sangha came and went to Neser. Conor McInerny kept the home side humming along by judicious wafts until he fell to Wildermuth. Vidler then prised out two more scalps and the match was back in the balance (In Trutina for Carmina Burana fans) at 6/112. Jake Lehmann meanwhile kept his head where his Test-playing team-mates had lost theirs.

But the archetype of Aussie country cricketer was waiting at No.8. Ben Manenti is built like the proverbial brick outhouse: bowlers’ droop moustache and all. His finger-spin will be needed later. But he showed the others how it should be done. The ball was losing its fiendish menace, and those who play straight and hit hard may well prosper. He and Lehmann have already put on 46 – 36 of them to the belligerent spinner –  and at 6/158 the Redbacks hold a pronounced advantage, with the pugnacious McAndrew still to come in. If conditions continue to favour seam bowling then the lead is already substantial. If (as might be expected) the pitch flattens out into a road, then the fourth innings might see conditions at their best for batting. Either way, South Australians may well look forward to their first triumph this century. Queensland has a great deal to do.

Kusal Mendis faced an awfully difficult conundrum as he set forth for the centre wicket. Kumara would Do His Best at the other end, but singles would have to be found towards the end of each over. Loose balls must be put away, but twos weren’t going to be easy with four men patrolling the legside boundary. As it happened Lyon made one lift spitefully into his bat. Thence it wafted to Smith at slip for his two hundredth, and likely simplest Test catch. Lyon thought he had the final wicket as well when the ever-alert Webster snaffled a low catch at second slip; but on review it turned out the catch was a half-volley. No blame attaches. Fielders don’t always know.

Lyon’s frustration was compounded with yet another Umpire’s Call decision on leg-before. Adrian Holdstock refused him three times this innings. Lyon kept his temper, but birthday cards are probably out of the question for Mr H. Finally Smith handed the ball to Webster, who tossed up a looping off-break at which Kumara swiped horribly and missed. As the ball flobbed into the stumps Beau may well have thought that this off-spin caper is pretty straightforward, is it not? Or he may not. Lyon gave Kusal no chance to get down to him, fizzing the ball through in the mid-90s. It was the correct strategy and it paid off. But to rank tailenders a bit of air is jolly useful. Sometimes they swipe, and miss.

Chasing 75 to win, Australia made short work of it. When Peiris defeated Head three times in a row with extravagant off-breaks the moustachioed marvel whacked the next one to the boundary. Head went for a run-a-ball twenty-odd again, caught behind off the persevering Jayasuriya, but he had his team well on the way. Khawaja and Labuschagne finished the game: the latter looking in his best form for quite some time. Karunaratne was given the last over, as a farewell to Test matches. Heaven only knows when these teams will play each other again. Such matters are in the all-powerful hands of the ICC. Or possibly the BCCI. But this was a fine series. Australia won because when their batsmen really got in, they stayed in and made centuries. The home side didn’t.

Henceforth there is something called The Champions’ Trophy, whatever that means. It appears to be a sort of Clayton’s World Cup, but without the minnows. Australia will be there, but minus some players who need a rest. We would like win it, of course; but we won’t grieve unduly if we don’t.

Galle, Day 3

De Silva took the new ball immediately, and ignoring his sole seamer handed it to Peiris and Jayasuriya. Immediately batting looked a great deal harder, like the ball itself, which turned somersaults and played hide-and-seek with the bewildered batsmen. First Smith fell to Jayasuriya, edging behind to Kusal. Not that Smith did anything wrong. If you play for the spin hereabouts, the straight one will make a fool of you. The ball pitched on off-stump, requiring a stroke, and took a thin outside edge. Then poor Inglis, who had watched the partnership of 259 from the dressing room, survived just two deliveries. Trapped in front, he was saved by a thin edge. The next ball skidded on and took the stumps via an inside edge. You had to feel for the man. Perchance his injured back needs more rest anyway.

Thereafter it became a grim struggle, with both bowlers well on top. Eventually Carey, who had struggled this morning, went for his trademark sweep and for once missed it. Jayasuriya had his third for the morning and fourth for the match. Webster was joined by the debutant Connolly with the visitors suddenly 6/376 and well short of where they wanted to be. Carey (156) and Smith (131) had made it appear yesterday that they were batting on a different pitch, on a distant but friendly planet. Connolly’s first delivery from Peiris was everyone’s worst batting nightmare. It drifted in to him, leapt off the pitch like an over-excited Jack Russell and just missed the outside edge.

His fifth delivery from Jayasuriya he swept in the air to deep backward square. Unfortunately the fieldsman was a long way in from the fence and watched it sail over his head. Encouraged by this good fortune he essayed a wild slog against Peiris and sliced it to backward point. Audacity looks good when it comes off. This misadventure did not show the young man to best advantage, to say no more. Meanwhile Webster leaned on his bat at the other end and wished for someone to stay with him. He had by this point made a useful 19, using his enormous reach to smother the spin. His heart must have spun into overdrive when Starc edged his second ball straight to short leg. Nissanka clutched at it like a drowning man reaching for a lifebelt, and muffed it.

De Silva then burnt Sri Lanka’s last review on a hopelessly optimistic shout, and next ball Webster was struck on the pad again and given out. He reviewed immediately and was duly reprieved. It must be said of Joel Wilson that he has not had a good match in the white jacket. To be fair to the man, umpiring is jolly difficult when the ball is turning this much. The tail did their best, but were undone by prodigious spin: none more so than Webster, whose excellent 31 was cut short by a gigantic off-break from Ramesh Mendis which was aimed at silly point and hit the leg stump. The innings ended at 414 on the stroke of lunch, with the home side 157 behind and up against a dark and forbidding wall.

At first all went well for the visitors. Kuhnemann and Lyon reduced Sri Lanka to 3/39, including the vital wicket of Chandimal. Yet Angelo Mathews, who had been largely a spectator in the series, now took a hand. He is a super-veteran now, with over 8000 Test runs to his credit. I will make these Aussies sweat, he vowed, and did. There were useful stands with Kamindu and de Silva, but it took the arrival of the redoubtable Kusal to find somebody to stick with him. The pair put on 70 until Webster used his Inspector Gadget arms to haul in a lofted sweep. Mathews walked off, although he might have stood his ground and asked for a review; since Webster’s overenthusiastic chuck-away had been performed in mid-roll. Steve Waugh memorably did it. Mathews scorned to do any such thing. His 76 had been an innings of class, well worthy of his exalted repute.

Thereafter the tail began to crumble. Lyon and Kuhnemann did most of the bowling, and shared seven wickets between them. Webster’s off-breaks disposed of Ramesh in his opening over. Is there nothing the man cannot do? His first Test wicket came from bowling medium-fast. His second came from a looping off-spinner which bounced – it helps if you’re the height of Goliath of Gath – and Ramesh spooned it meekly to Head. Kuhnemann spun one past Jayasuriya, and by stumps the home side is eight wickets down and a mere 54 ahead. And yet. Kusal is still batting, on 48, to add to his unbeaten 85 in the first innings. He has two men left to partner him, neither with any batting pedigree. You would find few takers for a home victory at odds of less than 50 to 1. But it had been a fine day’s cricket from Sri Lanka. They began the day pretty much nowhere and clawed their way back into the match, if only by the merest thread.

Day 2: Galle

All eyes were on the pitch when play began. It still looked the same as yesterday, resembling a patchwork quilt of baked mud. Would the fun and games begin? If so, when? Starc was not called upon, as Smith opted for Lyon and Kuhnemann. But the day began well for the home side. Kusal Mendis farmed the strike expertly while Lahiru Kumara defended with the most somnolent of bats. When there was something to hit, Mendis hit it. The score mounted past 250. Mendis turned down a great many singles; but his eventual decision to offer his doughty partner three balls an over shipwrecked as Kuhnemann took the edge of the fast bowler’s bat, and Webster did the rest at second slip. Still, 257 didn’t seem a bad score under the circumstances. Kusal’s unbeaten 85 was an innings of the highest quality. He could have done with more help from his team-mates.

Head began by joyfully hopping into Kumara, whose opening two overs cost 17. But Peiris, whose off-breaks had gone unrewarded in the last game, took the edge of Head’s bat after the latter had run down the pitch as if attempting to catch the last train home. Caught at slip for a run-a-ball 21 was less than the visitors had hoped for. Then Labuschagne found himself trapped on the back foot by Jayasuriya’s arm-ball. The umpire gave it not out, but de Silva’s review was upheld. At 2/37 the ground was shifting beneath the visitors’ feet. Khawaja and Smith steadied the innings until Peiris trapped Khawaja in front; and at 3/91 there was still plenty of work to do. But the tropical sun is a fickle beast. Carey was sent in next, since Inglis had a strained fetlock of some description; and also because the Australian keeper is a left-hander. And that was all she wrote for the perspiring attack. By stumps both men were well past a hundred, and at 3/330 Australia is back in the familiar position of dominating the match.

How on earth was this possible? Anyone offering odds on an unbeaten stand of 239 would have struggled to find takers at 50/1. Some deliveries took off like mortar shells. Unplayable spinners appeared and disappeared like Black Dog in Treasure Island. And yet Smith and Carey brushed aside the occasional stick of dynamite lobbed their way and batted all the rest of the day without, it would seem, a care in the world. The sun’s shining; we’re having fun doing our favourite thing; why on earth should we be worried? Smith cover-drove, he glanced, he even reverse-swept. When he was given out to Peiris he at once reviewed, and the third umpire decided in his favour. It is his fourth century in his last five games. The time his career looked over now seems to belong to a different slice of history in the Trousers Of Time.

Carey? He swept more often than Jo the Crossing Sweeper from Bleak House. At times he drove as well; but mostly he swept. It is his favourite stroke, after all. And Sri Lanka could not contain him. Arguably they bowled too slowly: around 5 ks per hour slower than Lyon and Kuhnemann. On a docile wicket you need to make the ball bite and spin; and you should aim where possible not to give the batsman time to advance down the pitch and club you into oblivion. Carey’s unbeaten 139 has come at close to a run a ball. Half of it came in boundaries. The remainder came from his constant rotation of the strike with his gleeful skipper. Sri Lanka are not out of the game yet. But they are facing an all too familiar abyss. Two more sessions of batting from Australia and it will doubtless be another heavy defeat. Dimuth Karunaratne deserves better in his hundredth and final Test. Perchance his team-mates may yet rise to the occasion.