On the final day of the Ashes summer, England may be proud of the fact that they made the hosts fight it out. After Matthew Potts’ horrible time at the bowling crease he was determined to show something with the bat. He lasted 80 minutes at the crease for his unbeaten 18. As the runs mounted Australia refused to panic, waiting for the new ball and Mitchell Starc to finish off the innings. Which he did in fine style, finishing with 31 wickets for the series. He was truly the difference between the sides. Australia found themselves chasing 160, which was uncomfortably more than they had hoped for before Bethell’s wonderful innings. His 154 was of the highest calibre, and showed up the want of patience and technique of his more experienced colleagues.

Head and Wetherald put their best feet forward, savaging 18 of the runs in the opening two overs. The score mounted to 62 before things began to happen with terrifying speed. After a wayward beginning Josh Tongue troubled both openers, and sent them both back to over-optimistic swipes into the outfield. Smith emerged, full of intent, and raced to 12 in no time at all. But Will Jacks produced the finest ball of his life, bowling the hitherto unbowlable master with a drifting off-break that turned, if not square, at least far beyond Smith’s formidable defence. Usman came and went, to a guard of honour. The persevering Tongue caught him again parked on the crease with an angled bat, and he played on. Labuschagne meanwhile had decreed that Jacks was an ever-present danger and must be whacked out of the attack. After a 16-run over Stokes perforce took him off.

Then in an excess of zeal Labuschagne charged down the wicket for an improbable single. Carey sent him back, and despite a balletic dive for the crease was well short of his ground. At 5/121 England was still in the game. But Australia’s depth won the day, as Carey and Green knocked off the runs in quick time. The hosts’ belligerent attitude in the second innings was the right one. Chasing a small target you cannot afford to poke and prod, since an unplayable delivery might happen at any moment. England missed chances in the field. Khawaja edged Jacks between keeper and slip, and neither Smith nor Stokes got near it. Labuschagne whacked Tongue to gully, but Bethell could not hold onto the ball, which had, to be fair, travelled with the muzzle velocity of a cannon shot. Tongue was magnificent. But after 11 overs of fire and brimstone the man was spent, and his replacement Carse leaked runs. He is an energetic paceman who bowls a number of excellent deliveries. But he does not achieve the consistency required for a Test match fast bowler.

And Potts did not bowl at all. Nor did the injured Stokes. It would have been no comfort for Stokes to learn that Somerset paceman Jamie Overton had bowled the Adelaide Strikers to an unexpected victory earlier in the week. Injuries have decreed that the mercurial quick only plays T20 now. It is a sign of the times. England brought a pace battery to these shores, but down they went like tenpin bowls. By the end Stokes had run out of pace options. Wood, Archer, Atkinson and himself had all succumbed to injury. And Starc? He is pushing 36. Yet he kept on firing throughout the summer, and delivered a handsome 4-1 victory to his team. For Australia, Khawaja’s retirement means that Australia can play both Green and Webster if they feel like it. The latter must not be omitted again for the forseeable future. It is a rum affair for such a Dad’s Army team to triumph so spectacularly. Scott Boland is 36, and has been on the interchange bench most of his career. Yet he played all five Tests and took 20 wickets at an incredibly low average. He gave nothing away. Yet time is ticking on for most of this team. Fortunately, likely replacements are waiting in the wings next time England arrives on these fatal shores.

The morning began with Stokes breathing fire and pawing at the ground. Alas, like Bumrah before him, his weary body could last no longer, and off he limped with a strained fetlock. The man has carried his battered team on his shoulders all summer, and suddenly his Trojan might had failed him. Smith and Webster continued to add thoughtful runs. Smith had quietly shelved his bizarre choreography of yesterday, which had included back-somersaults, constant vocal commentary and shouted requests for less ice-cream in the stands. But the morning turned against the home side when Tongue resumed. He has been England’s best bowler, and he caused Smith to nick behind with a superb leg-cutter. He bowled Starc with another beauty; and Jacks removed Boland first ball, leaving Webster unbeaten on 71 and still without a Test century. He deserves one.

Starc made up for things by striking in his first over. Again. Crawley failed to offer a stroke to a venomous late inswinger and was trapped in front. Perhaps he is a slow learner. Every international batsman knows about Starc’s inswinger. He failed to read the memo. Thereafter Duckett and Bethell rode their luck and reached 80 by lunch. It was sensible batting under the circumstances. The pitch is playing tricks. Green smote Bethell on the helmet with one that exploded off a length. Duckett edged Neser straight to slip where the sure hands of Smith awaited receipt. Alas for him, Green’s giant arms flashed in front of him in a diving, acrobatic attempt which spilled the catch. It was that sort of morning.

After lunch Duckett’s luck finally ran out when he chopped on to Neser. Playing with a diagonal bat on an up-and-down wicket is bound to fail sooner or later. His 42 was his highest score of the series, in which he has averaged just 20-odd despite making a great many starts. It works on docile English wickets with shorter boundaries. Not here. The selectors probably ought to have known that. Root came and went, never looking comfortable for a moment. Bowlers lift at the mere sight of the man, and he clung to the crease for 37 deliveries before the indefatigable Boland trapped him in front. His sole boundary was edged through a vacant third slip from Starc, who merely gave a rueful grin. It is his way. No disaster seems to daunt his sunny temperament.

Meanwhile Jacob Bethell appeared to be batting on a different pitch entirely, as if he were on a sunny Edgbaston bread pudding wicket. Australia offered him a good deal of chaff, especially from Green; and he cashed in as if he had not a care in the world. By tea he was on 79, and the irrepressible Brook had raced to 24. Astonishingly, England was still well in the game, only nine runs in arrears with the home side having to bat last. How Australia missed the guile and cunning of Lyon! The suporting acts, after Starc, Boland and Neser, looked decidedly threadbare. The omission of Murphy looks more and more a mistake. There is spin available. If Bethel and Jacks could turn it (they did) how much more could a specialist spinner extract? And Shaoib Bashir must be a lonely and mournful figure in the English rooms. He will never know how things might have gone.

Enter the man from Snug. The giant Tasmanian all-rounder boasts many strings to his metaphorical bow. He is a capable top-order batsman, a brilliant fielder, and a serviceable medium-pacer. On a pitch crying out for quality spin bowling, at last Smith called upon Webster’s fourth-string. He did not disappoint. Brook, on 42, was trapped in front by a vicious off-break. For reasons best known to himself, Jacks hoicked his second delivery straight to Green at Bovine Corner. Worse was to follow. During a comical over of Labuschagne bouncers, Bethell set off for a run, froze after about a third of one, and attempted to return. Smith meanwhile had managed a run-and-a-half, and was caught well short doubling back by a deadly throw from Wetherald. The wounded Stokes then laid back to a shortish off-break from Webster and hit it straight to Smith at slip.

Smith then took his 215th Test match catch with a sharp take from Carse off Boland. He is one behind Root in the pantheon of catches other than from ‘keepers. The rest are nowhere. And yet through all these calamities Bethell batted on and on. And on. At stumps he is unbeaten on 142, with only Potts and Tongue to keep him company. Almost single-handed, he has kept England still marginally in the contest. It has been a magnificent innings from a youth inexplicably kept out of the side until the Ashes were gone. The lead is 119. Australia has stumbled before in Sydney seeking a lowish total in the fourth innings. Tomorrow will reveal the final stanza.

It may well be a Tuesday but it felt like a holiday, with another packed, pink-emsembled crowd, most of whom were looking forward to another century from Head. He did not disappoint. He was caution’s own son at first light, and quietly saw off a fine spell from Stokes and Tongue. After an hour or so the hapless Potts was recalled, and his first three deliveries were smacked to the boundary. Thereafter Stokes went for a 7-2 field, which helped contain the moustachioed opener. (Contain? You mean he kept on scoring at a run a ball!) And Neser? Ancient wisdom would have it that the nightwatchman should defend for the first twenty minutes, then hit out or get out. The embattled Queenslander knew better. The first hour would see renewed bite in the wicket, and his job was to take as much of the strike as he could. When offered full deliveries outside off, he swished and missed. But whenever the ball was aimed at the stumps he offered textbook defence.

All this was designed to frustrate England. It worked, too. The time to open out is later on. Worse was to follow. Carse was summoned, and a far-flung field set to catch a hooked bouncer. Head obliged; hit the ball straight to Jacks on the boundary … and he dropped it. Stokes’ downcast features were silent but eloquent. Head was dropped again at deep third man, and resolved thereafter merely to take singles when they were on offer. And this spurred Neser into belated action. He threw his bat at the ball and played some glorious strokes. Then England set a Bodyline field for him too, but he was not to be tempted. Finally it occurred to Carse to pitch up, and Neser obliged him by edging behind. Yet his 24 from 90 deliveries had been a priceless asset to his team. It meant Smith emerged at a quarter to twelve with the pitch notably quieter, and the ball very much older.

Smith was his usual skittish self. His hyperactivity may not have pleased Head, who prefers to walk singles where possible, but Smith made him hurry. The skipper was then dropped at leg-gully. In the final over before lunch Jacks dropped a sharp return catch from Head. It was not England’s morning. They persevered, and tried many different tactics. When Head pulled a ball from Potts into the second tier, despite the presence of three men patrolling the leg boundary, Stokes reverted to more usual methods. Yet nothing went right for him. An afternoon of toil awaited. And Head is on 162, at a run a ball. The prospect was enough to intimidate anyone.

As it happened, England opened with Jacob Bethell’s left-arm orthodox offerings. He caused Smith to loft a drive perilously close to the fielders. In his second over he trapped Head in front. Where was his spin earlier? To be brought on with the score approaching 300 is a trifle late in anyone’s book. Usman came out for his final match, with a good hour to play himself in before the new ball. He was his usual languid self, and managed a minor role in a fifty partnership with his captain. But he was trapped on the crease by Carse and departed. The latter then bowled full to Carey, who smoked three quick boundaries before falling to Carse’s leg-trap.

At six down and still behind Australia’s grip on the match had slackened. England were still well in the contest, since the pitch is playing up and down and you don’t want to be batting last if it gets any worse. Enter Green, from the Last Chance Saloon. He and Smith put on a brisk 71. But with the bowling at his mercy Green gave his hand away, holing out to Duckett in the deep. Webster’s job was to accompany his captain to his century, which he managed without mishap. It doesn’t seem like a home summer without a Smith century, and at the last gasp he achieved it with a leg-glance for three.

Beau Webster has waited a long and weary time for his chance. He has done nothing wrong, and pretty much everything right, in his brief Test career. He wasn’t going to waste his chance when it finally came. And Smith? The man was in his element. Pitch playing up and down? That’s fine. I’ll just get head, body, pads, bat, and kitchen sink behind the ball and let my battle computers do the rest. As the shades of evening began to fall England wilted. The pair put on 81 in brisk time without ever really exerting themselves. They resume tomorrow at 7/518, with Smith on 129 and Webster on 42. The chance will come tomorrow to drive the final nail into the English coffin. You would not bet against them doing just that. And Starc still waits in the wings.

When play resumed at the unaccustomedly early hour of ten, the pitch seemed to have gained a little extra something overnight. If you bowl on a decent length, there is seam movement. Boland removed Brook caught behind for a breezy 84. But there: Brook’s innings always have an air of evanescence, as if he could go out at any moment. Starc roused himself for Stokes and had the English captain caught behind off an away-seamer. Suddenly 5/229 did not look promising. Yet Root was his imperturbable self again. Once before in this series he has knuckled down and concentrated hard. When he does this, a century appears inevitable. And it was.

He put on 94 with Smith, who was fortunate indeed to be reprieved when Green overstepped. With the new ball imminent Australia reverted to some allsorts offerings. With the bowling at his mercy Smith made the curious decision to smack at Labuschagne’s bouncer and hit it straight to Boland in the deep. Smith batted throughout as though he had an urgent train to catch. Root did his best to calm his companion down, but in vain. Nonetheless six down with 323 on the board was better. And Jacks to come in at number eight.

Jacks dug in for a useful 27 while Root’s majestic innings rolled on. But Michael Neser became unstoppable with the new ball, making it jump about and seam. He removed Jacks quickly. Green had Carse caught behind for 1. With the innings collapsing around him Root hit a return catch to the grey-bearded Queenslander, and Tongue lost his stumps. Neser’s rejuvenation had cut England’s total to 384. Which to be frank looked about a hundred short of what was required. Root’s batting was beyond all reproach. The man had made 160 and was ninth out. But there was not enough from the supporting cast.

With nearly three hours after an early tea to go, Australia had the chance to make some serious inroads into the match. The pitch continued to offer seam movement all day, provided the bowlers kept to a good length. This they were utterly unable to do. Matthew Potts perchance deserves some sympathy. The man has been cooling his heels in the background all tour. He has played no cricket to speak of. And suddenly he is asked to open the bowling in Sydney at the very end of the tour. It is unsurprising that three overs of chaff were duly punished. His second spell was not much better. The man has a decent record in Test cricket. Today was an unreasonable ask.

Carse’s opening spell was little better. In no time at all Head and Wetherald had raised a fifty partnership, without the latter looking in any way likely to last the distance. Only when Stokes and Tongue replaced the wayward openers did the attack get underway properly. Stokes trapped Wetherald in front of the stumps. Given the South Australian’s idiosyncratic stance it looked inevitable. Labuschagne came out to bat with a refreshingly positive attitude. The man was looking for runs, and found them aplenty with England’s indiscriminate seam bowling. Alas for Marnus, he wafted outside off, yet again, and edged Stokes to Bethell. Both dismissals had an air of inevitability about them, and if they wish to keep their spots in the batting order something will have to be done.

And then there was Travis. He batted with circumspection, blocking all the good balls bowled at him. The chaff he despatched with maximum prejudice. There was a good deal of that, to the extent that the man is 91 not out at better than a run a ball. He has hit fifteen boundaries so far. He will resume tomorrow with the nightwatchman Neser, and look to build a substantial lead. 2/166 was an unexpectedly healthy return for a session of batting. It rather depends on whether the incoming batsmen treat the conditions with proper respect. While the pitch is full of runs, it is still offering enough to the seamers. One wonders what Webster will make of coming out to bat at number nine. We wish him all the best. He deserves a decent hit at some stage.

Green, one has mentioned before, is the colour of deceit. Having won the toss, Stokes took one look at the piebald pitch, alternately viridian and straw-coloured, refused to believe a word of it, and elected to bat. He was vindicated. This is a typical Sydney wicket: easy-paced, offering a little to the new ball, and settling down into a batting paradise. All that was needful was for their top order to restrain themslves, see off the new ball, and make hay. Restraint? As well expect Duckett to ride out to the centre wicket on a penny-farthing bicycle. Starc beat him repeatedly with late swing; he shrugged it off; whacked five quick boundaries and edged behind to Carey. 27 off 24 balls may well work in white ball cricket, but it was not what his team needed. Crawley got a beauty from Neser which seamed in and trapped him in front. And Bethel was worked over by Boland and edged behind.

At 3/53 England faced embarrassment. Again. Yet that was all she wrote for the home side. The two Yorkshiremen made light of proceedings thereafter. Root was his sublime self, and rarely looked troubled. Brook rode his luck, as usual. At one point he threw his hand away by slogging Starc into the middle distance; but the ball landed safely between three converging fielders. It was a terrible stroke; but perhaps he has earned a little good fortune. By tea England had reached 3/211. Thereafter thunderbolts and lightning, very very frightening threatened, without really inconveniencing the ground. The SCG was packed with fans, all waiting for the umpires to call a resumption. And yet they never moved, save to call off play for the day.

It was yet another needless demonstration of Test cricket’s genius for shooting itself in the foot. The home side were doubtless grateful. The twin Yorkies had exposed their threadbare attack. For reasons best known to themselves the selectors had omitted Murphy. Was Webster to be the spinner after all? Nope. His two overs were both seam-up. Is he in the team as a specialist number 8? It looks that way. If so this is timid in the extreme. To those who might have feared rough handling for the bespectacled off-spinner, consider the following fact. Green and Webster combined have figures of 10/0/68/0. One doubts that Murphy could have done worse. He is a competent spinner who asks awkward questions of the batsmen.

Tomorrow will see an early start. The pitch will flatten out still further. It is likely the home side will be chasing plenty. Maybe that is why they have packed the eleven with batsmen. All to often this does not pan out as hoped. Tomorrow is another day.

Despite the three-nil scoreline hitherto, the gap between the two teams has been a gulf rather than a chasm. The tourists are by no means as bad as some would have it; nor have the hosts been as good. Australia triumphed because they won all the big moments. Today they lost the match before lunch, when six wickets tumbled down and left the innings in ruins. The English seamers straightened up their bowling and attacked the stumps, and Australia had no answers. Wetherald was undone by his crouching stance yet again. The head  should be over the line of flight, not exchanging pleasantries with silly point. Labuschagne fell tickling outside off yet again. It was a fine leg-cutter which removed him; but his dismissals have become all too predictable. Yes, we feed him with cutters on fourth and fifth stump and sooner or later he’ll nick it.

The pitch had quickened up today, as expected. The sportive seam movement had not evaporated. Batting was hard work, and perilous; but not impossible. Head was dropped once from Tongue, but made an excellent 46, and was only undone by Carse’s best delivery of the entire series. When a man insists on batting outside leg stump, a prudent seamer will pitch on leg and aim to hit the top of off. This Carse did. Tongue ambushed Khawaja with one that jumped off a length. Usman hooked instinctively and the ball flew to fine leg. Then Carey, Australia’s saviour on so many occasions, nicked off to Brook from Carse. At lunch Australia was 6/98, with Smith and Green defending grimly. The match was almost gone.

The one question remaining was would anyone be able to stay with Smudger. Smith was his usual idiosyncratic self. This is one of his favourite grounds, and he laid out his customary ropes, flags, bunting and storm lanterns around his wicket. No, I am not going out. I see what you’re doing there and I shall adjust my stance to deal with it. Please? Could somebody stand with me? Alas, they could not. Green began promisingly until he chased a short, wide one from Stokes and hit it straight to Brook in the cordon. It was a dreadful stroke from an alleged top-order batsman. It would not surprise to see him replaced by Webster in Sydney. Neser was unfortunate enough to spoon a leading edge back to Carse, who sent down a seaming thunderbolt to remove Starc. Richardson straight-drove a classical boundary. Then hubris overtook him and he skied a catch straight up in the air.

Smith was left stranded, unbeaten on 24. Should he have farmed the strike? Or was he right in assuming that every possible run should be taken? We will never know. But Australia’s second innings was a shambles. Too many men gave their hands away. And England? Perhaps today we saw what might have been, had England shown the needful humility in preparing properly for this series. Brydon Carse suddenly looked like a Test opening bowler. Stokes and Tongue were a constant menace. Atkinson only bowled five overs owing to a niggling fetlock, but he wasn’t needed. The other three swept aside the much-vaunted hosts in less than 35 overs.

With the pitch slowly settling down, the target of 175 looked very achievable. And for once Crawley and Duckett’s hey-go-mad habits at the batting crease looked judicious and praiseworthy. They swung like a pair of rusty gates in a hurricane, and in no time at all they raised their fifty partnership. In seven overs. Duckett’s leading edge fell short of Starc’s grasping fingers by the merest smidgen. Starc’s leg-before review for Crawley was a similar distance off. It was not to be Australia’s day. Finally Starc unleashed his perfect away-swinger and cleaned up Duckett’s stumps. But the damage had been done. Neser was treated with disdain, and was mercilessly pillaged.

For reasons inscrutable by normal folk Carse was sent out at number 3. The experiment was brief. He swung like a blacksmith; Smith pushed the field out, and a skied waft from Richardson fell safely into the hands of deep third man. Now came the crucial innings from Jacob Bethell. He is England’s young project player, better-known for his white ball exploits. Yet he has class, timing, and an excellent eye. At once he set about the attack. Finally Boland was brought on, and brought some sanity to the game. He really ought to have opened with Starc, but Neser’s first innings inroads earned him first dibs on the new ball. When Boland trapped Crawley in front, at 3/112 there was still the faintest spectral chance for the hosts. Yet Bethell snuffed it out with some sensible hitting. By the time he attempted his first village green stroke (a back-foot loft from Boland into the covers, where Khawaja pouched it) he had made a quick 40 and all but secured victory.

Australia were not done yet. Root was trapped on the crease by Richardson, and Starc dismissed Stokes – yet again – from an airy waft to the keeper. It is not the hosts’ way to concede anything at any time. But Brook and Smith finished the match. England won by four wickets. But Australia lost it by their want of attention and technique before lunch. An unexpected rest now impends before the final chapter in Sydney. Both sides ought to make changes. For the long-suffering Barmy Army this was a moment to savour.

Having won the toss, Stokes took one look at the grassy, rubbery surface and had not the slightest hesitation in inserting Australia, who were soon in diabolical trouble. Carse was his usual prodigal self, but Atkinson was tight and threatening, and induced one of Head’s kryptonite shots, cutting far too close to his body and edging onto his wicket. And Josh Tongue was devastating. It is an enduring mystery as to why he was not picked in the first two Tests. He pitched the ball up and moved it around, especially back into the right-handers. He picked up Wetherald with a leg-side strangle, Labuschagne fiddling outside off, and Smith with an absolute beauty which seamed in off a very full length and took his stumps. Khawaja had been picked to bat at number five, but he might as well be opening. He and Carey fought it out until lunch, taken at 4/72.

Things did not get much better after lunch. Atkinson caught Khawaja on the crease with an away-cutter and Smith took a simple catch. Then Stokes induced a loose waft from Carey which went straight to Crawley at leg slip. 6/91 was not what anyone had expected. Worse might have followed when Neser on zero edged behind to Smith, but the ball had bounced just in front of his gloves. Feeling that they may as well have a bit of a go, Green and Neser hit a flurry of boundaries and at drinks 6/120 looked marginally better. After all, Australia could comfort themselves with the reflection that the luxurious grass cover would mean the ball won’t stop seaming around any time soon. Nevertheless more runs were an absolute necessity.

The second stanza of the afternoon session was an adrenaline-charged extravagance. Neser continued to attack the ball. In an excess of zeal for the fray he managed to run out the misfortunate Green. Carse picked up Starc from an agricultural hoick to mid-off, during which England had a slice of luck when nobody appeared to notice that the bowler had overstepped. Tongue blasted away the remainder, finishing with an only slightly flattering analysis of 5/42. Yes, there was seam movement. But this was no green mamba, and it didn’t look a 150 pitch. When your Number eight top-scores it is a generally a sign that something has gone wrong. Yet Australia’s plan was clear. Thrash for a bit and get England in as soon as possible. An early tea meant they would have nearly three hours at the visitors. Enough for a few wickets, at least, perchance?

Certainly England’s top order looked their usual evanescent selves. After eight overs from a fire-breathing Starc and Neser England was 4/16. The less said about the hapless Duckett’s attempted leg glance from Starc the better. Jacob Bethel got a ripping away-cutter from Neser which was taken behind. Crawley edged behind to Smith from Starc, and Root wafted at Neser and edged to Carey. Thereupon Brook decreed that his customary hell-for-leather was indeed the right way forward. Perhaps it was. He batted as if there really was no tomorrow, scything his way to 41 from 34 before he missed Boland’s off-cutter and was trapped leg before.

Had he played more circumspectly would he have missed it anyway? Perhaps he would have. Jamie Smith  was then undone by another off-cutter. Smith leaves a gap between bat and pad. It wasn’t a gaping chasm. More like a narrow vertical letter-box. But Boland found his way through it. Of course he did. Jacks looked all at sea, but was unfortunate enough to receive yet another giant off-cutter from Boland which also stood up off a length and took his inside edge. Neser returned to the bowling crease and trapped Stokes on the crease. He edged it half-heartedly to Smith in the slips. As at Brisbane, Neser was used as a medium-fast spinner with Carey standing up to the stumps. The deadly effect of having a first-rate keeper prepared to stand up to 130 k deliveries cannot be overstated. The Englishmen love to wander out of the crease and whack the ball thither and yon. But with Carey standing up to the wicket such extravagances cannot be allowed. Thereafter the innings subsided into chaos, though not before Atkinson had flung the bat to good effect. He is a whole-hearted cricketer and should be among the first picked. It took the advent of Green to the crease to pick him up. Incredibly, England had been bowled out in thirty overs.

The day ended with the triumphant Boland playing nightwatchman for the final over of the day. Normally this cannot be justified; but with only one over to play his job was to ensure that Head did not face a ball. Nor did he. The last ball careered off his outside edge for four. It was truly a madcap day. Almost a hundred thousand spectators got their money’s worth. Fours and sixes in plenty, and twenty wickets. Only 76 overs or so were bowled. But there would not have been too many complaints. Another two-day Test match? You would not bet against it. Although the pitch will be faster tomorrow. Will it seam less? Maybe, or maybe not.

Matters came to something of a crisis on several occasions today. A rain delay, leg-before decisions overturned or failing to happen, a dropped slips catch from Green – of all people! – an unfortunate injury to Lyon, some resolute batting from the English lower order: all of these caused spectators to grip their umbrellas rather tighter than had been anticipated. Yet at no point did Australia falter. The pitch remained true. Head reminded everyone that he is not and possibly never will be a Test quality spinner. Cummins could not break through. Yet the imperturbable Starc came roaring back with the new ball and broke the last defences. It was fitting that Boland took the final wicket. Without him Australia might have been beaten. His 18 overs for 1/35 may not sound much, but England’s tail was in full cry, looking to score at every opportunity. Yet the resolute Boland allowed no liberties.

The Ashes are done, in just eleven days. Yet England have learned from their errors of judgement. Their final score of 352 owed itself to resolute, sensible batting. Traditional virtues, like getting your eye in first and playing within your means, suddenly made batting look easier. Yet they failed in the mammoth task because nobody went on to make the big hundred that might have conjured a miracle. Jamie Smith made 60 before a wild stroke at Starc brought about his undoing. Jacks’ 47 was cut short by another brilliant Labuschagne special in the slips. He at least was not to blame. What Archer was thinking when he wafted Starc to catching third man can only be conjectured. And Brydon Carse was left unbeaten on 39. He has form with the bat, although his 14 wickets thus far have flattered him.

Both sides have much to ponder for Melbourne. For the tourists, Bethel should get his chance at number 3. Something must be done about both Pope and Duckett, although it is hard to find a replacement opener in the squad. Bashir must come in. This business of part-timers bowling long, prodigal spells cost England the match this time. For Australia, Green has underachieved all series, and might lose his place to Webster. Presumably Kuhnemann will replace Lyon, who was last seen hobbling around on crutches. And Smith will return, presumably in place of Inglis, who twice fluffed his lines. On to Boxing Day. There is still pride to play for. We wish England all the luck in the world. They will need some.

Australia began the day as they had left off overnight. Head proceeded to 170 before hitting a catch to Crawley from the persevering Tongue. Thereafter events moved with ominous speed. Before lunch Australia found themselves all out for 349. Tongue, Carse, Stokes, and finally Archer harvested six fairly easy wickets. It was as though the Aussies had decreed that they had enough runs and may as well have a crack at England. Allan Border would have kept them out there for much of the day. The taciturn Captain Grumpy would have decreed much more pain, and a target of at least 500. But there: repeated disappointments had driven the iron deep into his flinty heart. Captain Pat seems made of more sanguine and exuberant stuff.

He began by prising out the hapless Duckett in his only over before the main break. If the definition of insanity is to keep on doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result, then Ben Duckett stands accused. Wafting an optimistic diagonal bat well outside off-stump has not worked well for him thus far, and today was no different. Straight after lunch Cummins had the equally hapless Pope brilliantly caught by Labuschagne in the slips. But he saved his best delivery for Joe Root, who had stroked his way to an effortless 39. The Cummins leg-cutter struck again. Root had no need to play at it; unless he feared the off-cutter. As well he might, for a fast bowler who seams the ball both ways is a perilous antagonist.

The crisis came with Harry Brook. We have begun to suspect him of being a flat-track bully. Well here he was, finally batting on an excellent track, and doing as he pleased with the bowling. England had learned their lesson and decreed that in future batsmen would play themselves in before becoming expansive. This Brook did. He, Root, and Crawley had dealt harshly with Lyon, sweeping him (forward and reverse) with impunity. But on 30, with English hopes flickering into new life, he attempted a hopelessly optimistic reverse sweep to Lyon’s quicker, fizzing off-break. It took the leg stump. Brook stood there, bewildered, unable to comprehend what had happened. As Wilfred Rhodes once told a young Varsity man: ‘Tha’s missed it young man. Now p— off: we’ve a train to catch.’ Fortunately, these are more polite times.

Suddenly energised, Lyon steamed in to Stokes and bowled another of his dream balls. Stokes stood motionless, all too aware of what had happened. A 90 k delivery aimed at the stumps, swooping into the pads, and turning away to strike off-stump. There is not much Stokes could have done about it. Meanwhile there was Zak Crawley. Here is a man who has underachieved as an opener. A Test average of around 30 is rather under par. All too often he goes out too hard and throws his hand away. Not today. After 30 balls he had made a solitary single. Thereafter he appeared to discover that patience really is a virtue. As wickets tumbled around him he stood firm, defended when he needed to, and scoring freely when possible.

He made his way to a brilliant 85 before leaving his crease to drive at Lyon, who floated the ball up outside off. Alas for Crawley, it was Lyon’s arm-ball, which sailed impudently past his bat and into Carey’s waiting gloves. The day ended with Jacks and Smith defending desperately against Lyon and Head. At 6/207 you could get odds of a hundred to one on an English victory. The target is 435. Tonight it seems as far afield as the Hindu Kush.

The words of the ancient sea shanty were peculiarly appropriate today. Travis Head and Alex Carey are Croweaters born and bred, and during the evening session they all but snuffed out England’s dying hopes. Which was a thousand pities, since the day began with the redoubtable Stokes and Archer continuing to resist. The ninth wicket stand of 106 in 30 overs demonstrated with stark clarity that the pitch was still at its best, and those prepared to fight it out could survive and prosper. It took Starc’s best ball to crash through Stokes’ defences. His 83 had occupied five hours of watchful defence, and judicious strokeplay. Boland removed Archer for an excellent 51. By this time Australia’s lead had shrunk to less than a hundred.

When Wetherald declined the opportunity to challenge his dubious leg before decision the home team were on the back foot. Labuschagne was not himself, finding that Josh Tongue’s fast in-cutters were squaring him up. He must fix this defect in his technique if he wishes to keep his spot, and it was no surprise when he edged behind. As did Khawaja, though in the languid Queenslander’s defence he had made a sumptuous 40. Usman makes batting look so easy. Green was abominably thoughtless for the second time and edged Tongue to Brook. With Australia at 4/149 England were still in the game.

Head and Carey soon put paid to that. Batting looked suddenly the simple proposition it was. England sprayed the ball around; their spin attack was helpless, and the two local men delighted the immense crowd with their succulent strokeplay. Head’s only blemish was when on 99 he edged a low catch to Brook, who grassed it. After lofting Jacks over his head he raised his bat for his second hundred of the series. Perhaps opening really is his metier after all. And Carey was every bit as impressive. By stumps the home side had reached 4/271. England still may entertain faint hopes; but the horizon suddenly looks a long way distant.

And Stokes did not bowl at all? Give the man a break. He had been cramping horribly during his marathon innings. Despite some dubious captaincy – massively exacerbated by his bowlers’ inability to maintain a decent line and length – he has carried this team on his mighty shoulders with bat, ball, and in the field. He deserves far more help than he has received. One would imagine he will front up tomorrow, with the old ball, and bend his back once more.