The day began inauspiciously with Khawaja attempting an ill-judged hook from the pace of Siraj. So long did the ball hover in the sky you half expected to see ice crystallising on the seam. Pant took his time to take the catch, but he had sufficient leeway to boil a kettle. At 4/17 inglorious embarrassment loomed in the middle distance like a great looming thing. Would anyone be able to give the spectators their money’s worth? Would the ship go down at least with all guns blazing in the time-honoured Aussie way? And if it did not, would this tempt long-neglected selectorial blue-pencils out of shirt pockets?

As it happened, yes it would, and did. Travis Head is an uncomplicated fellow. As befits a man whose home is the Adelaide Oval, he hits the ball hard and often. His technique could best be described as homespun, but it works. He began with commendable caution, scoring but a single of his first dozen deliveries. Thereafter he set about the attack in the only way he knows how. Play back, flick it off pads or body if it’s to leg, and thrash it through the offside otherwise. Smith meanwhile toiled away at the batting crease, having adjusted his stance yet again. Shuffling across to Bumrah simply will not do, and he showed every sign of having reminded himself of this evident truism.

He still shuffles across, mind you. Just not so far. It is his way, and it has worked superbly for him in the past. Until it doesn’t. Rana struck him full amidships, and he went down like the Titanic, and had to be revived. Once upon a time he would have overcome this and all other obstacles placed in his path; but a beauty from Siraj (seaming away instead of in) took the shoulder of his bat. He had laboured painfully for an hour and a half and garnered just 17. Smith shook his mournful head and stalked off, one step closer perhaps to his final curtain.

Head (Travis) by this time was homing in on a virile half-century, and was joined by Mitchell Marsh. They made light of the hostile pace bowling and managed 82 in just 14 overs. Batting, they seemed to show, was by no means impossible. They rode their luck, and were severe on Rana, who did however bowl with pace, fire, and general vim. But Head was undone by Bumrah, and departed for a splendid 89. Thereafter the innings gradually subsided like the slow collapse of an ancient monument. Marsh chopped on to Reddy for 47. Carey and Starc were industrious, managing a brisk 45 off ten overs before Starc clipped Washington in front of square and was brilliantly taken by Jurel at short leg.

Two balls later Lyon played all over Washington and was bowled. The off-spinner had slowed his pace from his subcontinental practice. He did not trouble the batsmen proper, but he proved too much for the tail. The end came just after tea when Carey succumbed to Rana, who thoroughly deserved his consolation wicket. So Australia was massively defeated without the feared humiliating debacle; but Something Will Have To be Done. These top-order collapses have become an endemic bad habit, and a proper opener must be drafted in immediately. Let McSweeney bat at his usual no.3, and please tell Marnus to go back to Shield cricket and practice. At the moment his painful visits to the crease make it appear that he is batting with a musk stick.

India? Well may they rejoice. All eleven players made substantial contributions, and the new-look team is a credit to them and their coach Gautam Gambhir. We await with interest to see if Rohit Sharma in due course elbows one of the openers out of his position. We hope not. Stick with a winning formula.

Cricket, as the late, lamented Brian Johnston used to remark, is a funny game. There is surely no other pastime so dependent on a strip of grass. Depending on conditions, you might pick four seamers, or four spinners. The ground staff promised that this pitch would not form craters, and it hasn’t and doubtless won’t. But it has developed some weird habits. It quickened up on the first evening just in time for Australia’s first innings. Then it levelled out to an excellent batting track. By the third afternoon it has developed some unpleasant quirks, just in time for Australia’s second innings. Some deliveries are flying off the handle. Others are creeping underground, as if hunting for wombats. And there is still abundant seam movement left and right. Strange days indeed.

Conditions have well and truly favoured the visitors. This should not blind anyone to the fact that Australia has been comprehensively outplayed thus far; and barring a miracle the torment will end tomorrow. India began the day as they left off. The idea seemed to be that Hazelwood and Lyon would be played with cautious circumspection. The rest? Why, help yourselves. And they did. Jaiswal’s eventual dismissal for 161 surprised everybody, not least the fortunate bowler (Marsh). A wild and wide one was smacked straight into the hands of Smith in the gully, who held onto it. After a doom-laden scorecard of 1/275 (Starc having removed Rahul for an excellent 77), four wickets fell quickly.

One may have mentioned the question mark against Washington Sundar’s bowling suitability for this surface. As a batsman there can be no doubts. He is a fine cricketer, after all, and he gave stalwart support to Kohli in a stand of 89 for the sixth wicket. After two hours’ worth of patience he flailed wildly at Lyon and gave the veteran spinner his second scalp to add to Pant’s riotous extravagance earlier. But this brought the debutant all-rounder Reddy to the crease. He and Kohli hopped into the bowling with joyous abandon in an unbeaten stand more suited to T20 cricket (77 in 9 overs). Admittedly the bowling by this stage was either exhausted (Lyon), or well below standard (the rest).

One might wonder at the bowling figures of Josh Hazelwood. His analysis finished at 1/28 off 21 overs. Out of almost five hundred! He alone of the seamers commanded respect from the batsmen. The short answer is that he has a long summer ahead of him, and Cummins did not want to kill him off early. There may well be changes to this team for the next match; but Josh will be there.

As soon as Kohli’s hundred came Bumrah called them in. There was only time for four-and-a-bit more overs, but the captain’s instinct was unerring. At stumps the home side is 3/12, having lost the unfortunate McSweeney to another glorious breakback from Bumrah, Cummins the nightwatchman to an injudicious waft outside off from Siraj, and Labuschagne fell to another Bumrah thunderbolt, trapped in front like McSweeney. The stark truth is that Australia went into this match both overconfident and half-baked. It is a grey, grizzled team: apparently the oldest ever to represent this country. They are out of practice, and out of sorts. This match appears beyond saving; but some among them might be playing for their places tomorrow.

India was made to wait before the inevitable wrapup of Australia’s innings. Not by Carey or Lyon, who both wafted unconvincingly at wide deliveries; but by Starc and Hazelwood, of all people. The latter has no pretensions to batsmanship, but he is a stout competitor in all weathers. And Starc? He has been horribly out of form with the bat; but his highest Test score is 99, and against India too. Their last-ditch stand of 25 – the highest of the entire innings – occupied well over an hour and kept the visitors waiting until Starc flailed once too often and holed out. His 26 – also the innings top score – was a fine effort, and Hazelwood also deserves praise for getting in behind the line and not losing his head.

And yet. When your no.9 top-scores, it say much about the other batsmen, and none of it complimentary. Worse, their stubborn resistance told India that the pitch was quietening down by the hour. And so it proved. Hazelwood was tight and accurate. His ten overs have cost just nine runs. Lyon was busy and occasionally demanding. Starc beat the bat repeatedly, but failed to gain the requisite edges. Cummins and Marsh proved broken reeds with the ball. The former was reduced to bowling Labuschagne’s brisk bouncers before the close. And India? Jaiswal and Rahul batted, and batted, and batted.

By stumps they had reached 0/172. Neither looked in much danger, although Jaiswal edged Starc to Khawaja, who spilled it. Jaiswal is a breath of fresh air in this team. He is young, surprisingly patient (given his stellar IPL form), and adaptable. Clearly he had taken due notice of India’s first-innings error and played mostly deep in his crease, looking to pick off the shorter ball when it arrived. And Rahul was Patience on a Monument. His unbeaten 62 has taken over four hours, and more than 150 deliveries. He will not care a jot. There is plenty of time to set the home side an impossible target. Don’t expect a declaration any time soon, however. The pitch is flattening out into a concrete aerodrome; Perth’s notorious crevasses are not expected until Whitsuntide; and anything under 400 is gettable. If Australia can restrict the target to that, they will feel fortunate.

More even than at the Gabba, Perth is the place where cricketing delusions are pitilessly destroyed. The wickets are hard, bouncy, and generally well-grassed. Wrist-spinners here do not prosper. Not even Shane Warne could manage that. You need four seamers, including one medium, into-the-breeze swing bowler, and a finger-spinner prepared to give the ball flight. When batting, (a) leave a lot alone; (b) play back if you can’t drive; (c) your bat must be either horizontal or vertical; (d) do NOT open the face; and (e) if you’re going for a shot, then throw the kitchen sink at it. For bowlers, pitch a yard fuller than usual, hold the seam upright and hope for some swing and seam movement.

So much for conventional wisdom. Both teams were a curious mixture: battle-scarred veterans for the most part; most convincing both themselves and the selectors that they still possess what it takes. Unusually, both teams are captained by premier fast bowlers. Even less likely: both men are pleasant, agreeable fellows. To see Jasprit Bumrah’s face when a catch is dropped off him is to witness nothing but a rueful smile. Bumrah won the toss and batted. Why not, after all? The Indian players flouted part (b) continually in favour of a curious policy best described as Prod Forward With Optimism. All this managed was to present the Australian seam attack with some awfully easy scalps. You poke forward to everything? Fine. We’ll pull our lengths back a bit and take the shoulder of your angled bats.

For the fact that India managed even 150 they can thank Rishabh Pant’s aggressive 37. He fulfilled part (e) with such implacable enthusiasm that at one stage he cleared the boundary for six while lying on the ground as if wrestling with a crocodile in the manner of Steve Irwin. They can also thank the debutant fourth seamer Reddy, whose top score of 41 was a splendid mix of caution and daring. Some kudos also belongs to Lokesh Rahul, who stuck it out manfully for nearly two hours; and only departed to the faintest of outside edges. For Australia, Hazelwood’s relentless, metronomic accuracy took the spoils with four wickets, while Starc, Cummins and Marsh shared two apiece. Marsh bowled only five overs, but fulfilled the role of the absent Green with aplomb and cunning.

All eyes were now on Bumrah. His batsmen having let him down, he attacked the stumps in a brilliant spell, taking three scalps in his opening four overs. Australia’s bats faithfully obeyed precepts (a) and (b), but it didn’t help. Seeing the preference for back-play, India pitched full. They swung the ball late, they seamed the ball sharply off the well-grassed surface, and the home side had no answers. Labuschagne had, it was rumoured, decided to play with caution and not chase the ball outside off. The result was a tortuous 2 off 52 balls before he succumbed leg-before to the equally inspired Siraj. At stumps Australia was a dismal 7/67, hanging on the precipice of an embarrassing debacle. India’s 150 looks a long way away now.

And yet. The unobtrusive Carey remains at the crease. Perhaps he can manage something tomorrow. We have already seen Reddy with the bat. He has not bowled yet. And the chosen spinner, inexplicably, is Washington Sundar, presumably on the back of his eleven wickets in a losing side against New Zealand. On a crumbling pitch his slow-medium off-breaks are a deadly menace. But this pitch wouldn’t crumble after fifteen rounds with a stump-jump plough. Once again Ravi Ashwin will be sitting in the dressing room wondering why on earth he wasn’t chosen. There are moments when reason fails.