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.