Captain Pat was the Mullagh medallist today, and rightly so. There were many alternative options for today’s header: one of which was the Latin tag Naturam expellas furca tamen usque recurret. (Horace. Look it up if you don’t know it.) Nature will strike back, however you try to overcome it. Bowl fifth stump to Kohli, seaming away, and he will edge to slips. (He did.) Tempt Pant with off-spin at both ends? Sooner or later he will go for it, and probably hole out in the deep. (He did.) But Cummins presided over all; and confounded his critics, most of whom know far less about cricket than he does.

Another alternative header was going to be The Day Of The Phantom. Bill Lawry (obdurate opening bat, Australian captain and renowned pigeon-fancier) once told a less than impressed Ian Chappell ‘Look, we’re playing for a draw. If we even think about trying to win then we’re going to lose.’ The Barnacle hated losing. Had India followed Lawry’s instructions to the letter they might have saved this game. One bloke who was entirely guiltless is Jaiswal. Absolutely nobody should blame him for chasing a wide ball and gloving it behind. India were six down already. He batted for over 200 deliveries. He’d made his second eighty of the match. Had he made it through to stumps it would have been he, and not Cummins, as Player of the Match.

For a long while before tea, he had help. From 3/33 at lunch, India made it to 3/112 by tea. Rishabh Pant had evidently taken harsh criticism from Gavaskar et al on board, and restrained himself admirably. At no point did India attempt to win the match. These men are realists, and knew that Cummins’ decision to bat on until the last hurrah had taken an Indian victory out of the realms of possibility. Both sides knew that after tea on day five, the MCG wicket will spring to life like a monster from the slab. At the first bolt of lightning from the metaphysical heavens, the ball will start playing tricks like David Copperfield entertaining a TV audience.

Few could appreciate at the time Cummins’ decision to open with Head and Lyon after tea. Yet it made perfect sense. We need a wicket, and what remains of my seam attack must be fresh enough to take advantage thereafter. Lyon commanded respect, as ever; but Head? Really? The implied insult to Pant’s batting skills could no longer be denied. Unable to deny temptation a moment longer he swiped at Head, and was brilliantly taken at long on by Marsh. The latter may well have played his final Test match, but he contributed well in the field with two fine catches.

Immediately Cummins brought back his quicks. Three down became six down in no time at all.  But with the new ball imminent, Cummins then put his trust in Boland and Lyon, and they did not disappoint. He himself and his battered offsider Starc – arguably now held together with duct-tape – he held back for the new ball, should it be needed. But it wasn’t. Boland made the ball leap off a good length, and Lyon – bowling at one stage to five slips – was good enough to sweep away the tail. Spare a thought also for Washington Sundar. Five not out from 45 deliveries is a poor return for a quality batsman. He, and Reddy, ought to have been in early.

With Cummins comprehensively vindicated, and his captaincy belatedly pronounced flawless, both teams have changes to make. In a contest of titans there is no room for passengers. Richardson should come in for Starc, to give the heroic left-arm quick a rest; and the time for Webster to replace Marsh can no longer be put off. For India, it is time to bid farewell to both Kohli and Sharma. The younger players have performed brilliantly. But you cannot carry two veterans at once who do not seem to realise that their time has passed. And on to Sydney!

Today had everything as a whirlwind of change swept across the match. Having captained ineffectually for three days Rohit was all energy and spark. Too much of the latter: showing public disgust at dropped catches from Jaiswal is not good. For once rather than bowling Bumrah into the ground he used him in short bursts. Effectively? One three-over burst produced three top-order wickets. And after his woeful performance in the first innings Siraj roared in like a wounded tiger and bowled with pace, fire, seam movement and precision. For Australia, Head went from gourmet chocolates to boiled sweets, falling cheaply twice. Things that stayed the same? Akash Deep remained luckless. Marsh was overwhelmed, again. Konstas?  Cummins? More of them anon.

The day began with a final flurry from Reddy, cut short by an outfield catch from the patient Lyon. He, Cummins and Boland shared the wickets (three each). And Australia went out to face the rejuvenated visitors. Konstas fell to another brutish delivery from Bumrah which bit back at him and took the stumps. It became a familiar tale. All but one of the top order fell to high-quality seam bowling, and there wasn’t much they could do about it. Smith fell chasing a wide one. To be fair, with the lead approaching 200 he clearly felt that it was time to press down the accelerator. But his dismissal opened the gates to a middle-order disaster.

At 6/91 the home side was on the precipice. Only Khawaja had managed to stay long. His 21 doesn’t sound much, but his innings was meritorious. He chewed up 65 deliveries and was only out bowled through the gate. It is a flaw in his technique; but only a small one, and he had done his job with quiet flair and calmness. Back in the mists of antiquity, when fifth-day pitches crumbled to dust, and Shep was a player rather than a beloved umpire, a fourth-innings chase of 200 was a challenging target. But it wasn’t enough here and everyone knew it. If somehow that could be stretched to 300 Australia would breathe again. But at this point it seemed as far away as Roxburgh Park or Coolaroo.

Into the inferno strode the home captain. To his first ball he backed away and scythed it through the off-side for four. It’s his favourite shot: a half-drive, half cut. Don’t try this at home, people, but it seems to work for him. At the other end the rehabilitated Labuschagne had kept his head. He was lucky, of course. You needed luck to survive the Indian pace hurricane. There were more plays and misses than at an incels’ picnic. They added 57 priceless runs together before Marnus was trapped in front by a seaming monster from Siraj. With a pair of 70s in the game he has booked his place for a while yet.

Starc ran himself out trying for a second which wasn’t on. Cummins protected Lyon from the strike and made his way to a masterful 41. It took an excellent away-spinner from Jadeja to get rid of him. At 9/173 the lead was approaching 300. But surely the last pair would not endure long? Lyon and Boland had other ideas. The problem was that India’s pacemen were utterly spent. Bumrah and Siraj bowled 46 overs today. It had been a worthwhile gamble from Sharma, and it almost paid off. The last pair were having none of it. The ball is old, and we’re determined to eke out every run we can get. While Boland defended like Horatius on the Tiber bridge, Lyon went for his shots. He doesn’t have many; but he played them all, and India could do nothing.

By stumps they had managed a stand of 55 not out. The Goat is on 41, and having the time of his life out there. India seemed resigned. Did Australia miss a trick by not declaring? On balance, probably not. The pitch is wearing fast. Reverse swing is on offer, and uneven bounce. But Indian batsmen can overcome obstacles like these. They’ve done it before. Cummins had probably called this correctly. The lead is 333. At the very least he may want to bat on, if only to run the heavy roller once more time. More tomorrow.

Australia must have begun the day with high hopes. Five wickets to get; a lead over 300; what could go wrong? Well now. The pitch has faded to straw-coloured macadam. And India bat deep, so to speak. Perhaps Pant will indulge in one of his absurd strokes and get himself out. Well, he did just that. It was half-ramp, half one of his acroballetic hook strokes. Straight after being hit in the breadbasket attempting a similar stroke. He was then well and truly baked by a number of luminaries of Indian cricket. Unfairly? Maybe. It might have gone for six on Indian grounds. As it was, Lyon took the catch not far in from the rope. It really is the way he plays. Would they have said the same for Konstas?

Nevertheless. Then Jadeja, who had been Patience On A Monument, was deceived by Lyon after a series of looped off-breaks and trapped in front by the faster arm-ball. A right-handed version in fact of so many of Jaddu’s own victims. At 7/221 the visitors were on a precipice. The problem for Australia was that numbers 8 and 9 are class batsmen, and they showed it. Washington Sundar hit a solitary boundary in his patient 50. And Reddy? It has been obvious to everybody except the selectors that he is India’s best middle-order bat all series, and ought to be no lower than no. 5. His century was richly-deserved, and Australia could do nothing about it except hope for a wicket at the other end.

Cummins toiled with might and main for his 3/86. Occasionally he managed seam movement where none was obtainable from anyone else. Boland was Boland: tight, economical, patient, and deserving. 3/57 off 27 overs on a bland pitch says it all. Lyon, given nothing much from the pitch, varied his flight and commanded respect. Starc toiled fruitlessly. At one point he sprayed the new ball wide of leg. Washington wafted at it as if dusting the mantelpiece. It took the back of the bat, curled behind the stumps and into the diving Smith’s hand, and out again. To be fair to Smith, it was a difficult catch he would normally take, except that when the ball is going down leg you would not expect a slips catch. You might as well expect it to play a sudden bagpipe sonata. Concentration in cricket must be zealously husbanded, lest it grow dull from overuse.

Finally with Reddy on 99 Lyon broke through Washington’s defence with the faster, flatter ball that turns and jumps, and Sundar edged it to slip. Cummins seized the ball and removed Bumrah with a fireball just outside off, edged to Khawaja at slip. Reddy completed his hundred with heart in mouth, knowing the combustible Siraj was all that stood between him and some unwanted red ink, and straight-drove Boland back over his head. Siraj made a couple, and then the rain came. Tomorrow? An unthinkable second draw on the trot now looms as a possibility. For this they can thank their all-rounders, none more so than Nitish Kumar Reddy. For Australia, lack of a proper fifth bowler cost them dear. Food for thought in Sydney? We hope so. Beau Webster awaits in the wings.

After the baking weather of yesterday the pitch had notably faded from celery to parsley, and getting people out was going to be harder. Smith had a point to prove, and so did the captain. So well did they play that their partnership blossomed. Cummins of late he has recovered some of his early form as a batsman. When he lunged forward, he drove. When they dropped short he scythed them through the off-side. He did not let up until Jadeja held one back a trifle and he holed out to deep mid-off for a superb 49. The seventh wicket stand produced 112 priceless runs.

But the story of the morning was Smith. As hyperactive as ever, he appears to have concluded that back-and-across does not work for him. Sideways and across having likewise failed him, he now moves forward and across. His pads are outside off. If the ball travels stumpward, he plays French cricket with both pads, bat, body and kitchen sink behind it. If it’s outside leg he might hook in the air and carry the boundary. And outside off he will drive, glide, or leave. It must drive bowlers mad, but it works. Especially at the MCG. He averages eighty-something here.

By lunch Australia had reached 7/454. That’s 143 runs in a two-hour session. Some of the blame must be levelled at Siraj, who gave as acephalous an exhibition of fast bowling as we have seen in a long time. Some of the blame must also go to the aimless captaincy of Sharma, of whom a charitable depiction would be likened to a palaeontologist confronted for the first time with a Rubik’s cube. But the bulk of the runs were down to sensible, adventurous batting on an easy-paced pitch. Smith now has back-to-back hundreds, and may write his own ticket for another season or two.

After lunch India finally got their act together and polished off the tail. The hard-working Deep finally bowled Smith under absurd circumstances (played on after advancing halfway to the grandstand for a wild swipe) for 140, and the end came soon after. A late minor highlight was Mitchell Starc off-driving Bumrah for six using his wife’s bat. Apparently he feels his levers are long enough already and he prefers Alyssa’s short-handled weapon. Bumrah, as ever, smiled. At least he’d pitched the ball up. India were too short yesterday afternoon, and Siraj persisted with hairy-chested folly even today. 23/3/122/0 was his final less than flattering analysis.

Chasing 474 was an unappetising prospect, and when Cummins removed Sharma (who promoted himself to opener) for 3 things got worse. Jaiswal however dug in with Rahul, and raised the fifty. Starc could make nothing of the surface; Boland kept them pinned down, and Cummins was, as ever, a constant menace. On the stroke of tea he bowled Rahul with another trademark leg-cutter into the off-bail and India were two down. No blame attaches to Rahul, unlike his captain, whose hesitant half-pull was the stroke of a man wondering what numbers he should choose for weekend Tattslotto.

At 2/51 India were in dire straits. But Kohli and Jaiswal put their heads down and put on over a hundred. Jaiswal was superb, showing all the class he had demonstrated in Perth. Kohli meanwhile batted like a man truly in peril of his place, and showed the broad bat so greatly feared during his long career. Disaster struck in the 41^st over when a grotesque mixup sent Jaiswal back to the pavilion, run out for 82.

He played the ball to a deepish mid-on and called for a single. He was running to the danger end. Inexplicably, Kohli turned back, and left his young comrade high and dry. So distressed must he have been that soon afterwards he forgot all his earlier caution and got himself out in his usual fashion, hanging his bat well outside off as if inserting a stake in his front garden. Boland gave a wry smile. He is a caution on this pitch with his accurate, consistent length. He knows the pitch well enough that the stumps are always in play when he’s bowling. Then Deep the nightwatchman failed to survive, edging him to Lyon at leg-gully. India will resume at 5/164 with a mountain ahead of them.

As happens all too often on this day, the weather was unpropitious. 39 degrees, cloudy, with the promise of, if not meatballs, at least rain to follow at some juncture. The first surprise was team selection. Australia retained Marsh, for reasons obscure, but took the plunge and inserted teenage wunderkind Sam Konstas, of whom it will often be said, and frequently ad nauseam. India meanwhile lost patience with Gill and chose a curious side consisting of four batsmen, a keeper, three all-rounders and three seamers. Actually this was a sensible choice. Washington, Jaddu and Reddy are a more reliable source of runs than many of their alleged batsmen.

The pre-lunch session was a revelation. Despite the furnace-like conditions an enormous crowd had foregathered, and behold! they were indeed entertained. Australia for once won the toss and decided to bat. You should generally bat first, and the weather would have persuaded Captain Pat that to field would be madness. The Boy Wonder took guard from Bumrah and was beaten four times in the opening over. Do not allow anyone to tell you India bowled badly before lunch. They bowled as well as ever they have. After six overs Australia‘s openers were clinging to the crease. The ball was seaming everywhere and it looked like only a matter of time.

The seventh over of the innings will doubtless be installed in You-Tube heaven. Not least of the wonders was that Konstas had already tried twice to ramp Bumrah and failed horribly. Yet he persisted. He took 14 off Bumrah’s fourth over, and 18 off his sixth. His ramps and reverse ramps were as audacious as anything seen in a long age. Fortuna fortes adjuvat? Well, yes, but there is much more to it than that. Young Sam reasoned that to stand your ground and be shot at by the greatest of all current bowlers would be suicide. So I am going to ramp him. And the others. I will march out of my crease and smack them all. Was he lucky? Of course he was. But it was a bold gamble: well-reasoned, and successful.

So successful that he was shirtfronted by Kohli, who really ought to have known better. Konstas hosed the matter down, and deserves full marks for diplomacy. Knowing when not to pour petrol on a spot-fire is but one of the skills young cricketers must learn. His audacious innings was cut short by the belated introduction of Jaddu, who persuaded the Boy Wonder that he was turning the ball when he wasn’t. Lbw for 60 off 65 is not a bad introduction to Test cricket. His opening onslaught gave the home side several priceless advantages. It took all the pressure off Khawaja, who quietly accumulated at the other end. And by the time he was out it meant that Australia had the whip-hand, and intended to keep it.

After lunch nothing much happened except that the fielding side flagged and drooped in the baking heat. That was fine with Usman and Marnus. Khawaja was eventually out to a mistimed pull for a fine 57. It was a geographical distance from Bumrah’s best deliveries, but if anyone deserved a bit of luck it is the tireless Jasprit. Thereafter Labuschagne and Smith played quietly until tea, taken with the home side 2/176. They had neither intention nor incentive to take any risks. The longer we keep them out there, the more weary and dispirited they will get. The proof of which would come in the evening.

The first hour after tea was all India. The scribes had suggested that it would be spin all the way on a baking afternoon in the pizza oven. While Rohit Sharma has hardly distinguished himself this series he knew enough to throw the ball to Bumrah. Who else? And once more he did not let him down. First Washington induced a false shot from Labuschagne, who gave his hand away at 72. Bumrah bowled Head for a duck; and India, so tormented by the left-hander this series, breathed a huge sigh of relief. Head left alone a wicked leg-cutter. As he shouldered arms his moustache might well have crumbled from his incredulous upper lip. Predictably, Marsh whacked a boundary and then edged to slip.

With the home side tottering at 5/246 Bumrah had three of them. No words can express adequately how brilliant a spell this had been. With an ounce of luck Australia would be all out by now. Not since Dennis Lillee has a team been so reliant on a lion-hearted paceman. But by drinks even he was forced from the field with what appeared to be a calf strain. He could do no more, and no-one could have done as much.  And there was Smudger, patiently accumulating runs, and grateful to be given an old ball wherewith to play himself in. Realising that the old ball needed to be punished, he whacked a couple of cow corner sixes from outside off. And Carey was Carey, quietly patting the ball here and there as though sweeping leaves from his front lawn. The home dressing room breathed a little easier. But no more wickets must go down tonight.

At 5.35pm the new ball was due. And Bumrah reappeared. Alas, he was a spent force by now. Anyone would have been in such weather, and after such a workload. Carey helped himself to seven runs from his over. But it was the persevering Akash Deep who removed Carey with an away-cutter which lifted alarmingly. Deep is a product of hardscrabble Bihar who worked his way into a cricket career in Kolkata. He has earned his place and gives everything to his side. It was he who strolled out at No.11 to save the follow-on in Brisbane, and made light work of it. He has bowled brilliantly without a scintilla of luck and finally got some just reward. Carey’s 31 was however a crucial innings, steering the home side into calm waters. Cummins took most of the remaining strike, for which Smith must have been grateful.

With 6/311 Australia is ahead of the game. For once the top four all made fifties. None has gone on with it, which has caused comment. But there: you’re never really in at the G. Smith loves batting here because he knows that. His battle computers never switch off. His unbeaten 68 holds the key to further progress. But the day belonged to Konstas. Urged by his captain to play as if it were backyard cricket, he did just that, and turned the tide in an hour of fury. Only 86 overs in six and a half hours? For once there was excuse of a sort. It was horribly hot; and several batsmen were recipients of Ted Wainwright’s advice to the young Neville Cardus: ‘It ‘im in t’cobbles! A moment’s respite is owed to the victims. More tomorrow.

Persistent rain, injury and ill fortune conspired to foil Australian hopes for a quick victory today. But the most crucial reason was India’s resolute batting. Bad luck struck early. On the very first ball of the day Cummins beat Rahul pointless. The ball flew straight into Smith’s breadbasket. And he dropped it. Nobody could believe it, least of all the misfortunate Smudger. The man is one of the best slip fielders ever to play this summer game. He has almost two hundred Test catches, mostly in the slips. And no: his reflexes are still fine. He proved it in the gloaming by taking a blinder at slip off the persevering Lyon.

And yet. His earlier miss was the game’s turning point. With India four down already, and nobody expecting Sharma to stay long (he didn’t), it was absolutely vital to get Jadeja and Reddy batting while the ball still had some life in it. India could have been rolled for 150, and following on: who even knows? An innings victory beckoned. As it was, Rahul stuck around. More than that: he played his shots. After the thirty-fifth over or so conditions had settled into the standard Gabba pattern. Help yourself while you can. And he did. His 84 saved India from innings defeat. And Jaddu? He may not be the world’s best fielder any more. His bowling – so lethal on the subcontinent – is quite unsuited to these hard Antipodean pitches. But he can bat all right.

Australia toiled hard and nobly in the field. Losing Hazlewood to what was described as ‘calf awareness’ was a huge blow. We don’t really know what calf awareness is, and it sounds like a job for a blue heeler; but as a result he is out for the series. Marsh’s bowling proved again a broken reed, although he took two brilliant catches. If enthusiasm were all he would still be worth his place. This left everything on Cummins, who was magnificent throughout; Starc, who was menacing and persevering; and Lyon, who was accurate and probing. But with an old, wet ball, getting batsmen out wasn’t easy. Rahul and Jadeja stuck to their task admirably, and were only denied centuries by two brilliant catches (Smith and Marsh).

When the ninth wicket fell the follow-on was still some distance away. India’s batsmen have not flourished here, by and large. But their bowlers have carried them. Bumrah and Deep assessed the situation and realised that the new ball was 14 overs distant. Plenty of time to knock off the runs. If you pitch up we will drive. If you bowl short we will carry the boundary. It was nothing to them to add 39 off nine overs, and save the follow-on. With conditions all in their favour, why not?

What will happen tomorrow? Who even knows? Captains of old would treat day 5 as batting practice in these circumstances. It may still happen. But we don’t know that. There may yet be a twist in the tale. Doubtless Hazlewood will be replaced by Melbourne’s favourite son Scott Boland. Marsh may possibly give place to Webster. India need to decide if they are going to keep on carrying Sharma and Kohli, and leaving too much to the rest. Given the politics of the BCCI, the odds are still on that. They might even score runs in Melbourne.

Meanwhile across the ditch New Zealand completed their consolation win over England, by a mere 423 runs. The chimaera of the so-called moral victory will be doubtless stricken from English lips. But they are a resilient lot, these English. Before succumbing to Santner’s left-arm tweakers Gus Atkinson belted an amusing 43 as the ship went down. He and Brydon Carse are part of the new wave of English quicks. They will be waiting for us, next Ashes. Bring it on!

Thanks once more to the subtropical nature of latitude 27 degrees south there was little enough cricket today. Theoretically two days remain, worth at an optimistic maximum 196 overs. Surely enough to knock over the remaining sixteen Indian wickets? You would think so, but almost certainly there will be further curtailments to the match. What we did see on Day Three was enough to convince us that India are on the run, and the glories of Perth are suddenly but a distant memory.

Proceedings began with India defending the boundary against Carey. Cummins spurned the very idea of declaration. Why should I? one imagined him saying. Keep them out there and tire them out. With one last supernal effort Bumrah removed Starc with a slower ball, then retired to the outfield to allow Deep and Siraj to clean up the tail. Which they did in due course, but not before Carey finished an invaluable 70. With 445 on the board defeat was now more or less out of the question. Starc began proceedings with two wickets in his first seven deliveries: Jaiswal and Gill, both to loose wafts.

For reasons best known to the Indian selectors Kohli is still in the side at no.4. Nobody else can fathom it. Yes, he made a hundred in Perth’s second innings when the bowling was as flat as the Nullarbor Plain. On a wicket with any life in it he should be batting at No.11. Everyone knows how to get him out now. Fifth stump line seaming away; he’ll follow it; edge behind; thanks for coming. But here is the weirdest thing of all. The local men (Smith, Labuschagne et al) have tied themselves in knots trying to overcome the technical doubts which bedevil them of late. Virat? He just keeps playing the same old way; and to the complete surprise of nobody at all he departed in the same old way. Hazlewood grinned a blokey grin, wishing no doubt that all batsmen were as easily befuddled.

And then there was Lokesh Rahul. Now here is a cricketer of substance. We already knew that, but today he shone out like a diamond in a sweep’s ear. His first delivery from Hazlewood rose like a striking cobra and rapped him on the wrist, causing the usual swarm of medicinal attendants. But he brushed it all aside, dug in, and when the heavens opened again he could nurse his wounds in the pavilion. India’s hopes of avoiding defeat do rest with him, as well as the rain-gods. He is 33 not out in a score of 4/51, and a standing reproach to his fellows on what sensible batting might achieve even on helpful pitches. Little blame attaches to Pant, who succumbed to a good one from Cummins which lifted off a length; and that’s all that may be said of it.

Meanwhile in Hamilton England are chasing 645 to win. They are 2/18, and it is doubtful if Stokes will be able to bat. A man with his long injury history would not bowl 23 overs in an innings. But in Durham they don’t do restraint or caution. Assuming New Zealand win, it will be a victory of the unfashionable over the glitz and tinsel of so-called BazBall. For the Kiwis everyone made runs, none more so than the redoubtable Williamson. Allowing Mitchell Santner to prosper as he has (76, 3/7 and 49 thus far) might cause England a few red faces; but this is a fine cricketer, after all, and a worthy successor to Dan Vettori. And Test cricket bids an affectionate farewell to Tim Southee, who failed to add to his 98 Test sixes. 389 wickets weren’t bad either. More as it comes to hand.

When Rohit Sharma won the toss and inserted the home side, he was gambling on two things: that the pitch would not break up, and that there was nothing to fear from Nathan Lyon late in the match. That’s as may be, but many a captain before him would have advised against this. Day One was ruined by persistent showers, and the home openers negotiated the fourteen and a half overs without mishap. Even more so than in Perth, the Gabba is ruled over by Janus, the two-faced Roman god of doorways and beginnings. If you can’t bat, you will be found out. But … while batting will be very demanding for the first thirty overs, thereafter you may usually help yourself until the new ball.

So while one might well claim that the Australian top order failed yet again, another way of looking at it would be that they did their job. Nos 1 to 3 barely troubled the scorers, contributing just 42 runs. It was of probably more moment to suggest that the 158 deliveries they absorbed was just as crucial as the later carnage. Batting really does get a lot easier in Brisbane. Both openers were out to the unearthly genius of Bumrah, and there wasn’t a lot they could have done abut it. Labuschagne was more to blame, chasing a wide one from Reddy. He really needs to stop doing this, else his place in the side will be taken by others.

And meanwhile there was Smith, arguably on his last chance. He is a frightful tease for bowlers, and has been for time out of reckoning. His response to his late travails was to wander around the crease more rather than less. But his decision to bat out of his crease was well-judged. Surprisingly, at absolutely no point was Pant asked to stand up to the stumps (save for the spin of Jadeja). Smith was suitably grateful, and nurdled his way to a sedate thirty-odd. Thereupon he opened up, and behold! the demigods of the game were with him. He brought up his hundred and was so relieved that he got himself out straight afterwards.

By this time Travis Head was well past his own century. It had been a brilliantly-judged partnership of 241 from fifty-odd overs. Both men knew that batting would be much harder later on, and filled their boots while the going was good.  Head of course knows that his best strategy is, as ever, to hit the ball hard and often. And he did. India must be sick and tired of the sight of him: his bowler’s droop moustache, his guileless countenance, and his incandescent blade. They could do nothing about it, and Rohit barely even tried to do something different.

With the advent of the second new ball, Bumrah roused himself for one final effort. He has been India’s first, last and frequently only hope this series with the ball, and his new ball spell garnered three priceless wickets, including the two centurions. If only one of the others could rise to the occasion. But they could not. Deep and Siraj huffed and puffed: the latter with more testosterone than good sense; but neither made much of an impression. Jadeja had a day he would rather forget. Head and Smith hopped joyfully into his toothless bowling, which cost him almost five an over. But there: the Gabba is a terrible place to bowl flat spin. Ashwin’s flight would have been a better option.

When the sixth wicket fell at 327 the game was still evenly poised. With the rampaging Bumrah swinging and seaming the new ball all over the shop, it seemed for a moment that the home side might be dismissed for 350-odd. He has bowled 25 overs already, and his return of 5/72 barely does justice to the quality of his work. But new ball or not, Alex Carey calmly sailed the ship into calmer waters. He put on 58 with Cummins, and (so far) another 20 with Starc. Four hundred has been raised, and Carey himself has raced to a barely obtrusive run-a-ball 45, if such a thing is possible. India must strike early on the morrow. But poor Jasprit must be exhausted already. Mayhap one of the others might rise to the moment. Or not, of course.

India’s faint hopes of a Headingley miracle did not survive Starc’s opening over. It was a thoroughly eventful one, in which Pant alternated between watchful defence and wild gesticulation with his bat. Australia burnt another review when the ball brushed the Indian keeper’s pad, but on the final delivery Starc produced another memorable gem. His inswinger is potent enough without adding in his away-cutter. This ball did both, and no blame attaches to Pant for nicking it to Smith.

Ashwin by contrast was very much to blame for repeatedly swiping at Cummins’ bouncers. It was third time unlucky for him when he nicked it to the keeper, thus reprising Rahul’s earlier dismissal. Ashwin has six Test centuries to his name; but his batting form has drifted alarmingly, which might perhaps explain India’s reluctance to pick him as their front-line spinner. Most fast bowlers can be safely hooked on most occasions. Cummins cannot, owing to his steepling bounce. He has a goodly harvest of wickets to prove it.

Meanwhile there was the diligent Reddy. He was fortunate to survive a difficult dropped chance from Starc, but he persisted, hoping that someone might stay with him. Rana survived a popped chance from Cummins where Head, running backwards from short leg and looking fearfully over his shoulder like Ben Turpin beneath a falling building, just failed to haul it in. But Cummins and Boland swept the tail away, Reddy again top-scoring with an admirable 42. Australia knocked off the 19 runs needed for victory without mishap, and the victory was achieved in seven sessions.

It was a stunning turnaround indeed from the debacle in Perth, and a quiet vindication for Captain Pat, who has turned the deafest of ears to the peanut gallery and their asinine cries of Let Loose The Old-Time Mongrel. Cummins and his men are well aware that blokedom and macho are two quite different qualities. This may well be the wokest team in Australia’s history, assuming that the w-word still retains any meaning after the postmodernist grumpies have had their way with it. This side does not care in the slightest about the alleged virtues of the larrikin past. They are old only in chronology. Tough as old boots is what they truly are.

And so to Brisbane, with added rest days. For the visitors, presumably Rana will give place to Akash Deep. Sharma, Gill and company will seek to prove that they are more than flat-track bullies. And Reddy must be given more scope for his undoubted talents. He has been their most consistent batsman so far, and his lively medium swingers create chances. For Australia, Smith may get one more chance to prove he still has it. Marsh’s position is under threat from Webster. And Boland, who took five good wickets, will doubtless give way for the return of Hazelwood. But unless the pitch takes more seam than is customary at the Gabba, Boland’s unerring accuracy might work against him. Huzzah for Australia, and let the contest continue.