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.