One is not concerned with the soccer-related shenanigans occurring in Canada, Mexico and the Hermit Kingdom. Rather it is T20 World Cup time again. Australia kicks off against South Africa at Old Trafford in the group of, if not death, then perhaps imminent peril. Group 1 also contains India, and at most two of these teams can progress to the finals. Two matches have already been decided in the other group, where the home side blasted Sri Lanka off the park at Edgbaston; and Scotland easily accounted for Ireland in the curtain-raiser here. Sure as Rain at Old Trafford has been an aphorism since the days of John Wisden; but brief glimpses of azure sky and cotton-wool cumulus clouds bespoke a pleasing clemency from on high.
Newly annointed skipper Sophie Molineux won the toss and decided to bat, deducing that the pitch – which resembled a strip of sandpaper laid over a concrete block – would play lower and slower later in the day. Georgia Voll’s inauspicious Cup debut ended with a miscued pull shot for a duck; and Beth Mooney was not herself, defending grimly before chasing a wide one. Wolvaardt elected to bowl her two veteran quicks for the entire power play. Kapp and Ismail bowled with fire and venom, and batting looked difficult against the new ball.
But not for Phoebe Litchfield. Utterly untroubled by the chaos around her, she drove, swept, cut and pillaged her way to fifty. From 23 deliveries, if you please. But she miscued Khaka to Wolvaardt and marched off in fast-medium dudgeon. Of course Wolvaardt caught it. Would she drop anything at all, up to and including her car keys? You might as well expect the entrance of a unicorn in a gingham dress from the pavilion. She took three catches: two of them blinders. Gardner came and went, to a spooned catch from Mlaba, who was the pick of the bowlers, finishing with 2/22 from her four overs, including two at the death. She varied her flight and pace skilfully: sometimes firing in with the spear-gun, and otherwise offering up deliciously-tempting poisoned floaters.
With four down you might expect Australia to consolidate, but the appearance of Wareham at six put paid to that idea. And Perry, who had experienced little of the bowling, decreed that full steam ahead was the best and only possible strategy. They put on 58 off 38 before Wareham fell to Wolvaardt’s final catch. Wickets kept falling, which bothered Australia not a bit. All of these women can bat. There is less tail to this batting order than in a squadron of Manx cats. The innings finished at 8/172, which will be a challenging target. But there is always Wolvaardt. And Kapp. And de Klerk.
Molineux opened the bowling herself with her left-arm spin, and trapped Luus in front. Next over Kim Garth beat Dercksen for pace and took her off-stump via the pads. Surprisingly de Klerk was promoted to four and at once set to work. When King came in with her leg-breaks de Klerk should have been caught on the boundary at bovine corner. Inexplicably, Gardner fumbled it over the boundary for six. By the end of the power play South Africa had reached 43, with de Klerk on a belligerent 22.
The appearance of Wareham in the seventh over made a momentous change as the tall leggie pegged back de Klerk’s off stump. Then Marizanne Kapp was caught loafing on a second run by Wareham’s rocket arm and sent on her way. Meanwhile Wolvaardt was looking anything but content with her lot. Trying to force the pace when your bat feels as though it is made from rubber is always frustrating. She managed a superb inside-out extra cover six from Molineux, but perished to Wareham’s acrobatic catch next ball. Thereafter the Australian spin quartet overwhelmed the rest. Wareham was adjudged Player of the Match for her all-round efforts. A sprightly 22-ball 32, 3/13, a catch and a run-out: really, what more could anyone ask of her? The truth was that Australia had far more contributors than the Proteas, who rely far too much on their gallant captain.