With another Test match kicking off today at the House of Histrionics, let’s hark back to a time when a local Iceman produced an SCG matinee that gripped the galleries like a mud crab.
It was Day 2 of the fifth Test in the 2002-03 Ashes, a day when our Steve Waugh counterattacked adversity with a bacon-saving ton. It electrified the nation, revived his career and triggered a spike of fortunes for the memorabilia industry.
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In the all-you-can-eat state of the modern game, it is events like these that the haggard shrew of passing time brands as one of those ‘where were you’ things for Oz and cricket people alike.
Whether secretly finding a telly by lying to family about work, or lying to work about illness, or perhaps actually being one of the 250,000-odd that now claim to have been there on the day, it truly was One Moment in Time – the type of memory that plays in your head with the backing track of an inspirational Whitney Houston anthem.
In an excellent segue, most of the circumstances surrounding the innings at the time were just like one of Houston’s adult-contemporary chartbusters – steadily orthodox, and typifying the era.
Australia were their usual carnivorous selves of the golden years, whereas England were the sacrificial turkey leg they so often feasted upon. Coming in to Sydney, the series was squared away to the hosts at a rather convincing 4-0.
Yes, this summer was bog standard early-noughties Ashes, except for one minor detail. Skipper Waugh was trapped inside a sequence of crap scores with the bat, floundering on struggle street and becoming increasingly friendless.
Despite staving off pressure with a first innings 77 in the preceding Test in Melbourne, the skipper couldn’t shake the external naysaying of a summer spent searching for the middle of the bat, and this reached its highest point after his whacky second innings knock that many pundits accurately described as ‘Da fuuuq?’
With Steve Harmison nagging and a nasty migraine to contend with, Waugh looked punch drunk in a shambolic stint of French cuts, half-appeals and uncertainty. It was distressingly ugly, and it instilled the kind of hope in the public usually saved for a 500/1 greyhound.
After snicking up and being given not out and then caught in the covers off a no-ball, he was eventually put out of his misery for a woeful 14. As he was halfway back to the pavilion, the phone rang from selector Trevor Hohns with a message – Sydney was now an official exclusion zone for excuses, and he had to produce the cash or perish.
True to form, the SCG turned on a heavy buzz for the innings that would decide a career, and when the skipper strode to the crease on the second day with Australia at 3/56 – a position perfectly precarious for a Waugh-style rescue – it was all eyes on him.
After a scratchy start, the captain decided he’d had enough of himself. Watchfulness was ditched and caution thrown to the wind, resulting in a frisky 50 from 61 balls that included 10 boundaries.
It was drives, cuts and icy stares, also known as The Tugga of Old. He was back, baby.
From here, Waugh spent the afternoon setting the place alight by slashing England with disdain, and the only question now was if he could give the baying crowd what it so desired – triple figures by stumps.
The timing was proving tight, and coming in to the final over of the day, Waugh had amped the drama by being on a tantalising 95. After nervously nurdling the first few balls from bottle-top trivia man Richard Dawson, he eventually slapped one away for three to go to 98.
At this point, awesome bloke Adam Gilchrist played his role in the partnership by finding the single required to hand strike back to Waugh, setting up a final ball so juicy that it belonged in an orchard.
As palms sweated, English captain Nasser Hussain came to the party by playing the panto villain, wasting time with multiple conferences before setting a ring field with only one thing in mind – to be the bastard who spoiled the show.
While waiting for the opposition skipper, Waugh’s mind raced with the possibility of overnight tension – a dinner wasted, a sleepless night, the poor standard of midnight movies – and this was enough for him to decide that whatever was tossed up would be given the kitchen sink.
As Dawson moved in, the atmosphere in the arena was tropically thick, and then deathly silent at the point of release. Slow motion, the epicentre and all that jazz.
The offie’s delivery was right in the Waugh wheelhouse, so he sashayed down the wicket and slapped that thing to the fence to bring up a century that should have been made in to a silver screen blockbuster already. The crowd was one big rapturous heave of adulation, Hohns had what he wanted, and the skipper was saved.
Despite it being only Day 2, the dressing sheds were packed with family and dignitaries at the close of play. Not only had Waugh fenced-off retirement for the time being, he had also passed 10,000 Test runs when he reached 69 as well as equaling Sir Don’s mark of 29 centuries with the final ball of the day, so naturally, John Howard was required.
As for the rest of the match, it wasn’t much chop. Waugh was dismissed on his overnight score with the second ball of the following day and Australia went on to lose the match. So let’s not talk about it.
This match will be always be remembered for the right reasons: a career saved, a crowd thrilled and the sale of a billion memorabilia DVDs. Hazah to the Iceman!
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