And so it was. On a typically bleak British summer’s day after two solid years of an insufferably elongated, combined Ashes series – that was all that was written.
An anti-climactic, fragmented final day of the fifth Test wound down to its inevitable conclusion. A somewhat symbolic, crushing victory awarded to Australia in an otherwise meaningless match.
It was an apt embodiment of a series that fluctuated in fortunes more than the average kitchen light. A tribute Michael Clarke deserved, Chris Rogers too. But ultimately it was an unfulfilling result – a triumphant battle in an utterly dispiriting war.
It was a sentiment portrayed by the Australians in a somewhat nauseating post-match celebration. Arms crossed, shoulders hunched, indomitable expressions on faces. The reaction of an unimpressed Under-10’s football coach on a winter’s Saturday morning.
In retrospect it was less a heroic mission and more a learning curve, not least for the players but the selectors and coaching staff alike.
Peter Siddle’s superlative performance added fuel straight out of Shane Warne’s contradictory, yet ever opinionated jerry-can onto Rod Marsh’s largely self-inflicted inferno of selection faux pas. One can only wonder what Siddle’s earlier inclusion and inherent accuracy may have implied for the distinctly insipid team performances of the series, but absolutely the result.
Or for that matter the burgeoning talent of Mitchell Marsh, had he played at Trent Bridge.
These inevitable excuses are a comforting, unreasonable narrative for a parallax universe. The facts of these timeless, enduring series are that in 2013 England steamrolled Australia in England before being hammered themselves three months later on the return leg. Two years on, winning the precious Urn back again in the most frenetic, truncated, non-sensical set of circumstances is the antithesis of the storied history of the Ashes.
It was a series where each side rolled over in the morbid manner of an insect reacting to fumigation – all at the very sight of the opposition asserting any form of dominance or superiority.
A quaint nuance that has substantiated is that all five Tests of the 2015 Ashes have reflected a microcosm of not just the preceding two oscillating Ashes series, but the axiomatic direction Test cricket has been on the path towards for the last decade. It’s a road it will happily continue on, perhaps with a rendition of ‘Jerusalem’ here or there to break up the travel time.
It was a series of undulating fortunes, players and umpires alike.
Entertaining? Yes. Moments of brilliance? Sure. A classic? It was not.
At the conclusion of iconic sporting events, an unerringly genetic sense of nostalgia almost certainly ensues. But not this time.
The reasoning is simple – it’s Ashes overload. It fries the circuit board of even the most ardent cricket fan. Fifteen Tests against the same opponent in a two-year span progresses exclusively from familiarity to boredom. There’s a reason why there is only one Masters Golf Tournament per year and that the FIFA World Cup runs quadrennially.
An all too intimate knowledge of the opposition breeds contempt, no matter how lucrative the market is.
It is the reason why Alastair Cook wasn’t really phased when England were thrashed at Lord’s and the Oval – the same logic extending to Australia’s triumvirate of beltings at Cardiff, Edgbaston and Trent Bridge.
In a scheduling fixture as congested as the present, the underlying notion is that there will always be another shot at redemption. Another chance to improve. Another time exactly like, well, uh, erm, the present?
Following the final instalment of the fourth Test, Joe Root donned a plastic Bob Willis face mask in the celebrations, in a comedic ridiculing of the former England bowler’s opinion of the side. Root was most certainly caught up in the moment, but an undercurrent of tediousness existed.
Conversely, the timing of Clarke’s retirement announcement was the coalescence of a sustained period of poor form with the bat, unintelligent captaincy and a lost series (perhaps commentary was calling too). It was also the quintessence of the very image Clarke has conveyed since his credentialed career began a decade ago – an insouciant reaction to the wider happenings that was often misconstrued as arrogance, not least by former teammates.
The proof is in the pudding. Both Root and Clarke itemised their reactions based on familiarity, on boredom. They were fed up.
‘Perhaps, the show will roll in to town once more,’ they might have reasoned. ‘Careers will blossom, others will decay,’ they may have thought.
All the time, the unstoppable commercialism at the epicentre of a series hell-bent on prolonging its sanctity almost simultaneously erupted in euphoria at a record ratings summer.
In the past 24 months, 15 ashes Tests have taken place. It’s a stark contrast to the grand total of contests in Test cricket between the two nations for the next 27 months – amounting to zero. Nought. Nada. They will not play again until November 2017.
It’s a refreshing change of pace.
So perhaps this break is for the best. Preserving the interest of a generation of fans (while a secondary priority) is the life blood of the Ashes rivalry. If the ethereal nature of the series, its sanctity, is buried for the next two years than it is not only rewarding for England and Australia but for the general cricket world.
In a sport contracting into exclusivity under the weight of gluttonous bureaucrats and administrators, a variety in the opposition is the breath of fresh air Test cricket requires.
Did I mention the next Ashes is only in November 2017? Of course I did – the harrumph of advertising and travelling packages that have already infiltrated the shameless cross promotion of Channel Nine‘s cricket coverage is insufferably unavoidable.
But until that sprightly late Spring day in Brisbane arrives, grass clippings and a fresh breeze filling the air of anticipation that has been created by the Barmy Army for the commencement of the last remaining truly great Test Cricket rivalry;
I can’t wait to wait again.
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