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Geoff Lemon's Ashes Diary: Welcome to Pissweak World

Umpires have always made errors, but they're only human. (Image: AP)
Expert
13th August, 2013
118
2795 Reads

Can I just reprint my column from yesterday? Then, I said Ryan Harris’ Test teammates had let him down. Today, they collectively whipped him with rolled-up towels.

That was the most disheartening day of Test cricket I’ve seen from this side. I sat at the MCG as they were routed for 98 against England. I commentated the floggings on their recent Indian tour for Roar Radio.

I didn’t see the 47 against South Africa, but given the position in the match, only that could have been as bitterly disappointing as this limp performance.

Two down in the Ashes, still in with a chance for a series draw, Australia had twice let England off the hook in this match already.

Having recovered to such a strong position in their fourth-innings run chase that England fans had almost given up, Australia surrendered in a manner so abject and abrupt that even the French would have been embarrassed.

The sign above the visiting dressing room should now be changed to Pissweak World – where every week is pissweak.

Nine wickets fell in an elongated evening session to end the match on the fourth day. The final eight fell for 56 runs, including most of the top order in a massacre of five for 13.

Normally I counsel calm in the face of sporting misfortune, but in this case Australia’s batsmen deserve whatever they get.

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Only David Warner and Chris Rogers can hold their heads up, after their dynamic and positive opening partnership put their side well ahead.

Before the chase began, of course we knew 299 was a tall order. Chases over 300 are rare in Test history.

But Warner and Rogers suddenly made it seem easy. Well, sort of. Rogers carbon-copied his first innings, overturning an incorrect dismissal on review and having a catch dropped.

But he stuck around, while Warner played his most assured innings in months, repeatedly punching through the covers off the back foot. Rogers began to open up too, with some gorgeous boundaries, while Warner essayed the faintest of half-skips to lift Graeme Swann over long off for six.

The 50 came up in 13 overs, the 100 in the 27th. Warner reached a half century himself, and the partnership 109, before Rogers edged Swann to slip for 49. It meant he’d contributed 159 for the match.

There is a joy to watching Warner bat well that makes me forgive many of the sins others perceive. The satisfying clunk of his shots. The economical movement, the immense power he imparts from forearms like lamb roasts.

Boo him, heckle him, admonish him in your newspapers: Warner is cricket’s honey badger. He don’t give a toss.

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Even his quiet back-foot pushes speed to the rope. This afternoon, there was no false stroke. Everything was controlled. It thrilled in an entirely unquantifiable way, the sense of a perfectly working machine.

With Warner motoring in such fashion, even Khawaja’s dismissal didn’t clutter the Autobahn. Clarke played a few good strokes, and in no time the score was 2/168. Warner was 71, and that maddening feeling of hope stirred in the chest.

They could actually do this, you thought. 130-odd to get now, that’s all. Eight wickets in hand. The captain and the BMW in tandem operation.

And then we watched it… well, not so much unravel, unless a woollen jumper coming apart also involved fire and explosions and lamenting. No, wait. It wasn’t even that dramatic. It was like a sinkhole just opened up and swallowed Australia whole.

The pitch was playing reasonably, and Ian Bell had shown it rewarded the virtues of patience and a straight bat. From the best seats in the house, none of the following batsmen had been watching.

My article of protest yesterday was about Australia wasting their bowlers’ performance on the first day, then Chris Rogers’ century on the second, by failing to build an adequate first-innings total.

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There too it was a lack of even contribution, leaving two batsmen to do the work. Another 60 scrapped out in that innings might have changed the chemistry of the match.

This morning they did it again, after two ripsnorters from Harris smashed the stumps of first the centurion Bell, then the dangerous Matt Prior first ball.

With England’s lead at just 213, the last three partnerships were allowed to smash the ball around, with edges missed and catches dropped, adding a further 85 runs.

How important those would be in the final analysis.

Harris had been the man to keep Australia in it when Bell looked like completely taking it away. Australia’s rejuvenated fast bowler won vindication for persisting with his Test career, taking his best haul of 7/117.

He was aggressive, uncompromising, and entirely admirable. Along with Rogers, two men in this match had hit new heights after Test cricket was supposed to have passed them by.

In this light, the final capitulation by their teammates was the most galling of all.

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Here was the match, waiting to be won. Here was a side needing 131 with eight wickets in hand – an average contribution of 16 runs per man.

And here was a side that fell 74 short, but had for all intents and purposes lost the match with 117 still required.

It will take a long time to recover from this defeat. Michael Clarke spoke of the importance of The Oval, but his words were hollow. The time of importance was today.

Today, Australia showed that even in winning positions, they will find a way to lose. This kind of humiliation may be the catalyst for an eventually ruthless mentality, but it may just as well be the self-imposed psych-out that cripples the team for years to come.

I’ve always tried to keep a sense of perspective with cricket. I don’t mind struggling. I don’t mind patience. I don’t even mind losing.

I just don’t like being pissweak.

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