Novelty was nice, now day-night Tests need normality

If acceptance is a significant step on the path to success, then day-night Test cricket is halfway there.

And if a dousing of the noise generated by those who chose the glass-half-empty approach signifies a turning of the tide then what was served up at the Gabba could well be seen as a watershed moment in the format’s evolution.

A scintillating contest, with plenty of ebb and flow, significant individual contributions and a tense finale is generally desired – though not always achievable for obvious reasons – and should be savoured when it does indeed show its face.

With the Big Bash waiting for the curtain to be raised, it was the ideal time for Test cricket to raise its hand to signify a continued presence. And as it was the next stage in the extended trial of the floodlit genre, all in all it was a resounding triumph.

Even more so, given the inclusion of an Ashes Test next year, which could well have hit the buffers if tradition and English conservatism had been allowed to win the day.

Watching from a distance, the most striking aspect of Australia’s narrow victory was the near absence of grumbling.

Barely a mumble about the pitch and its covering, or otherwise, of grass.

Hardly a whisper about the durability and visibility of the ball.

Scarcely a word about the twilight period and its perceived perils for batsmen.

And few, if any, asides about it not really being Test cricket.

Just a good, old-fashioned (if I may be so bold), up-and-down, back-and-forth game of cricket, which could rightfully stand comparison to many a game of years gone by.

Don’t think that everybody is now a convert, as old habits die hard, but when you can’t preach to the whole, the majority is not too bad a substitute.

A brand new concept, especially when it’s reinventing the wheel as opposed to starting from scratch, will generally do well initially because of its novelty value.

Cricket with a white ball, cricket under lights and 20-over cricket all attracted significant attention when they first appeared because they hadn’t been seen before.

Turning up to play at Leicestershire’s Grace Road, a ground where the proverbial two men and dog meant a bumper attendance, to see the place bursting at the seams for an evening Twenty20 thrash was to witness novelty in all its splendid value.

To see the same ground half full a few years later for a similar fixture showed how consumer retention is harder than it looks.

This is the challenge day-night Test cricket faces, and those who may ordinarily lean towards self-congratulation should perhaps hold off for a while, but if the product is to gain traction in a marketplace seemingly intent on squeezing it to the margins, then integrity has to win out.

The shortest format, with its limited time frame, already had a foot in the door and its continued popularity, while attributable to myriad reasons, is proof of that. This only adds emphasis to the need for the pink-ball game to harness the age-old elements that have enabled Test cricket to survive for so long.

Hence, the fact the Gabba was a perfectly ‘normal’ outing shouldn’t be overlooked.

If you batted well you had a chance to prosper and the same was true if, as a bowler, you bent your back and stayed true to what normally works.

No undue assistance from the groundstaff, no artificial advantage of twilight and scores that won’t look amiss in the record books.

For all the good generated by the two Adelaide matches, more variety was needed if the experiment was to continue its upward track.

Where that leaves the sport is exactly where it needs to be.

The more people are talking about it the better. And, rather ironically, the opposite is also true.