by Arunabha Sengupta
5 August 2019. Edgbaston.
As he walks out, thousands of self-proclaimed guardians of ‘the gentleman’s game’ sit in the stands, waving ‘sandpaper’ flags and booing.
All the wonderful beer-lathered sentinels of sportsmanship, scandalised at the thought of someone bringing the game into disrepute by tampering with the ball, and then making a reappearance on the grand stage.
“Ball tampering is as old as the game itself, has been practiced since time immemorial, a graphic and humorous description of both the sides indulging in it in the 1921 Ashes finds its place in Arthur Mailey’s 10 for 66 And All That.”
Oh well, cricket fans have never bothered that much with details, too caught up in the hazy mythology they believe to be history. They parrot literal meaning of ‘gentleman’s game’, a phrase that arose from the class divide between privileged amateur gentlemen cricketers and poorly paid exploited professionals.
Besides beer-propelled patriotic-mob-heckling of a fallen hero … that is quite a low hanging fruit made to order.
Moment of reckoning.
His comeback after the the Cape Town incident, after Cricket Australia’s over the top, over-zealous punitive measures, over and above the ICC Code of Conduct clauses, which smacked so much of a white-wash-our-hands cover-up endeavour.
A period of tears, doubts and relentless judgement by all and sundry.
Steve Smith has not slept a wink the previous night. He seldom does before Test matches. Especially this one.
And the circumstances do not help either. 17 for 2 as he walked in, Stuart Broad having dismissed the openers. That includes the first villain of the side—David Warner.
First ball, pitched up, driven to extra cover on first bounce. The crowd claims the catch in unison. They are out for blood.
The next over sees Broad beat him twice. Past the edge.
But then Woakes pitches up. Smith swivels it off the front pad to deep square leg fence. He is off. Broad is sliced through backward point for four more.
23 not out at lunch. Australia 83 for 3.
Then there is a terrible collapse. Five quick wickets after lunch, reducing the visitors to 122 for 8. Broad, Woakes, Stokes … all look threatening. More than that, the Australian batting look brittle. Smith is still there. 42 not out.
And then there is the return of the genius. Unorthodoxy. Smith stays back, looking to work the ball off the stumps, enticing the bowler to abandon plans and bowl full on the sticks. And then hand-eye takes over. Balls sent screaming through the on and leg sides with unerring precision. All the manuals and their evangelists can take a walk.
And if it is short he pulls. Forward or backward of square depending on the field.
The Peter Siddle lends support. Smith is back to doing what he is good at. Scoring run, plenty of them.
He is 85 when Moeen gets Siddle caught at short leg. 210 for 9. Nathan Lyon in.
Smith, however, is in no hurry. But when Moeen pitches full he slams him through mid-wicket, and then he swings him over the cow corner for six.
In the next Stokes over, he bangs one through the covers. That is it. The helmet comes off. The bat is raised. The boos ring out, but are eventually drowned by applause. True discerning fans of the game realise what a splendid cricketing feat this is.
His job is not done though. Smith keeps hitting boundaries, and clear it once more. Last 41 runs gallop through in 25 balls, seven fours and one six—four of those boundaries and a six over mid-wicket off Broad. 144 out of a total of 284, hauling the side from 122 for 8.
And when Broad hits his stump Smith does not wait to enjoy the moment. He sprints out to get England in for the last minutes of the day.
Perhaps ranks with D’Oliveira’s Oval hundred of 1968 as the greatest innings under pressure.
The fairy tale is only about 40% complete. England take a 90-run lead. Smith is in again at 27 for 2 and hits 142. Victory for Australia by 251 runs.
The thousands who came to abuse end up applauding. Perhaps the greatest comeback in the history of the game.