Peter Siddle is back and as effective as ever
It was fitting that the Australian paceman held his nerve and picked up the runs that carried Australia to their 2-0 series victory in Adelaide, because it was his calm-headedness and reliability that lent the home side a greater sense of calm in this game. Early in the series, Mitchell Starc’s swift rise to attack leader and the status of Australia’s most precious bowling asset had left pre-retirement Mitchell Johnson in a strange nowheresville between his previous job of short-burst strike bowler and the varied, perhaps even more demanding role of stock bowler.
You sort of scratch your head to consider it, but Siddle had in some quarters been written off as recently as the middle stages of Australia’s winter Ashes tour, but his sparkling six-wicket showing in the final Test of that series highlighted that he still offered far better than stop-gap services and so it has proven again. Tellingly, it transpired over the course of this Adelaide Test that had 12th man James Pattinson played, it would have been Josh Hazlewood and not Siddle who missed out, a philosophy vindicated by the Victorian’s canny “partnership” bowling in the first innings, where he was back to his best, probing away on nagging line and tying one end down to apply the pressure that brought wickets at the other.
If Siddle has in effect replaced Johnson, in doing so he’s also gone closer than alternatives would to filling the void left by Ryan Harris, a seemingly irreplaceable bowler whose genius was to attack and contain simultaneously. Not long ago there were doubts that Siddle would get the chance to reach his 200-wicket milestone in Tests, but a week past his 31st birthday and boasting the kind of durability and veteran nous lacking in most rivals for his job, he’s actually looking good for something closer to 300.
We’re not entering a new age of superstar batsmen, it’s already here
If the Ashes omnibus of the last three years became a little tedious, there was at least the consolation for fans of seeing both Joe Root and Steve Smith emerge as wondrous, series-shaping batsmen playing innings of epic scale and virtuosity. They, along with AB de Villiers, Hashim Amla and Virat Kohli, form a group of batting superstars whose rise has been pleasing not only in and of itself, but for the fact that it’s provided such a compelling follow-up to what was an imposing generation to follow; the peerless class of Sachin Tendulkar, Ricky Ponting, Jacques Kallis, Rahul Dravid and Kumar Sangakkara.
Smith didn’t have it all his way in this New Zealand series and neither might he beyond the upcoming West Indies engagement, when the dual-rigours of being both captain and his side’s most important batsman start to weigh more heavily, but as far as failures go, 281 series runs at 46.83 tell you the kind of bar he’s set. Instead it was the less heralded member of Test batting’s new guard of superstars, New Zealand linchpin Kane Williamson, who burnished his reputation most dramatically, compiling 428 series runs at 85.60 and treating fans to sixteen-and-a-half hours of classical batting across the three Tests.
Where Williamson differs from the other modern greats is in his lack of flourish and fuss. In contrast with the crazed bat windmills and contrived, corporate-backed celebration routines of his contemporaries, there’s an endearingly subtle, almost apologetic wave of the bat to signal each Williamson milestone. Usually he’s too busy steeling himself for the next one.
If there’s an enduring image from this series from New Zealand’s perspective, it’s probably their No3 pressing forward onto the front foot and sending what seems like nothing more than a defensive prod racing away to the ropes at deep extra cover. Williamson is ambidextrous, which translates well to this switch-hitting, innovative age of batting, but his greatest virtue has been boiling down stroke-making to the most essential and nourishing ingredients, ones that will ensure he’ll keep piling up hundreds against all opposition.
The pink ball faces sterner tests than this
For all our enthusiastic frothing about the madcap brilliance of the maiden day-night Test, it’s probably worth sounding a few notes of caution about the rip-roaring success of cricket’s latest innovation. Adelaide provided the perfect sell for Cricket Australia and a perfect storm of local attributes that might be tougher to recreate in other Test match cities; a loyal pre-existing attendance base of fans who still would have attended the game if the ball was made of rope and bats from fence palings; two sides stacked with swing-bowling superstars and dynamic batsmen and no rival-code competition for local free-to-air TV viewership.
The ball itself held up well – not unexpectedly given that the pitch had approximately the same grass coverage as the outfields of the previous two Test venues – but on abrasive surfaces and in different climates it may not fare as well. A host of other philosophical challenges await; what happens when a player is inevitably hit in the twilight period where visibility is at its worst? Does playing Tests at night make any difference in countries where fans are still priced out of stadiums and even watching on TV regardless? We’re on a high now, but these and many more questions will soon beg answering.
David Warner might not be a changed man but he’s a changed batsman
It’s easy to be cynical about David Warner’s PR reinvention of the past 12 months, from opponent-boxing pest to chilled-out entertainer and daggy dad. But runs remain his most compelling currency and this was the series in which we saw his most dramatic batting gear change of all, from the top-order tornado who could be banked on to run out of steam to a super-lean, super-keen purveyor of marathon “daddy hundreds”.
Going into this series Warner had never lasted more than 174 deliveries in a Test innings – not a capital offence while his average hovered in the mid-40s but regrettable given the implications of him hanging around any longer. Fitter, more focused and seemingly further evolved in both technique and at-crease temperament, he faced 224, 113 and 286 deliveries in his first three Test knocks of the summer, figures of far greater significance even than the 532 runs that came as a result.
In Warner’s case it also matters less that the runs were gathered on flat tracks because his greatest battle has always been with his own batting psyche. Having subdued certain base instincts, with heart-settling singles now so often taken after crunching boundaries, he looks an even scarier prospect for Test bowling attacks.
Variety is the spice of life
Notwithstanding the drastically overplayed crowd debate after the one-sided, family-unfriendly Brisbane Test (that game still drew a record crowd for a trans-Tasman encounter at the Gabba, remember) this series highlighted the trick that administrators have missed in turning the ICC Future Tours program into an endless three-way between India, Australia and England – the benefit of having some variety in your product range. Here we had a fascinating but largely dormant rivalry brought out of mothballs, and it was compelling for the sheer novelty of fresh and underexposed group dynamics.
As cricket fans we mostly have to accept being served up regular helpings of seven-game-ODI-series flavoured gruel so that the rich may become richer and the poor be thrown the odd scrap, but we can also send a message that we want more cricket like this trans-Tasman series. Disappearing inside its splendour almost makes you forget that the return bout across the ditch next February comes with the most infuriating competitive parameters in cricket; the two-Test series.
