An hour before the start of play a small band of protesters gathered outside the Hobbs Gates. They were led by the two men who have made the documentary Death of a Gentleman, and they had come to complain about the way the ICC is running, perhaps ruining, the sport.
They gathered around a funereal flower display, had a trumpeter play the last post and held a three-minute silence or more of a three-minute hush, fittingly enough, as it was accompanied by noises off. The babbling crowd shuffled through into the ground, all excited about what they were on their way to see, and to the sound of a rival demonstration. One woman had come to protest against Alastair Cook, not against his captaincy but that he is cruel to animals – and not kangaroos. Rather she was upset he had once shot a deer.
“Deer don’t want to die,” she said through a megaphone. “How would you feel if you were shot by Alastair Cook while you were minding your own business?” Surprised, I should think. She must have been worried that the loudspeaker and the sandwich board were not conspicuous enough, so had come dressed as a deer herself And even so, no one paid her much mind, since she was so polite and softly spoken. In 2013, when Sri Lanka were over, a dozen or so Tamil protesters had occupied this same spot. They stayed all day, singing, chanting, hollering.
The deer lady did not last that long. Nor did the Test protesters. They finished up with an uncertain sort of round of applause. And then by 10 past 10 they had all made way, many of them moseying on inside to enjoy the Test.
Unusual start as it was to a match, it all felt very English, in its own understated way, as has so much of the Ashes summer. The Australians, reared in a hostile climate, on hard, fast pitches against venomous bowling, have been utterly incapable of adjusting to the modest demands of English conditions.
There were drizzle and damp, seam and swing, some straight and steady bowling, the ball moving just a touch off the green grass strip and a little gentle off-spin from Moeen Ali. There was nothing much macho about it and little that could not be overcome through the application of those two very English qualities of patience and perseverance. Keep calm and carry on batting.
This was Test cricket as it should be, some would say, sedate and played out to a soundtrack of convivial conversation. In stark contrast to the helter-skelter antics at Edgbaston and Trent Bridge. The Australians had finally seemed to arrive at something approaching “mid-season form”. It was a shame for them they got there only at the end of the summer. At last their batsmen seemed to have learned that the familiar dictums about how to play here are well-worn for a reason and that the best thing to do when opening the batting in the morning is to try to see off the new ball. Especially when the sun is hidden behind grey clouds and last night’s rain drops are still clinging to the railings.
Stuart Broad opened the bowling from around the wicket, just as he had at Trent Bridge. And here, as there, he made the ball move off the seam, though his line was wider and his bowling generally a little less sharp. Where there Chris Rogers and David Warner made the mistake of playing at balls they should have left, here they left everything they could. Rogers watched the first five deliveries fly by, either lifting his bat up and away or dragging it across inside the line. Warner followed suit.
After half an hour they were nine for 0 and after an hour 19 for 0 with Rogers four off 42 balls and Warner 14 off the same number. There was not a boundary between them. The first came six minutes later, a pull through mid-wicket by Warner – 14.3 overs had gone by that point. In the first innings at Trent Bridge they were nine down by then. This was the longest wait for the first four in Tests between the two countries since Perth in 1979. Rogers added another, through cover, later in the same over. It did not feel as if the gentleman was dead – just dozing.
