Another day another shell-shocked Australian cricketer fronting up, welling up, and speaking up. But unlike Cameron Bancroft and Steve Smith before him, David Warner did not walk out of his televised mea culpa on the road to redemption. He left too many questions unanswered and, thanks to Cricket Australia’s handling of the event, there were too many questions unasked.
Warner’s contrition manifested as a slow-moving teardrop that descended while he struggled to explain the effect this mess was having on his family. But where the tears of Smith and Bancroft acted like a balm, soothing the hysteria of recent days, Warner’s did not. To achieve a similar result the presumed architect of the misdeed was required to provide answers, to explain, to convince sceptics that all the dirty laundry of this episode had been aired, to allow the healing to begin unencumbered. He failed to do so, presenting a straighter bat than at any point in his international career and allowing an egregious number of enquiries to sail through to the keeper.
In response to necessary and expected questions about the knowledge of other teammates in the botched scam, any previous use of ball-tampering and his own leadership role in the affair, Warner simply repeated the mantra that he was taking “full responsibility for my actions for the part that I played in what happened on day three in Newlands in Cape Town”. Nothing more, nothing less. It was a line first uttered in a pre-prepared statement. When it was rolled out mechanically for the umpteenth time 10 minutes later it carried little weight.
Warner was allowed to dodge and weave his way through an unsatisfying series of exchanges by his non-striker Malcolm Conn, the Cricket Australia representative in charge of proceedings. The Walkley award-winning former newshound did his old profession no favours by shutting down follow-up questions and restricting attendees to one enquiry each. The result benefited nobody. Warner left looking evasive, Cricket Australia insincere, all while their constituents remain in the dark. Such a poorly orchestrated set-piece only prolongs the misery.
Warner later tweeted that he acknowledged there were “unanswered questions and lots of them … But there is a formal CA process to follow” (Warner, Smith and Bancroft have until Tuesday to decide if they want a hearing before an independent commissioner). He added that he was “taking advice to make sure I properly comply with that process and answer all questions in the proper place and at the proper time”.
1/3 I know there are unanswered questions and lots of them. I completely understand. In time i will do my best to answer them all. But there is a formal CA process to follow.
— David Warner (@davidwarner31) March 31, 2018
If Warner was not forthcoming about the incident dominating front and back pages across the country, he was marginally more revealing about his own future. “In the back of my mind I suppose there is a tiny ray of hope that I may one day be given the privilege of playing for my country again,” he said, “but I am resigned to the fact that that may never happen.”
On the subject of retirement: “That’s something that I will continue to sit down with my family and weigh up all my considerations before I make any decisions.”
When he made his debut for Australia as a 22-year-old in 2009, Warner was ahead of his time. Despite lacking a first-class run, his power game was the prototype for the future of cricket. The 89 he bludgeoned at the MCG at a strike-rate of 207 came against an attack featuring Dale Steyn, Makhaya Ntini and Jacques Kallis. He turned hit and giggle into shock and awe.
When he ascended to his career peak between 2015 and 2017, Warner epitomised his time. In two of those three years he was the leading run-scorer in the Indian Premier League, averaged 50 as an opener in Tests, and laid Australia’s foundation as they trounced New Zealand in the World Cup final.
Now, caught in the eye of a storm that has unstitched Australian cricket, his time at the top of the game may well be up.
