There he goes. Off the ground after a Test innings for the last time. Lost in annoyance at being trapped lbw until more than halfway off, seemingly remembering at that point why there was so much more applause than would normally greet an innings of 57. Pulling upright, spreading his arms to the crowd, turning a full circle as if to take them all in an embrace. There he is afterwards, those lovely post-combat moments on the ground where players’ kids outnumber the players, small figures rolling on the turf or cloaking themselves in streamers, lit up in sunbeams. David Warner chats with his small daughters in between honouring every interview request, happy to keep speaking: retired, but never retiring.
Plenty of people will be glad to see him gone. That attitude is far more prevalent than was represented in the media fete of his final Test series. Few Australian players have drawn as much dislike in their own country. But there was also a crowd eager for the chance to applaud him on to the field to bat, something they had four chances to do across the days and sessions of his final match. In large parts of this audience Warner is forgiven, or at least they recognised that the moment was greater and more distinct than a vague and lingering personal animus.
