Memorable things happen at three o’clock in the morning. Perhaps you watched the then Conservative defence secretary Michael Portillo climb slowly on to a wooden stage, to be sent into the political wilderness by a returning officer in a ceremonial chain at 3.10am on 2 May 1997. But forget that – were you up for Neil Wagner?
Were you pulling on your second pair of bedsocks on a chilly February night as he thundered in, all big-hearted fury and handyman vibes, at the Basin Reserve? Were you wrapping your hands round a cup of tea with your ear against the radio? Were you out of bed, in the living room, perched on the edge of the sofa, alone but very much part of the band of brothers and sisters who pepper their days – and their nights – by following Test cricket?
England’s digit of doom came from an official in black trousers and an umpire’s coat – and much as there was disappointment that Bazball’s remarkable run of six consecutive Test wins had come to a halt; there was a pinch-yourself glee at watching the conclusion of one of the closest Tests of all.
New Zealand’s one-run victory – matching only West Indies’ triumph against Australia at Adelaide in 1993 – was just the fourth time a team have won after following on. Not that any of it mattered as Wagner charged about the field like a man pumped with a heady mix of relief and adrenalin, with a hearty dose of vindication on the side, after previously being mauled by England’s attack laboratory.
The day, like the Test, had swung this way and that. First the early wickets of the overnight men in possession, Ben Duckett and Ollie Robinson, then the wicket of the jittery Ollie Pope – whose brief stay at the crease had felt set with bear traps at every angle. The cartoon runout of Harry Brook – without facing a ball – could be placed firmly at the door of Joe Root, who looked suitably chastised as Brook took off from the non-striker’s end and carried on running straight back to the dressing room. But a mortified Root is a dangerous Root and, as he cover drove like the king praline truffle in a box of expensive chocolates, it felt like destiny that he would atone for the sins of his hasty single.
Alongside him, his limping captain, knee locking as he attempted to hoist Michael Bracewell out of the ground, moving around the crease with all the grace of a Friesian in a muddy field. But Stokes and Root would do it – wouldn’t they? Bazball has made these things look easy, a chase of 250 in a day? Easy pickings.
New Zealand, not long the world Test champions, had other plans. As England crept past 200, Stokes had a mad flail at Wagner. A run later and Root too had gone, for 95, another victim of the Wagner bumper barrage. Ben Foakes kept things chugging along but Wagner was everywhere, catching both Stuart Broad and finally Foakes, to leave the last pair to get seven runs. It was not to be, New Zealand got their barest-of-margins revenge, and on Ian Smith’s birthday too.
As Jimmy Anderson hung his head on the field, and mouthed angry words, Stokes and Brendon McCullum strode out on to the beautiful Wellington pitch, grinning. It was a loss – but it was a win. Test cricket – when it is like this – what can beat it?
And the beauty of the whole damn thing is you don’t have to have paid to travel, or to have bought a ticket to the ground, to feel fully immersed in the experience. I still remember vividly India’s victory against Australia at Eden Gardens in March 2001 after following on – VVS Laxman and all that – even though I followed most of it on Ceefax. The number of people who claim to have been at Headingley in July 1981 to watch Bob Willis run through Australia could fill the ground 10 times – but, such was the visceral thrill of listening to the climax, people feel as if they were really there.
Test cricket was a different country when England beat Australia by two runs at Edgbaston in 2005. It was a golden summer, when the whole country became consumed by the Ashes – when you walked past open car windows to hear Test Match Special on the radio, and televisions in pubs and shops were tuned to Channel 4’s coverage. The denouement was very similar to early Tuesday morning, a short ball – this time from Steve Harmison –nudged or gloved, depending on your sensitivities, down to Geraint Jones behind the stumps.
I like to think my one-year-old understood as I danced around the living room. The image of Andrew Flintoff bending down to console a dejected Brett Lee became the backdrop to the summer and the win which levelled the series was more than a win because it injected belief into an England side that had endured years of being under the Australian cosh – much as Stokes has managed to inspire a team that lost an Ashes series 4-0 only just over a year ago. That the loss on Tuesday has brought so much happiness is a reflection of his transformative powers.
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