The Grand Old Game Is Never Be Calmed For Long

The Sunday Age

Sunday December 21, 2008

TIM LANE

ALTHOUGH Mitchell Johnson's explosive performance on Thursday wasn't the panacea for the ills and uncertainties faced by Test cricket, it was an example of what makes the traditional game so compelling. As the shadows lengthened at the WACA Ground on the second day of Australia's opening Test against South Africa, the contest appeared to be tipping slightly the visitors' way. Predictions that Australia's invincibility at home could be threatened by the Proteas looked well founded.

Enter Johnson. In half an hour, he launched himself from developing-solid-citizen to star. It revived memories of the emergence of his mentor, Dennis Lillee, on the same ground in late 1971. That was when Lillee bundled out for 59 a World XI that included Sunil Gavaskar, Garfield Sobers, Clive Lloyd, Rohan Kanhai, Zaheer Abbas and Tony Greig. The star-studded internationals had begun their first innings at the start of day two and were batting a second time before lunch. Lillee took 8-29.

Before that, there had been hope he might give Australian cricket the attacking spearhead it had lacked the previous summer against England. Two scintillating hours in Perth turned hope to faith.

So it was when Jeff Thomson emerged with cyclonic fury in Brisbane three years later, and when Shane Warne knocked over the West Indies on the last day in Melbourne in late 1992. Such is the measured pace of the long game that, on these exceptional days, the excitement begins with no more than a faint stirring, then momentum gathers and, before you know it, cricket has been changed forever.

Traditional cricket is quite different from almost any other sport. There is no doubt that a contest played over 30hours, across five days, encompassing more inactivity than action, is anachronistic within the context of contemporary life. It has been said that the Americans invented baseball as a compact game to fit into their busy lives, while the English upper classes invented cricket to fill their long days of leisure.

These days, much Test cricket around the world is played in stadiums that are almost empty. In Australia, we are lucky. So entrenched is cricket as the summer sport of the nation that Test matches continue to be well attended. Despite there having been endless mismatches throughout Australia's dominance of the past decade-and-a-half, interest remains strong. But the crowds at the grounds represent much less than half the story.

Having attended, in a professional capacity, almost every Test match played in this country from the late 1980s until five years ago, I've found it instructive to renew the experience of following Test cricket from afar. As one who closely followed cricket from childhood, and couldn't believe his good fortune at becoming a regular commentator on the elite-level game, naturally I miss being there. Yet the experience of following a Test match while living the rest of life is also an enjoyable one. It is, after all, how the majority consume the game.

In resuming this form of consumption in recent years, I have recalled the impact Test cricket had on me during boyhood. These days, there is highly sophisticated television coverage, as well as radio, to carry the message, but there is something nostalgically familiar about the experience. A Test match occupies almost a week of one's life. Approximately 15 meals are consumed, various other household and professional activities are undertaken, daily news unfolds, births and deaths occur.

At this time of year one is forced to punctuate attention to the Test match with shopping expeditions, the hurried completion of duties that must be attended to before the business year is done, along with the rest of life's demands. But the game goes on.

Later in the summer, the games will be followed in what is hopefully warmer weather in more relaxed circumstances, at beaches, barbecues and on boats. I recall being on the Derwent River as interviewer for an ABC film on the Sydney-to-Hobart yacht race during an exciting stage of the third Ashes Test in late 1978.

The cricket was far more important to me than the ocean classic and I secretly hoped the weather would becalm the yachts in Storm Bay. My producer was less than impressed, particularly when the race leader came our way and the engine on the ABC boat wouldn't start. Australia collapsed after a promising start, but Rodney Hogg ran through the Poms. Funnily enough, I can't remember which yachties we interviewed.

Then a Test match ends. After five days, particularly when the contest has been engrossing, this can leave a void. I recall the experience in earlier years of finding almost overwhelming the loneliness at the completion of a series. It usually lasted until the teams for the opening round of the footy season appeared in the newspaper.

These days there is so much more sport available, almost 365 days of the year, yet each Test match brings a life of its own to the ones we lead. When something like Johnson's 5-2 from 21 balls happens, the old game, whose future is constantly under question, bursts into life once again.

© 2008 The Sunday Age

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