The sight of Ricky Ponting and Michael Clarke in full flight at the crease was significant in so many ways, even for an English cricket fan, says Ed Kemp.
Just a few years ago you wouldn’t have got much sentiment from a cricket follower on these shores over Australian players and their fortunes. Too many bad memories and fresh wounds. Too much pain. It’s tempting sometimes to think you’d enjoy watching the Aussies fall into terminal decline, to rejoice in their humiliating second innings 47 in Cape Town and to lament their growing recovery. But cricket needs Australia, and England being No.1 in the world would be most fun if Australia were No.2 – and if the Ashes really was the shootout for world supremacy that we all crave.
So Ponting and Clarke’s partnership at the SCG against India was more than just statistically formidable and ruthlessly executed – it was a pivotal moment for two cricketers, a nation’s supporters and the cricket world’s ever-more curious onlookers.
From the start of the second morning the captain and his predecessor were positive, in footwork and shot selection, but importantly in body language too. Clarke had been gradually marking his authority on the Aussie captaincy with match-defining knocks on the tours to Sri Lanka and South Africa, but went to Sydney in a mini-slump after three Tests without runs and with last winter’s Ashes lockout still fresh in Australians’ minds. Acceptance and “respect from the Australian public” – as he would say after completing his maiden triple-century on day three – has always been Clarke’s primary objective ever since the dashing, tattoed youngster with the TV girl on his arm first emerged, flashily, to update the image of Australian batsmen.
He took the job under a cloud of failure, at the fag-end of that botched Ashes series. But since then his batting and leadership of a developing, transitional and intriguingly rocky side has impressed more so with every match. At Sydney he seized a big opportunity to prove himself as Australia’s leader – a worthy, modern successor to Border, Taylor, Waugh and, of course, Ricky Ponting.
As much as Clarke’s unbeaten triple-century stole the headlines, backed by his canny decision to pass up the chance to haul in Bradman’s and Taylor’s highest Test score – an act that will do wonders for his reputation as well as his team’s chances of victory here – it was Punter’s knock that most stirred the soul. The sight of the scarred old warhorse stepping muddied off the turf to celebrate the most long-awaited of his 40 Test centuries must have tugged the ticker-strings of even the most fervent anti-Aussie. This giant of the game is not quite the player he once was, but he remains possessed of a concrete cricketing heart.
It’s only since chinks in the Tasmanian’s armour emerged – and, perhaps, since England started beating the sides he captained – that it’s been possible to truly sympathise with Ponting. But over the last year or so, the former runscoring superman has looked nothing more than human at the crease, and it’s endeared him to a new quarter of the cricket world. A great player and a great cricket man, struggling for once, like the rest of us, against technique and the march of time. And in his last few Tests, secretly at least, we’ve all been rooting for him.
Although the trademark strut and bluster initially survived a spell of poor form, Ponting had struggled for so long that latterly he looked a shadow of himself. The pull shot particularly – once such a trademark of his dominance – he just can’t play like he used to, and he kept getting hit. Every batsman takes the occasional tap on the grille, like Ponting himself did in 2005 (remember the plaster on the cheek?) but he’s started to take regular blows in the last few months. But still he refuses to put the pull shot away, although his continued attempts are perhaps as much a mark of an instinctive technique as of bravery and self-belief. But the realisation that he no longer had all his old shots, the successive blows and low scores, had made him look a smaller figure at the wicket – even, dare one say it of the old beast, a touch timid.
So to see him march out on that second morning alongside Clarke, strutting purposefully, striding out at the ball once more, was a pleasure. He is no longer the devastating shotmaker who in 2006 and 2007 hit seven tons in 14 matches at more than 76, but he is still one of the greats – Australia’s post-war best. And, after years of admiring (through the gaps between our fingers) his seemingly unimaginable gifts, we should now salute his resilience in adversity, and his enduring love for a game which had started to turn on him.
No one’s saying he’s back for good. The Ashes in 2013 still seems a long way off. But here at Sydney, he has added another layer to the Ponting story. After scampering and diving to complete a single to reach his hundred, he hauled himself up, covered in dirt, spat the dust from his mouth and smiled like a kid. Clarke congratulated him, and the Aussies marched to another commanding position. It was an important moment for Ponting and for Australian cricket, which looks to be in revival. The game would be the poorer without either of them.
Why We Should Enjoy Australia’s Guns Firing
The sight of Ricky Ponting and Michael Clarke in full flight at the crease was significant in so many ways, even for an English cricket fan, says Ed Kemp.
Just a few years ago you wouldn’t have got much sentiment from a cricket follower on these shores over Australian players and their fortunes. Too many bad memories and fresh wounds. Too much pain. It’s tempting sometimes to think you’d enjoy watching the Aussies fall into terminal decline, to rejoice in their humiliating second innings 47 in Cape Town and to lament their growing recovery. But cricket needs Australia, and England being No.1 in the world would be most fun if Australia were No.2 – and if the Ashes really was the shootout for world supremacy that we all crave.
So Ponting and Clarke’s partnership at the SCG against India was more than just statistically formidable and ruthlessly executed – it was a pivotal moment for two cricketers, a nation’s supporters and the cricket world’s ever-more curious onlookers.
From the start of the second morning the captain and his predecessor were positive, in footwork and shot selection, but importantly in body language too. Clarke had been gradually marking his authority on the Aussie captaincy with match-defining knocks on the tours to Sri Lanka and South Africa, but went to Sydney in a mini-slump after three Tests without runs and with last winter’s Ashes lockout still fresh in Australians’ minds. Acceptance and “respect from the Australian public” – as he would say after completing his maiden triple-century on day three – has always been Clarke’s primary objective ever since the dashing, tattoed youngster with the TV girl on his arm first emerged, flashily, to update the image of Australian batsmen.
He took the job under a cloud of failure, at the fag-end of that botched Ashes series. But since then his batting and leadership of a developing, transitional and intriguingly rocky side has impressed more so with every match. At Sydney he seized a big opportunity to prove himself as Australia’s leader – a worthy, modern successor to Border, Taylor, Waugh and, of course, Ricky Ponting.
As much as Clarke’s unbeaten triple-century stole the headlines, backed by his canny decision to pass up the chance to haul in Bradman’s and Taylor’s highest Test score – an act that will do wonders for his reputation as well as his team’s chances of victory here – it was Punter’s knock that most stirred the soul. The sight of the scarred old warhorse stepping muddied off the turf to celebrate the most long-awaited of his 40 Test centuries must have tugged the ticker-strings of even the most fervent anti-Aussie. This giant of the game is not quite the player he once was, but he remains possessed of a concrete cricketing heart.
It’s only since chinks in the Tasmanian’s armour emerged – and, perhaps, since England started beating the sides he captained – that it’s been possible to truly sympathise with Ponting. But over the last year or so, the former runscoring superman has looked nothing more than human at the crease, and it’s endeared him to a new quarter of the cricket world. A great player and a great cricket man, struggling for once, like the rest of us, against technique and the march of time. And in his last few Tests, secretly at least, we’ve all been rooting for him.
Although the trademark strut and bluster initially survived a spell of poor form, Ponting had struggled for so long that latterly he looked a shadow of himself. The pull shot particularly – once such a trademark of his dominance – he just can’t play like he used to, and he kept getting hit. Every batsman takes the occasional tap on the grille, like Ponting himself did in 2005 (remember the plaster on the cheek?) but he’s started to take regular blows in the last few months. But still he refuses to put the pull shot away, although his continued attempts are perhaps as much a mark of an instinctive technique as of bravery and self-belief. But the realisation that he no longer had all his old shots, the successive blows and low scores, had made him look a smaller figure at the wicket – even, dare one say it of the old beast, a touch timid.
So to see him march out on that second morning alongside Clarke, strutting purposefully, striding out at the ball once more, was a pleasure. He is no longer the devastating shotmaker who in 2006 and 2007 hit seven tons in 14 matches at more than 76, but he is still one of the greats – Australia’s post-war best. And, after years of admiring (through the gaps between our fingers) his seemingly unimaginable gifts, we should now salute his resilience in adversity, and his enduring love for a game which had started to turn on him.
No one’s saying he’s back for good. The Ashes in 2013 still seems a long way off. But here at Sydney, he has added another layer to the Ponting story. After scampering and diving to complete a single to reach his hundred, he hauled himself up, covered in dirt, spat the dust from his mouth and smiled like a kid. Clarke congratulated him, and the Aussies marched to another commanding position. It was an important moment for Ponting and for Australian cricket, which looks to be in revival. The game would be the poorer without either of them.