The Currency of Centuries: Days 2 & 3 of the Second Test

 Scorecard

McCullum makes 302 to save a game that looked like it would be over in three days…Bangladesh lose after making 595 batting first…Sri Lanka lose after leading by 135 on first innings…New Zealand win by one run after following on. All these things have happened at the Basin Reserve in the last decade. It might be thought that we Basin regulars would have come to expect the unexpected, to retain hope to the last that the home team would find a hero who would find a white horse stabled in the RA Vance Stand and ride to the rescue. 

Yet, once Gus Atkinson had finished off the New Zealand first innings with his hat trick it never seemed that the last two days of the match were more than an administrative exercise, devoid of expectation or emotion. 

New Zealand soon gave up making serious attempts to get England’s batters out, leaving it up to Ben Stokes to choose how many New Zealand would be set. This figure turned out to be 583, and even before the second innings subsided to 59 for four there was not a person in the Basin who thought this remotely achievable. 

There were two nineties and two centuries during the phoney wars of the second innings. Hundreds are the gold standard of batting statistics, the accepted measure of true class. Witness the latest round of comparison of Kohli, Root, Smith and Williamson, which has focused more than anything on the number and frequency of three-figure scores. What transpired here questions the integrity of this currency. Are some centuries no more than a crypto scam in terms of what they tell us about the quality of the batting?

Joe Root scored 106, the third international century he has made in Wellington. The first was a run-a-ball 121 against Sri Lanka in the 2015 World Cup at the Cake Tin; the second a sublime unbeaten 153 in the Greatest Test of All at the Basin in 2023. Both were innings of immense quality, of a kind that are a warm, satisfied glow in the memory and leave a feeling of privilege at having been there to see them. 

This one,106 in 130 balls with 11 fours, did not have that status, and will not occupy much space in the memory, even in Root’s. A hundred devalued. Yet in its context it was perfect. It kept the score moving along at five an over, as much by exquisitely placed twos and threes as boundaries. It was not Root’s fault that the bowling was insipid. [As an aside, how we miss Neil Wagner, a man incapable of bowling in any situation without the intention of having ambassadors recalled.] Worth noting too that Root’s century here was the only one of the three to contribute to a win, which must have some sort of impact on the rate of exchange.

Tom Blundell has had a rough time of it lately. In India he broke double figures only once in five innings, and in Christchurch made 17 and nought followed by a scratchy 16 in the first innings here. The quality of his keeping has indicated a lowering of his confidence in general. I would have given one of the in-form keepers in domestic cricket a go here: Chu of Otago, Hay of Canterbury or Cleaver of Central Districts. 

In the second innings he made a hundred and reacted ecstatically to the achievement, as if it was paid out in gold doubloons. Were they the real thing? His 115 came from just 102 deliveries, with 13 fours and five sixes, four of which came off Shoaib Bashir, and with the help of a stiff northerly at Blundell’s back. Would Bashir have continued to bowl if the target had been for 250 fewer than it was? Almost certainly not. This was a work experience opportunity for him.

This century was similar to the one that he made on test debut against a dispirited West Indian attack. He was proud enough of that one to walk home in his batting gear, and so he should have been, just as his reaction to this one was right: it was a hundred in a test match. It secured his place in the team for the final test in Hamilton and quite probably beyond that. Is the money paid by this innings sufficient to buy that much? Or is it counterfeit?

The point should also be made that Blundell’s other three test centuries were made in the toughest of circumstances, at the MCG in the Boxing Day test; in England as New Zealand were being steamrolled by the novelty of Bazball; and last year at Mt Maunganui, one of countless rescue operations he has mounted to save a beleaguered batting performance. 

There were also two second-innings nineties, by Duckett and Bethall. I was glad that Bethall did not get to three figures. This sounds mean, but the intention is the opposite. It was predicted by many that the young Brummie-Bajan would be embarrassed by being pitched in at No 3 on debut. He was anything but, looking assured and proficient both technically and mentally. There will surely be centuries by the sackload to come, and he deserves the first to be glorious, made under the golden sun against top class bowling, not when kicking against a door blown open in a Wellington gale. 

The Plunket Shield begins

Wellington v Auckland, Basin Reserve, 11-14 November 2024

In common with the County Championship in Britain and the Sheffield Shield in Australia, the Plunket Shield bookends the season in New Zealand, four rounds before the shorter forms take over at the height of summer, four more as the leaves turn from green to brown. The difference between my experience at St Lawrence in April and the Basin Reserve in November was about 15 degrees celsius. It was most pleasant in the RA Vance, at least until mid-afternoon when the southerly turned up. I was there only for the first day of the opener between Wellington and Auckland.

The first thing we noticed was the sightscreens, installed at considerable cost, both financial and in terms of the view of play from the Royal Box. That at the southern end was out of action, replaced by something closely resembling an Imax screen, spread out over the grass bank. The screen at the northern end remained functional, though the white sheets attached to the framework flapped about as if they were washing hung on a line. They had not survived 130kph winds a few days before. It had not been thought worth checking the resilience of the screens in these conditions, presumably on the grounds that in Wellington they occur no more than three times a week. 

In preparation for the forthcoming series against England, Devon Conway, Rachin Ravindra and Tom Blundell all made rare appearances in the Wellington XI. All three might have been with the national white-ball team in Sri Lanka, but it was good to see priority given to their well-being and readiness for test cricket. Tim Robinson and Nathan Smith were on international duty in Asia. 

When I arrived, about 40 minutes in, Auckland were 26 for four. It might have been assumed that this was the consequence of an early-season greentop, but Auckland chose to bat after winning the toss on a pitch that was closer to grapefruit than lime in colour. There was a bit of movement, particularly before lunch, but nothing that approached impropriety for a first-day strip. There was extra bounce too, and that accounted for Cam Fletcher in particular. 

At 66 for seven we were reminded of the corresponding opening fixture seven years ago when Auckland were dismissed for 62, Wellington finishing the first day on 246 without loss. An eighth-wicket partnership of 87 between Jacobs and Ashok set aside the possibility of such a catastrophe for the visitors being repeated.

Bevon-John Jacobs is known as BJ, like Watling of that ilk. In common with the former Black Caps wicketkeeper he is South African by birth and a New Zealander by cricketing upbringing. Jacobs was making his first-class debut here, having appeared a few times in the shorter forms for Canterbury. His 75 came in 100 balls, and 58 came in boundaries, including three sixes, with hitting that was clean and judicious. 

For the 46th over, van Beek switched to the northern end, removed the close catchers, spread the fielders* around the boundary and started to dig them in. I was well into a homily on the subject of how foolish this was, and how nobody striking the ball as well as Jacobs could possibly fall for it when he hit the fourth ball of the over straight to deep mid-wicket. Any actor auditioning for the part of Othello and wanting to brush up on the portrayal of remorse would do well to study the video of Jacobs leaving the field at this point. Nevertheless, his innings gave Auckland a veneer of respectability that looked unlikely when he came in. They finished with 184.

Buoyed by our returning internationals, we anticipated a sizeable first-innings lead. What we got was an advantage of 86, to which the three returning heroes contributed 49 between them. Devon Conway chipped in with 36, but the fact that he was sixth out tells you much about the general progress of the innings. 

Conway batted much as he had in India: not looking in great touch, but scoring runs nevertheless. That is one measure of a good batter, I suppose. Rachin Ravindra was largely responsible for New Zealand’s victory in the first test in India, but lost form as the series went on. Here, he was leg before for seven. He left the field pointedly examining the edge of his bat like Thomas Chippendale handling a particularly fine chair leg, but if he had not played across the line it would have been the middle rather than the exterior that connected with the ball, and the question would not have arisen. It was seven more than he managed in the second innings. 

Blundell got six before getting an inside edge to an outswinger, the geometry of which suggests a player a distance from peak form. Some question his place in the test team after a poor time with the bat in south Asia, but his keeping remains proficient and he deserves the England series in home conditions. At the close of the first day, Wellington were 58 in arrears with four wickets left. 

Logan van Beek, with five for 53, was the main reason for Auckland’s low score, and on the second day became the driver of Wellington’s first-innings lead. Overnight, he was unbeaten on 37 from 32 balls, a fairly standard rate of van Beekian progress. In the morning, he was altogether calmer, requiring a further 126 deliveries to reach his century. He put on123 for the eighth wicket with Peter Younghusband. 

Van Beek is a cricketer who makes things happen, one way or the other. He is, I think, the only cricketer to both score and concede 30 or more in an over across first-class, List A and T20 cricket. He plays international cricket for the Netherlands so is currently unavailable to the New Zealand selectors, who would otherwise have him on their radar. This innings demonstrated a pleasing capacity for circumspection. 

The rest I will gloss over as I was not there, but Basin Reserve regulars who were present would want to do the same, given that Wellington blew their advantage to lose by 54 runs. When Auckland were seven down with the lead just 93, it seemed that the points were in the bag, but it was BJ Jacobs who turned things around with his second 70 of the game, though he had been infected with some of van Beek’s caution, as it took him 50 more deliveries than the first one. A name to watch. 

Even so, 232 should have been attainable, but Blundell’s 63 apart, Conway’s 28 was the highest score of the innings. I watched the end of the game on the YouTube feed. Seconds after Blundell left the field ninth out, the microphone on the solitary camera situated right next to the dressing rooms picked up a loud curse followed by one of summer’s most evocative sounds, that of willow on plaster. 

*It occurs to me that “fielder” has gradually taken the place of “fieldsman” in cricket’s vocabulary without any of the faux outrage that surrounds the emergence of “batter”. I have “batter” in my style guide partly because I write about women’s and men’s cricket and like to use the same language about both, but mostly because it annoys disproportionately precisely those who most deserve to be annoyed. I would take their protests more seriously if I had ever heard anybody object to the gender-neutral “bowler”, which I have not, even once, in six decades. 

A Great Test Match: New Zealand v England, 2nd Test, Basin Reserve, 24-28 February 2023

 

Scorecard

As Richie Benaud would have said, “Blundell; Tucker; Anderson the man to go”.

Thus ended the finest test match that most of us have seen, a contest that joins Sydney 1894, Headingley 1981 and Kolkota 2001 as the only test matches to be won by a team following on; and Adelaide 1993 in being won by one run. One match on two of cricket’s most exclusive lists.

I was there (the three best words that anyone can write about a great sporting fixture), for the whole match, but let us focus on the extraordinary fifth day.

It began with England needing 210 more for victory with nine wickets standing, a situation that we New Zealanders would have grabbed thankfully had it been offered a day in advance, but which had become disappointing after the home team lost its last five wickets for 28.

The man out at the end of the fourth day was Zak Crawley, bowled through a gap big enough for a basketball. As a man of Kent I am naturally pleased to see the old club have a presence in the England team, but supporters of every county can propose a player or two who would have averaged more than 27 had they been given 33 tests. I’ll start: Darren Stevens. “James Hildreth” sings out from the Quantocks and the Mendips, and so on.

Ollie Robinson is in the great tradition of Sussex nightwatchmen inspired by Robin Marlar, apocryphally out second ball for six. Robinson took a single off the first ball of the penultimate over of the fourth day, so exposing Duckett, then attempted to put the ball over the Museum Stand before the scheduled close.

It was therefore no surprise when, early on the final day, Robinson scythed one in the air, finding Michael Bracewell under it.

Bracewell had been from triumph to disaster and was now making the return journey. On the first day he took the best slip catch that the Basin has seen in a long time, stretched full length parallel to the ground, collecting the ball in his left hand at the second attempt to dismiss Duckett.

But on the fourth day, Bracewell became a national villain when he was run out after omitting the most basic of cricketing protocols: grounding his bat when completing a run. Only five more were added to the total before New Zealand were all out, which left Bracewell’s face on the wanted poster seeking the man responsible for England’s target being fifty or so fewer than it might have been. What is more, he knew that, as the only spinner in the team, he was carrying a nation’s expectations, despite having been a serious bowler for only a couple of years.

Michael Bracewell had a good day, in the end.

It was when Ben Duckett was out six runs later, flashing at one outside the off stump off Henry, that we took the first tentative shuffle towards the edge of our seats. These days, whenever an English batter gets out to a shot that has not been in the MCC Coaching Book since Gladstone was prime minister, cynics are inclined to point to the moral failings of what, for convenience, we will call Bazball. This despite McCullum being responsible for reviving England’s test team from the frightened, failed state it was in less than a year ago. In fact, England’s approach to the chase was pretty conventional.

Tom Blundell took the catch. Second-highest scorer in both innings here, he has conducted more rescue operations in the past year than the average lifeboat crew. For once, he came in with what appeared to be a decent score on the board, 297 for five, but take the deficit into account and it was 71 for five, so it was carry on as normal. In England’s second innings, Blundell stood up to the quick bowlers more than I have seen any keeper do, and he did it superbly, like Godfrey Evans standing up to Alec Bedser.

Blundell put on 158 with Kane Williamson. For much of his career, you looked at the scoreboard 45 minutes after Williamson has come in and saw that he had 35, but couldn’t remember how he got them. For the time being he has lost this ability to accumulate by stealth, and here it was more of a battle, but the longer it went on the more fluent he became on his way to 132. The memories that this match gave us.

On the boundary, Neil Wagner waited. He may have been wondering if this was his last day as a test cricketer. England’s new, aggressive mindset had cost him 311 runs from just 50 overs, the trademark Wagner short-pitched delivery more of a threat to spectators on the boundary than it was to the batters. He had lost a few kph, just enough to take the aces out of the pack that he used to perform his trick that kidded his victims that he was genuinely quick. He had become Boxer, the carthorse from Animal Farm, whose “work harder” solution to every problem could no longer defy the advancing years.

Wagner came on first change. Ollie Pope swotted his third ball to mid-wicket boundary, and it seemed we would have to look elsewhere for our hero today. Confidence buttressed, Pope saw four more runs coming from the last ball of the over and shaped to cut, but Wagner was telling the old joke again. It was on Pope a tad quicker and a smidgen straighter than he anticipated. Latham took a good catch at second slip. Eighty for four.

Joe Root and Harry Brook were now together, the most reliable Yorkshire combo since Aunt Betty and puddings. Their first-innings partnership of 302 for the fourth wicket was the best batting that any of us had seen for a long time. Brook made 186 from 176 balls with a low level of risk and a near-perfect match of shot to delivery. The perfection of his placement suggested that he could earn a living threading needles.

In comparison to Brook, anything that might be said about Root’s innings is at risk of damning him with faint praise. At any other time in England’s test cricket history we would say that four an over, mostly on the first day, was a remarkable rate of scoring. It was a perfectly judged innings, and had New Zealand lost on the third or fourth day, as many of us expected, we would have treasured the memory of this test match for the batting of Root and Brook alone.

Root nudged the ball towards the gap between third slip and gully and seemed to set off. Maybe he had forgotten that Blundell was standing up to Southee, ready to collect Bracewell’s throw. It was Brook’s call, but it must be hard to tell your hero “no”. He didn’t face a ball.

With 173 to get and five wickets standing, the game had become New Zealand’s to win, but the combination of Root at his best and Stokes, who loves a cocktail of tension and pressure, was as good as the cricket world could offer in this situation.

A contact who spent time in the press box told us that the English writers are calling Stokes “Brearley”, and not in a nice way. If this is so they should be ashamed, so much has Stokes done for cricket in general and England’s cricket in particular. One of the many narratives of the epic story of this test match was that both Stokes (knee) and Henry (back) were struggling with injuries and pain that should properly have seen them in the dressing room attached to a small iceberg.

The tension and bottled-up emotion of the next three hours was worthy of Le Carré at his best. Every ball came wrapped in hope and fear, the balance for the home supporters ebbing away from the former until it seemed all gone. Root, his judgement making Solomon look a dabbler in the art, took on the role of run chaser and proceeded at close to a run a ball. He was harsh on Bracewell in particular. Stokes, cast against type, was putting the emphasis on defence, ready to take over the guns if Root went down.  

Southee was most effective in keeping the scoring rate down, and his effervescent first-innings 73 was critical in reducing the lead. It will seem a surprising observation to say that a knock of 49 balls that contained five fours and six sixes shows us (and ideally Southee himself) what a dusting of contemplation can do. His shot selection was more spot-on than at any time since his debut 77 in a lost cause at Napier in 2008, for which I was also present.

I wanted Wagner back on earlier. Root and Stokes had been reasonably respectful of him at the start of their partnership, as if they had heard a particularly apposite sermon on the dangers of temptation. Bracewell bowled admirably, but was always dependent on a batter’s error to take a wicket, which did not succeed in doing.

We didn’t see Wagner in the attack again until the target was below 60, and it seemed that our chance had gone. So depressed was the general mood that some people who had left their city-centre offices at 80 for five were sufficiently desperate as to contemplate returning to them.

Perhaps the gloomy miasma reached and infected Stokes. He took the fourth ball of Wagner’s first over back to be an invitation to disrupt the traffic to the Mt Victoria tunnel, but, from somewhere, Wagner summoned that extra bit of pace and up in the air it went, landing safely in the hands of Latham at backward-square leg.

Astonishingly, Root fell for the same old trick in Wagner’s next over, except that this one did not get up as much. Had the shot gone as planned it would have broken the Museum Stand clock and Root would have had his second hundred of the match, but instead it lobbed gently to Bracewell at mid on.

With 55 needed and three wickets left, the arrival of Stuart Broad at the crease was more likely to comfort the home, rather than the visiting, supporters. I recently re-read my unflattering view of Broad’s batting in the World Cup match between these teams in 2015, and thought it harsh (I compared his thinking to that of the local ovine population, to their benefit). Yet here he approached his task just as New Zealand were expecting and wanting, the only surprise being that it took him as long as nine balls to shovel a catch to deep third where, inevitably, Wagner was waiting. It needs to be said that it was a privilege to watch Broad and Anderson bowling together one last time in New Zealand.

Foakes and Leach were together with 43 needed and only Anderson to follow. Much of what happened in the remaining overs mystified me. I have never understood why, with two wickets left to win the game, a team would stop trying to get one of the incumbents out by conventional means, instead setting fielders on the boundary and relying on the batter making a mistake. But this, of all matches, is not in need of over-analysing.

Ben Foakes approached his task courageously and came so close to winning the game, yet amateur selectors continue to contemplate an England team without him. At the other end Jack Leach summoned the spirit of Headingley ’19 to give resolute support. The closer the target got, the bolder Foakes became. A pull to the mid-wicket boundary would have been caught by Bracewell, had he been on three metres further out. There was a no ball for three fielders behind square on the onside. Then were two successive fours off Wagner, the first of which might have decapitated umpire Tucker.

On and off the field, New Zealanders were struggling to hold their nerve as we counted the target down. Again, it appeared that all hope was lost. We were Tom Hanks, waiting to die on the raft in Castaway, all hope gone.

For the third time within the hour an English batter became over ambitious. With seven needed Foakes went for the big shot off Southee only to find the top edge. One of the best moments of spectating is when you follow a ball through the air and work out where it is going to fall. From my position high in the RA Vance Stand I could see that it would land about five metres inside the rope at fine leg, but that part of the boundary was obscured by television camera scaffolding, so I only at the last moment did I see Neil Wagner emerge, and throw himself towards the ball to take the catch. No possibility of drama on this day was omitted from its narrative.

In came Jimmy Anderson. Of course. That would be the story here, Anderson hitting the winning run. His clubbed four through mid on off Wagner to put England a single away from a tie supported this interpretation.

The next seven deliveries each encompassed the torment, guilt and despair of its own deadly sin. The fifth ball of Southee’s over was especially taxing as Leach made his only attempt to score in the over, stopped – just – by a diving Henry at mid on.

Then: Blundell; Tucker; Anderson the man to go, and it was done.

My Brooklyn correspondent, a man only a little younger than me, hurdled two chairs in the Long Room at the moment of victory. I myself leapt high in the air, several times, an expression of joy from which I had assumed myself to have retired in the late 1980s, but we all lost thirty years for a minute or two.

Strangers embraced, linked forever in a moment. One of the Basin regulars said that we would remember this day for the rest of our lives, and so we will. Given the choice between recalling this day and my own name, I will choose the former, with no hesitation at all.

Of all my days at the cricket, this was the best.

 

 

A Restful Time at the Basin Reserve

 

Wellington v Auckland, Plunket Shield, Basin Reserve, 5 – 7 November 2022

Scorecard

Restful would be as good a description of this game as any. The scoring rate clung to two an over like lion cubs fearful of straying too far from their mother. I was there for the first two days. The Basin was a picture in the sunshine, but the southerly kept me in the Long Room where the main topic of conversation was whether the pies are as good as last year’s.

Wellington were put in. With spring moving into early summer, the pitch was not such a radical shade of green, official rather than provisional, if you will. The movement it provided was not extravagant, but was constant. I have not, for a long time, seen the ball pass the outside edge as often as it did on the first day. It was this that explains the slow scoring, provoking the batsmen into an abundance of caution. The pitch was not particularly slow, with good carry through to the keeper.

Auckland’s left-arm opening bowler Ben Lister was unlucky to take only the wicket of Georgeson. On another day he could have had five or six, but might his response to constantly beating the bat without finding the edge have been to pitch it up a fraction more?

Tom Blundell was, yet again, top scorer. He came in at 102 for four, not a crisis, but the innings was in need of taking more exercise and being put on a better diet. Troy Johnson, with 42, was the only other Wellington batter to get more than 20. Somebody said that Johnson had scratched about and looked out of form, but it takes a decent player to scratch about for three hours.

The wickets were shared around the Auckland attack, including two for off-spinner Will Somerville, who is the Flying Dutchman of New Zealand cricket, doomed to sail the Seven Seas forever and never see home, as a test player at least. All six of his test appearances have been in the heat and dust, and he may get the call to go to Pakistan over the New Year. Look at Somerville and the way the selectors have treated Jeetan and Ajaz Patel over the years and you might conclude that in New Zealand we treat dogs better than we do spinners.

Auckland’s first innings was, in many respects, a copy of Wellington’s. Solia was the dogged presence at the top of the order, and Ben Horne the keeper who bolstered the innings at No 6. But the chorus was more vocal for the visitors, with 44 from George Worker (a member of the Aptly-named XI, along with Boycott and PJ Hacker of Notts, among others) and a tenth-wicket partnership of 55, so though it looked much the same, a lead of 124 was the outcome.

The pace was just as stately. It was as if Derek Shackleton was bowling at one end and Tom Cartwright at the other. It was 1969 all over again, cricket with Nixon in the White House and Harold Wilson in Downing Street. I found it calming.

There was a short flurry of excitement when, after 96 overs Auckland found themselves 44 short of the second bonus point, available for the first 110 overs of the first innings. Horne was provoked into a temporary abandonment of pacifism and 250 was reached in just eight overs, after which tranquillity was restored, with just nine from the next seven overs.

In my absence on the third day, Wellington were shot out for 132, leaving Auckland with just seven for victory. Lister was more successful in locating the edge of the bat, with four wickets, and Somerville took three more.

And that is it for me and the Plunket Shield for this season. Yes, in the equivalent of early May I have seen all the domestic first-class cricket available to me in 2022/23. With two tests at the Basin when the competition resumes next year, Wellington’s home fixtures are all scheduled before Christmas. In fact, with India using the ground for practice ahead of a T20 at the Cake Tin, the fourth (and final) “home” game was in Palmerston North, two-and-a-half hours away and not in Wellington at all. Yet Fitzherbert Park is an appropriate alternative to the Basin in that it is the only other ground I know of on which the prevailing weather is a gale sufficiently strong to gather up small dogs and children and deposit them in neighbouring streets.  

Shorter forms of the game dominate the fixture list for the next couple of months.

 

 

 

The End of the New Zealand Season

New Zealand v Bangladesh, third ODI (of three), Basin Reserve, 26 March 2021

Wellington v Northern Districts, Plunket Shield, Basin Reserve, 27–30 March 2021

The Bangladeshis have been here, the sixth and final international opponents to visit New Zealand this season (including the English and Australian women). To the pleasure of the capital’s cricket fans, their visit here was to the Basin Reserve rather than the Cake Tin. It was only the fourth ODI at the Basin since I moved to Wellington in 2006. The authorities are reluctant to shift short-form fixtures away from the stadium, perhaps because it would be tacit acceptance that the multi-sport concept behind it was flawed. Usually, it occurs only when there is a clash of events, but this time it seems to have been accepted that the crowd likely to be attracted to the fixture would look lost at the bigger venue. 

Bangladesh have a 100% loss record for international matches in New Zealand, and had maintained that in the first two games in the three-match ODI series. But we in Wellington look forward to their visits, as we so enjoyed the test match here in 2017, which had some brilliant cricket and a finish in the final session of the fifth day.

Regular readers will know that recent Basin Reserve pitches have varied wildly in their character. Early on in the new Zealand innings the difficulty that batsmen had in timing the ball suggested that this one was towards the bowler-friendly end of the spectrum. 

New Zealand won the toss and batted. Henry Nicholls, heaving like a ship in a typhoon, was dropped off a diving chance to keeper Mushfiqur Rahim, only to be caught in the gully two balls later. Something similar happened to Ross Taylor, first dropped, then caught, this time by the keeper, at the end of the same over. Rarely for him, Taylor is going through a bit of a dip in form. Is this age casting its long shadow? He wants to go through to the next 50-over World Cup, and has the botox of class with which to ward off the calendar’s attack. In the meantime, he has been impressive in the commentary box during the T20s.

Guptill and Latham, both in good form, were also out to mistimed shots, which made it hard to judge what an adequate score would be. At 120 for four from 23 overs it could have gone either way; that the final total was as high as 318 was down to an innings of some brilliance by Devon Conway.

Since he came to Wellington from South Africa in 2017, these columns have brought to readers’ attention his international class. This has required no special insight nor superior analytical ability; the weight of runs he has scored are evidence enough. Here, there were shots off the back foot and the front foot, on the offside and the legside, played with a precision of placement that made boundary fielders look as if they had weights strapped to their legs. 

My favourite shot was the straight drive he played early on…or maybe the late cut in his 40s between two fielders so close they might have danced…or perhaps the successive drives through the offside after he had reached his century…or even one of the other of the 17 boundaries he hit, each of which might have been hallmarked.

Conway has not yet played test cricket, but must do so in England. There has been some debate about where he will fit in. The middle order of Williamson, Taylor, Nicholls and Watling, followed by an all-rounder, is well-established. As a practised No 3, opener seems the best option for him, which would be tough on Tom Blundell, who averages just under 40 from ten tests, most of them at the top of the order, but it is a characteristic of a successful team that what was once good enough becomes no longer so. What is clear is that Devon Conway is too good to leave out. On both his entry and exit from the field Conway was hailed like the local hero he has become.

Conway was well-supported by Daryl Mitchell in a partnership of 159. Mitchell was 83 at the start of the fiftieth over, a century improbable, but three fours off Mustafizur’s first three balls, the last a no-ball, brought it within reach. A two and a single moved Mitchell to 98, but left him at the non-striker’s end with two balls left. It looked as if Santner had found the cover boundary with the next, but never has a home batsmen being denied a four been more warmly received; they ran three to give Mitchell one chance. A better throw would have run him out, but he scrambled the second and reached his maiden international hundred, the 21 accrued from the over apparently putting the total beyond Bangladesh’s aspirations. Only towards the end of the reply, when Mahmud Ulluh started hitting out, was a serious attempt made to score at the required rate, but it was far too late. New Zealand won by 164 runs.

The following day a select spectating elite returned to the Basin for the final home Plunket Shield fixture, against Northern Districts. As usual, the severe green of the pitch suggested that the groundsman had been under the impression that he was preparing a surface for snooker rather than cricket. It has been some time since a toss-winning captain chose to bat first here in a first-class game, and Northern Districts’ skipper Joe Carter was not going to buck the trend. But, as is usual these days, the pitch was like a fierce-looking guard dog that, upon being offered a chocolate, rolls over to have its tummy rubbed.

Anybody entering the ground during the 15th over with Wellington 40 without loss would have thought that they missed nothing the least bit out of the ordinary. Yet I have never seen anything like it before in the first hour of a first-class game. 

Twenty-four of those runs came in sixes, all pulls by Rachin Ravindra. I have written about 21-year-old Ravindra’s rich promise before. This was his first game for a couple of months after sustaining a shoulder injury in the T20, so peppering the bank was just working his way of working himself back in. The shots, perfectly executed, were impressive enough, but the best thing was that these were the only attacking shots he attempted in that first hour. Great shot selection, technical excellence, the audacity to go through with them and the mental discipline not to get carried away and try it too often all wrapped up in one young opener. 

None of the sixes came off Neil Wagner. An odd fact about contemporary New Zealand cricket is that Wagner has never played for the national team in either of the shorter forms, which is why he was able to be in the Northern Districts line-up here. One can understand why, sort of. He functions only when set to “attack” and asking him to throttle back to the containing mode required in the limited-overs game would be like recruiting Genghis Khan for a UN peacekeeping mission. 

Here, at first it appeared that Wagner had signed up with Bouncers Anonymous as, unusually, he forsook his natural length, located close to his toecaps, for the uncharted waters in the third of the pitch nearest to the batsman. There were signs that he was about to fall off the wagon—a fielder sent three-quarters of the way to the square-leg boundary—but not until the twelfth over did he go round the wicket to take his seat at the short-pitched bar. Even then, it was only to Georgeson; there was no greater compliment to Ravindra than Wagner’s reluctance to give him further opportunities to smite sixes.

Towards the end of the day Wagner struck Troy Johnson on the pad. The appeal was a theatrical masterpiece, so perfectly constructed as a three-act drama that halfway through I instinctively looked for an usherette from whom to buy a vanilla tub. 

He drew on some of the finest dramatic oeuvres, starting with the great tragic actors. Then a pirouette and a backwards progress down the pitch en pointe brought to mind Nureyev as Romeo, before a finale on one knee, arms spread wide in beseechment was Al Jolson reincarnate. All of us would have walked a million miles for one of Wagner’s smiles except the umpire, who ruled it not out.  

The context for Wagner’s performance here was a dead game (the Plunket Shield having been sealed by Canterbury before it began), and he was certain of his place for the forthcoming tour to England, so had nothing to prove. Yet his analysis for the innings was 24-7-34-1. He could not have tried harder. Neil Wagner is the most estimable of cricketers. 

Ravindra joins Wagner in the tour party. He went on to 138, first out with the score on 226. Blundell also made a hundred. Long-term, his international future may be as BJ Watling’s successor as keeper. Northern Districts had reached 97 for four in reply to Wellington’s 414 for four declared at the end of the second day, only rain to wash away the final two days.

So ended the New Zealand season. It has been a good one. The fixture list worked well for me, enabling me to see more Plunket Shield and domestic 50-over cricket than I have for a few years. There was a good test match, and I enjoyed the T20 competition more than before, especially the women. That, I think, was down to an appreciation that simply being at the cricket was a privilege in our world.

My mother, who more than half a century ago was so willing to foster a young boy’s unexpected fascination with cricket, was one of those taken by Covid as the Kent variation ravaged the county, three days after my aunt succumbed to it. It will be some time before I’m next at St Lawrence (if ever, I sometimes think) so it has been a real treat, this week, to watch county cricket on YouTube. The sight of Darren Stevens sauntering in with the new ball proved that the world is not turned completely upside down. 

I hope that those whose reports and reflections on county cricket and its players I so enjoy, and anybody else who knows the pleasure of a day at the cricket, have the sun shine on them this English summer.

New Zealand v India, first test, Basin Reserve, 21–24 February 2020

Scorecard

This is an account of a test match played little more than a month ago, though it seems now to have been in another time, so much has happened since. To be able to watch cricket at all has become a matter for nostalgia. For us in New Zealand, at least it has come at the end of the season. We lost only a couple of rounds of the Plunket Shield. Let’s acknowledge that to view all this through a cricket lens is to get it badly wrong, but as someone who every year counted down the days until I could first risk April hypothermia on the roof of the Hammond Room in Bristol or elsewhere, I share the loss that county cricket watchers will feel right now.

Many of that group will wonder what county cricket will look like when it returns. Will it emerge with enough money to sustain 18 counties? Will those who seek to undermine the county structure, however much they deny it, ensure that it doesn’t?

For now, here is an account of four pleasant days at the cricket.

First day

The Basin Reserve looked a picture on a sunny morning. For the first time in almost a decade the Museum Stand was open, having been restored and strengthened against earthquakes. It has a new, somewhat unimaginative, name—the Old Pavilion. There is a new pavilion, the players’ area next to the RA Vance Stand. It might kindly be described as functional, though at least it is consistent with the architectural style of Wellington’s sports venues. Down the road, the Cake Tin, here the Bread Bin.

It has a good name though: the Ewen Chatfield Pavilion. In the UK Chatfield is best remembered for having his life saved by Bernard Thomas after edging a Peter Lever delivery onto his temple. Here, he is regarded as the quintessential New Zealand cricketer, military medium into the wind, setting the batsmen up for Richard Hadlee at the other end. Chatfield is still seen at the Basin whenever he can spare the time from driving his taxi. He retired from club cricket just last year, 51 years after his debut for the same club. He didn’t tell his Naenae Old Boys teammates until after the game that it was his last, as he didn’t want to draw attention to himself.

New Zealand won the toss—a novelty of itself at the Basin—and put India in on a pitch that had the browny-green hue of a stagnant pond. But the customary first-morning handouts were not on offer, nor did the pitch enter its usual coma after lunch. This was the best test pitch I have seen at the Basin, “best” not in the misused sense of being easy to bat on, but providing a balance between bat and ball. Throughout, there was assistance for the quicker bowlers, but it required work and skill to find it; there was bounce too, enough to test the batsmen. Ashwin even found some turn out of the footmarks; whether that would have developed into anything significant on the last day and a half, we will never know. It was a thousand times better than the dead tracks on which the England series was played.

There were six changes from the XI that I saw beaten in Sydney at the beginning of January. Williamson, Nicholls and Boult returned from illness and injury. Spinners Somerville and Astle made way for Ajaz Patel’s slow-left-arm (Sydney turned out to be Astle’s last first-class appearance—he announced his retirement soon thereafter). Pace bowler Kyle Jamieson made his test debut after impressing in the 50-over side. And Tim Southee returned. Southee’s omission from the XI at Sydney is one of New Zealand cricket’s great mysteries, our version of the disappearance of Agatha Christie in 1926. Watch out for a Dr Who episode entitled The Mysterious Dropping of Southee in a few years’ time. Neil Wagner was absent, supporting his wife as their first child was born. Matt Henry was omitted; he is slipping down the pecking order of New Zealand quick bowlers.

Prithvi Shaw and Mayank Agarwal opened for India. Twenty-year-old  Shaw could be the next big thing, but may never be good enough to deal with the sort of delivery that he received from Southee, which swung very late and hit the top of off.

Kyle Jamieson becomes New Zealand’s tallest test cricketer at six foot eight, topping Peter Fulton by a couple of inches. Like Tom Blundell, Jamieson has looked promising in domestic cricket without demanding an international place, but when given the opportunity looks as if he belongs there. Few players have pure talent in such quantity as to guarantee success at the highest level. For most, it comes down to how well they adapt to the challenges it presents. Jamieson relishes them. Barring statistical anomalies, have any other bowler’s first two test victims had a combined test batting average of more than 100?

Jamieson’s accurate off-stump line and tall-man’s bounce had induced diffidence in Pujara, and when a full-length ball straightened more sharply it found the edge to be caught by Watling. Kohli started aggressively, but in Jamieson’s next over edged another full-length delivery to Taylor at first slip.

Agarwal and Rahane took the innings well past luncheon (as I will continue to call it in tribute to John Woodcock), showing that the pitch was not combustable. It was misjudgement rather than movement that ended the partnership when Agarwal top-edged a pull to be caught at fine leg off Boult. Vihari became the third victim of Jamieson’s probing off-stump line. Progress was slow, with only 43 runs added in 27 overs during the afternoon session.

Rain came during the interval. Visiting crews in next year’s America’s Cup contest could usefully acclimatise themselves to New Zealand’s vigorous winds by doing a spell on the groundstaff at the Basin, some of whom might have been swept up over Mount Victoria while clinging onto the large groundsheet that serves as the primary covers. There was no further play; India finished the day on 122 for five.

Second day

The start of play each day was at 11 30, just as it used to be when I was a lad. However, unlike then, play here did not end at 6 30, giving us time to march briskly down the Old Dover Road to catch the 6 45 bus home. It sprawled on, not knowing quite how to end, like the Hobbit films made by Peter Jackson at the studios just down the road. The time lost yesterday was added on at the end of the day, rather than to the beginning, as was the case in the England series. This is because Indian TV wants it that way. There should be no complaint about this; the rights to this series will go a long way to keeping New Zealand cricket going for the next few years. The T20s had begun at 8pm, and that at the Cake Tin didn’t finish until gone midnight, after the losing super over that now seems obligatory for New Zealand. Some people who went didn’t get home until past 1 30am, yet were still in their seats for the first ball of the domestic one-day game at the Basin the following morning. Heroes.

Rishabh Pant resumed for India. He had been unusually subdued on the first day, but today he put the fourth ball of the morning in the food court next to the main stand.

Ajaz Patel was the bowler, on just to allow Southee to change ends. It was his third over, and last of the innings. He bowled the same number in the second innings, a reflection of how well the quicker bowlers bowled here. He was dropped for the second test, thanks partly to the poor record of spinners at Hagley Park. Also, de Grandhomme performs the holding and control role that is usually that of the spinner. The all-rounder’s 11 overs on the first day had cost only 12 runs.

However, Patel’s influence on events was not at an end. Rahane pushed a ball from Southee into the offside and set off for a sharp single. Pant took three paces down the pitch, then stopped. Rahane hesitated, but carried on. Patel, moving square from cover point, should have thrown the ball to Watling who was sprinting towards the stumps with plenty of time to take the bails off before Pant got there. Instead, Patel went for glory, and hit the one stump he had to aim at.

Pant’s selection as keeper was criticised by Harsha Bhogle as taking India down the well-trodden road of going for the better batsmen over the artisan keeper, Wriddhiman Saha in this case. Farokh Engineer agreed that Saha is the better gloveman but thought that the selectors were right to go for Pant as a package, the same reasoning having accounted for a good proportion of his own 46 test caps. Pant kept wicket well here.

Ashwin’s dismissal by Southee, was to a ball every bit as good as the one that dismissed Shaw. It was Ashwin’s first ball, but if it had been his two hundredth he would have stood no more chance of keeping it out.

Southee and Jamieson finished the innings off efficiently, both ending with four wickets. India’s total was 165 and would have been less but for Shami’s late-order slogging.

Now for something that I have been looking forward to for a few years: the chance to watch Jasprit Bumrah bowl. Bumrah’s run up resembles that of your aunty on her annual spell on the sands at Skegness, before turning into something wonderful as he passes the umpire. Like Lasith Malinga, Bumrah would never have survived a regimented academy system; he is a celebration of dissidence.

Tom Blundell continues to impress in his surprise role as a test opener, which he approached so seriously here that he did not get off the mark until the seventh over. There were a few false shots, and he was a little fortunate that balls that might have been caught landed in space, but he remained unfazed, an attribute for a batsman at the top of the order. He was still in when the spinner came on, always a sign (in New Zealand, at least) that the opener has done his job. The opening stand had reached 26 when Latham was dismissed somewhat softly, caught behind off a legside flick just after lunch.

Williamson’s first ball bounced steeply and took him on the gloves. That was just about the only false shot he played. He looked in prime touch from then on.

Blundell played around a Sharma inswinger to be bowled for 30 from a self-denying 80 deliveries. This brought in Ross Taylor in his hundredth test match, only the fourth New Zealander to achieve this after Fleming, Vettori and McCullum. What’s more, he became the first cricketer anywhere to notch up a century of international appearances in all three forms. I first came across him when he was a member of the New Zealand Under-19 squad in 2000/1 when I covered part of their series against South Africa for CricInfo. Just 16-years-old, he had scored a half century in each of the first two games, but only managed six when I saw him at New Plymouth and did not much better in the subsequent one-day series. The CricInfo scorer knew Ross quite well so he spent a bit of time with us. He came across as a modest but self-possessed young man, confident enough of his ability not to need to draw attention to it. The level-headedness has enabled him to make the most of the ability, and could be felt in the warmth of his welcome to the field as he came out to bat. Seven-thousand runs also helps, of course.

Two of his trademark shots came out straightaway. The not-quite-falling-over-push through the legside got him off the mark, then everybody’s favourite, the slog-sweep, nowadays generally reserved for the encore, but on this special day the opening number, putting Ashwin onto the terraces while still in single figures. To show that that he is down there with the kids, Taylor later ramped a boundary off the back of his bat.

The Williamson–Taylor partnership took New Zealand past India’s total for the loss of just two wickets, which was massively therapeutic for those of us who had been in Australia. But without addition Taylor was surprised by Sharma’s pace and gloved a catch to Pujara at backward short leg for 44.

Williamson continued give a reasonable impression of an angel at the crease. Two offside boundaries from one Bumrah over after he had been in for half an hour had the RA Vance Stand purring like a cattery at dinnertime. He was Shakespeare knocking off a sonnet, Rutherford splitting an atom. A century appeared inevitable, but on 89 he got a cover drive slightly wrong and substitute Jadeja took a good diving catch.

Henry Nicholls took 50 deliveries to reach double figures and was out to Ashwin, edging to gully a ball that turned quite sharply. Three of the other wickets fell to Sharma, who bowled splendidly. He has always been quick enough to bother good players but now has added guile. He exploited the extra bounce in this Basin pitch magnificently.

New Zealand were 51 ahead with five wickets standing when the sun disappeared behind the Old Pavilion to bring play to a close 20 minutes early.

Third day

Some test-match traditions are immutable. Picnics in the Harris Memorial Garden at Lord’s; beer snakes at Headingley; the band at Port Elizabeth; Chickie’s disco at the Recreation Ground, Antigua; that on one day of every test match played at the Basin Reserve there will be a southerly that could blast freeze molten lead. Today was that day.

Perhaps the wind had a chilling effect on BJ Watling’s judgement. He followed the first ball of the day from Bumrah—one that he could have been relied upon to leave 99 times out of 100—to be caught by Pant.

With the lead far from decisive and wickets falling fast, home supporters were in need of reassurance. In these circumstances the appearance of Tim Southee is as comforting as setting sail only to discover that the captain is wearing an eyepatch and brandishing a cutlass.

Sure enough, a couple of overs later he glanced a Sharma delivery that was well wide of leg stump straight to Shami at fine leg, possibly leaving the field as a test No 8 for the last time, given the fine performance by Kyle Jamieson that followed. Not many batsmen have hit a six before they are out of double figures in their debut innings as he did. Three more followed, as he showed equal relish for pace and spin. He was caught at long on going for a fifth six that would have taken him to a half century, having written his name on the New Zealand teamsheet in indelible ink.

Jamieson out de Grandhommed de Grandhomme, who was content to take the supporting role and to have the rare experience of watching himself bat. He was out soon after, feathering a legside catch off the glove to the keeper off Ashwin.

I am not generally a fan of music during play, but it would be quite reasonable if the Benny Hill theme were to ring out throughout every Trent Boult innings. He bats as if he hasn’t noticed that the library has given him the tennis coaching book rather than that for cricket. But what an eye he has. The most astonishing shot from a strong field of contenders was a full toss from Shami on middle stump that he clipped to the cover boundary while in retreat towards square leg. Boult made 38 from 24 balls including five fours and a six. New Zealand’s lead was 183.

Shaw looked in good touch with three offside boundaries in the first eight overs, before Boult’s extra bounce surprised him, though it needed a spectacular catch from Latham, stationed at leg gully for precisely that delivery, to complete the dismissal.

Pujara seemed just the man to bring India back into the game with a fighting innings. His defence was solid. De Grandhomme resorted to placing three catching short covers, to no avail. But Pujara couldn’t score. I was put in mind of the great CJ Tavaré at Lord’s in ’84 (and in many other places at many other times, to be fair), existing in a sort of temporal stasis.

Pujara was out to the last ball before tea, symbolically strokeless, leaving alone a Boult delivery angled in from wide of the crease that hit off. He made 11 from 81 balls.

In the final session, 66 runs were scored for the loss of two wickets, which sounds mundane. It was anything but; the cricket was gripping. The wickets were Agarwal, though it needed every bit of the DRS’s technology to confirm Aleem Dar’s caught-behind decision; and, crucially, Kohli, also caught behind, off a thin edge trying to hook Boult.

I had mixed feelings about this. It was a large step towards a home victory, but a cricket fan always wants to see the great players be great. I saw Kohli in his prime… He made a century last time India played at the Basin, but only when the game was dead. Given the punishing programme that Indian cricketers face, he might have been forgiven taking the foot off the pedal on a tour to a quiet corner of the world, but there has not been a second when Kohli has appeared anything other than consumed by his team’s interests. He has had a poor series with the bat, because he cares too much, not too little. The mutual respect and liking between him and Williamson has made for an excellent spirit between the two teams.

Fourth day

The wind had shifted back to a more social direction and was mostly absent; the sky was blue. It reminded me of days at Folkestone at the end of August, when summer had settled into contented, predictable old age.

India were 39 behind with six wickets standing, a good position for New Zealand, but there was anxiety among the Basin faithful. We have often seen recovery from an apparently hopeless position, usually by New Zealand: against India in 2014, Sri Lanka in 2015 and Bangladesh in 2017. We looked at the Indian team listed on the scoreboard and were impressed. There were plenty of runs left, more than that attack might give us.

Such pessimism. The game was over by lunchtime. That this was so was mainly down to the excellence of Boult and Southee, both at the point where physical ability and experience, or science and art, complement each other perfectly. Yesterday, Boult took three of the four wickets. Two of them were from short deliveries, testimony of itself to his skill, given that pace is not his chief weapon.

Boult took his fourth in the third over of the morning. Close enough to off stump to force Rahane to play, it moved just enough to take the edge of the bat.

Southee now took over. He began in the next over by working Vihari over a treat. First, he swung one away. The next one came in, through the gap created between bat and pad by the previous delivery.

Ashwin was leg-before, bringing in Sharma to buckle such swashes as remained. He was dropped twice, by Latham at short leg and Southee at short cover. Neither were difficult, but it didn’t matter. The latter miss was off de Grandhomme, who got the wicket he deserved by when he got Sharma leg-before.

Southee finished off the innings, helped by two brilliant catches, first by Boult at fine leg to dismiss Pant, then substitute Daryl Mitchell at second slip off Bumrah.

Southee finished with five for 61, Boult with four for 39. Richard Hadlee is New Zealand’s greatest bowler by a street, but these two are the outstanding bowling combination, one of the finest in cricket history. This was New Zealand’s 100th test victory, and Southee and Boult have bowled in combination in 28 of them.

Latham and Blundell completed the ten-wicket win without incident.

New Zealand took the second test in Christchurch by seven wickets, Southee and Boult again destroying India’s second innings after even first innings. So New Zealand took India apart after having the same done to them in Australia. What does this tell us about the state of world cricket?

The disadvantage of away teams remains an issue, though India’s preparation was better than most these days with the players not involved in the one-day series playing for India A against New Zealand A in four-day games. Perhaps the World Test Championship should give double points for away wins, though this assumes that anybody takes any notice of that competition which seems to have taken off like a hippo trying paragliding.

New Zealand are back to No 2 in the test rankings, just ahead of Australia and England. They are not scheduled to play tests again until August so are less immediately affected by the hiatus than some countries.

Stay safe, wherever you may be.