Travis Head scores Australia's first Test hundred at The Oval...against India!
A day of London sunshine saw India disappear from the rear-view mirror, with Australia assuming a commanding position at stumps on day two at the Oval.
Ravindra Jadeja and Ajinkya Rahane held up Pat Cummins and co. for a short time after India’s top order was undone by Australia’s insistence on bowling the correct length. As a qualified bowling coach once said, "It’s not what the ball does, it’s where it does it from." Correct, Mr. Saker.
Often, bowling second on a helpful pitch is better than you might first realise.
India magnanimously gave a wicket to each of the five bowlers used, ending the day 5–151, a distant 318 runs adrift.
It’s hard to pin-point where India’s top order stumbled. Scores of 13, 14 and 15 represented progression, albeit small gains!
Cheap shots aside, I would say that when Australia bowled a ‘money ball," it resulted in a wicket. Cricket can happen this way: a good ball matches an indifferent shot, resulting in a wicket. The timing is everything.
And, conversely, on another day, bowlers watch money balls fly past outside edges and batters are labelled lucky buggers!
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Earlier…
Travis Head’s 163 (from 174 balls) will easily be the high score of this WTC final. Period.
Heard this before? "It’s like he’s batting on a different pitch than the rest." For all intents and purposes, he was, and his boundaries alone will likely eclipse the rest of the field over the game’s four innings (25x4’s and a solitary 6).
On resumption, later today, India will still be 12 runs adrift of Head’s individual contribution, with half the team sat drinking chai latte’s—no doubt thinking what could have been.
Imagine this: Ravi Ashwin—the No. 1 Test bowler in the world—named as the 12th man—ferrying chai lattes back and forth. No, not really; surely he should be padded up, waiting to bat. India dropped the ball here.
It proved interesting to hear this Oval wicket is flat; I would say it’s a long way from being as flat as some of the commentators are spruiking—mainly the ones who batted in previous lives, which they seem reluctant to leave behind!
Oh, for some friggin’ commentary without self-reference. Anyway, sorry, back to the point in mind.
This is not a flat pitch. There’s enough live grass to excite the green-fingered amongst us, and if you sat it in a barber's chair and gave it a number two, you would likely find a dry scalp underneath, similar to the plants I try to keep alive at home.
With the ergonomic hat on, the profile of this surface is as shallow as a British Prime Minister. And why would that be?
The Oval resides in Kennington, south of the river Thames. Its more glamorous sister—of sorts—Lords sits peacefully in St. John's Wood, on the north side of the river.
Now, I wanted to bring groundsmen (curators) into the conversation. Yes, I’m unsure of the protocols for correctly identifying this group of people, so for the sake of this, I’m running with groundsmen.
Mike Hunt—not his stage name—was the head groundsman at Lords forever—49 years to be exact. He knew every inch of the hallowed turf and tended it with loving care—most of the time!
It is true that groundsmen are a quirky lot; in my experience, it's best not to get their backs up and try not to tell them how to do their job.
Mike Gatting, the ex-captain of Middlesex, would have fought with Hunt incessantly. Gatting was always quick to offer advice on anything you cared to discuss. Hunt would have enjoyed rebutting him—I believe it’s a class thing with groundsmen; they enjoy being the perceived underdog.
"Give us a green-top Mick." You can hear Gatting bellow from the Lords balcony the day before an important county game—is there such a thing?
What do you get? A dust-bowl, and John Emburey’s in the South of France on holiday!
They—groundsmen—can often get you what you can’t buy on the high street. They seemed to have an uncanny knack for being one step ahead. It did, or does, seem like a profession that is permeated with certain undercurrents!
The reason for bringing this to your attention is this ‘not so flat’ Oval wicket.
I have no idea who the groundsman is—a Google search returned nothing other than instructions to refer to this group as grounds-people or curators (Australian dictionary).
It’s fair to say, though, that limited preparation might have been prescribed and administered. Uneven bounce has reared its head early; lateral seam movement is on offer, and it’s hard to see the surface improving. I’m sure the groundsman and his staff are wishing for an early conclusion to this game. Hence its verdant appearance.
I digress.
Earlier, Australia made the running from the get-go. Steve Smith clipped Mohammed Siraj’s second ball of the day for four, moving to 99. There are no nervous-nineties for Smith at the Oval—he likes to be south of the river! The next disappeared through midwicket, bringing up his 31st century in just shy of 100 Tests. An extraordinary career—to date.
The Aussies pushed on with Alex Carey driving the late-order scoring, he and his coaches will be happy with his solid contribution—there will be bigger fish to fry in the coming weeks for Carey.
Both sides should be better for the last two days of cricket. Australia has been far from perfect, which will not worry Andrew McDonald in the slightest. India messed up their selection and looked off with the ball. Still, the sun might shine again later, I might have the pitch wrong, irrespective, and both teams will be seeking improvement, and a little less red-ball rust.
As always, thanks for being here, and have a great weekend.
Well done Nick. Concise as usual and I share your thoughts on commentary
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