Proteas graduate to greatness
2008-08-03 09:03
Rob Houwing
Cape Town - We suspected this South African Test cricket team was pretty good, but were never absolutely, steadfastly sure.
Something just seemed to stop us - or at least most of us - from giving them an irreversible stamp of approval, even as they unobtrusively snuck up the ICC ladder and did praiseworthy things like win a series in Pakistan and share one in India.
But finally, we do know. It is an indelible fact now that the class of 2008 has verve, skill, ambition... and, above all, bottle.
Winning in England, and doing it even with a dead-rubber Test now at The Oval to simply savour with rare freedom from pressure, is a genuinely holy grail.
The sparkling five-wicket triumph at Edgbaston, ensuring an impassable 2-0 lead, was an achievement that doesn't happen every day. After all, Birmingham is considered a mini-fortress for England, and the Proteas had to eclipse a record for a fourth-innings chase at the ground to attain their hitherto horribly elusive goal.
Elusive? Here's a little reminder: South Africa hadn't sampled series glory in England since 1965, the year Rhodesia defiantly declared UDI from Great Britain and Malcolm X was assassinated in Harlem. It's the proverbial donkey's years.
And let us not forget the cumbersome, post-isolation albatross which unpleasantly, constantly squawked that in three attempts between 1994 and 2003, South Africa had held the lead in England, only to botch the job as the summer unravelled in heartbreak and fatigue.
Havoc
So when Michael Vaughan's team posted 363 in their second innings, easily the highest total of the match, don't pretend that at least a tiny part of you didn't shudder and think "uh-oh, here's another bad moon rising".
I know I thought the Proteas were gone for all money as they subsided from 65/0 in the 281 chase to 93/4 as the bizarre bogey of Freddie Flintoff's hand getting "lost" above the sightscreen returned to wreak a certain havoc and discord.
But even as the annoyances and setbacks mounted and the threat appeared to exist that South Africa might crack into a million pieces, there was the captain, Graeme Smith, standing impassively yet imposingly at one end, intent not to get dragged into the emotional bedlam.
Here was a man rapidly realising that he needed to stick around to the end and play what Vaughan would later generously laud as "a very special innings". Fortunately 'Biff' Smith thrives on special innings, not to mention special-needs innings: the very fact ought to be branded onto his business card.
And how special was that unbeaten 154? It was right up there both for him and his cock-a-hoop country, considering any number of landmines that might have detonated at Captain Courageous's feet.
Just for one thing, how would his suspect back hold up for the 341 minutes at the crease it was eventually required to? Then there was the Monty Panesar factor - every now and then, the excitable left-arm spinner would turn or spit a ball with the sort of violence to put Shane Warne in the shade.
Sometimes, yes, it would take the mercy of umpire Aleem Dar to ensure Smith's ongoing vigil - but that's cricket, isn't it?
Isn't universally popular
Smith found adhesive companionship when it mattered most from AB de Villiers, who made up in a relatively small but hugely important second knock for his rush of blood in the first, and then Mark Boucher.
The wicketkeeper, it may surprise some enthusiasts to know, isn't universally popular in South Africa. But who better than this sometimes snarling, cocksure street-fighter to help Smith over the line?
Boucher took key, acrobatic catches in this match, too, and his shelf-life in Tests is a long way from spent - there was ample proof at Edgbaston to utterly scatter his knockers.
It must be said that the South African balcony looked, admittedly from a distance, a picture of staggering tranquillity throughout the chase. Was it a further sign of this team's ever-northward self-belief?
Morne Morkel, for instance, spent 114 minutes (blame Boucher's obduracy for that) as the intended next man in, which oughtn't have been easy for the youngster but if there was a single trickle of sweat down his gently gum-chewing cheek I didn't spot it. He looked as though he was quite ready to be a hero, too.
Mickey Arthur's only mistake was to stand up as the Proteas got to within 30 runs of their ecstasy: long-standing cricket superstition dictates that you simply don't do that that when things are looking chipper, and the genial coach quickly realised his folly!
Blue-chip series
Speaking of Arthur, this was his massive breakthrough as a mastermind, too. If ever someone has stood by a small, consistently-selected bunch of players he is utterly adamant are his true elite, it is he.
Arthur, for instance, must have been at least in some part responsible for the awkward-to-do, slow marginalisation of the legendary Shaun Pollock toward retirement, convinced as he always said he was that outright pace was the prerequisite to the Proteas winning blue-chip series like this one - even if many would have felt Polly might yet have thrived in English conditions.
He was adamant, too, about his batting top six - boldly told me before UK departure - and not nearly as paranoid as some observers (this one included) about the perceived length of his team's tail.
And he certainly put his head on a block by proclaiming, too: "I consider triumph in England as a non-negotiable after India."
They were not to prove hollow words.
Perhaps the best thing about the series victory has been the broad array of Proteas players who have contributed to it - centuries have been widely shared around, wickets attained in workmanlike groups of "three-fors" rather than virtuoso "seven-fors".
It is all further evidence of a team very, very sure of itself. The Aussies can now be contemplated with enthusiasm, not more customary trepidation.
Hats off to you, Mick, Biff and the boys... go out and paint "Brummie" red.