#barmyarmy

December 2019 — January 2020

A regret of mine is that I don’t spend time writing about sport in the immediate aftermath of matches – an optimist would say it’s a product of a sociable and busy life, but the reality is probably one of laziness – but this sporting impasse brought about by the concerning coronavirus pandemic does afford the conditions to reflect and relive some of those experiences.

Watching five days of cricket in front of one of the world’s most iconic backdrops, with England sealing victory with less than an hour to spare, was truly magnificent. Hindsight and recent events have only served to sharpen the memories, and accentuate the array of emotions that sport – and particularly sport like that – brings you.

The road to Newlands was a long one – not least because the five travellers decided to begin the trip in Durban, pre-empting an east coast Boxing Day series opener. When the schedule landed Centurion with the First Test, the logistical impracticality of a trip to the Highveld meant that a Garden Route extravaganza was planned in its place.

Despite it halving the amount of cricket we’d see, this was probably the best forced outcome of the trip, as it opened up a whole week to travel along one of the great coastal roads in the world, stopping off at some mesmerising places along the way. Playing cricket on the beach on Christmas Day in the humidity of Durban was fantastic, as were the wildlife tours which included monkeys, birds and the Big Five around Plettenberg Bay. Knysna’s idyllic lagoon and rugged coastline provided a particular highlight. And all the way from east to west, plates were full of meat and not at all expensive.

Of the five travellers, three had family members resident in the Western Cape. Hermanus provided the venue for the first of the encounters, which beautifully combined friends and family with nostalgia for past visits, and provided invaluable insight into (white) South African life – not least when the braai was fired up and covered with assorted meats.

The tour party split into two separate family bases for New Year and Newlands – the university town of Stellenbosch tucked beneath the hills half an hour’s drive outside of Cape Town, and the leafy suburb of Tokai to the south of the city. The motorway between the two offered a humbling glimpse of the other South Africa, with a vast township extending into the plains. It was hard to escape feelings of guilt and awkwardness as the still stark societal divisions played out around us in everyday life.

New Year was marked with a picturesque walk from Constantia Nek to Kirstenbosch and back, with an ascent of Table Mountain on foot the following day – Cape Town’s beauty was obvious. Over the course of these opening days we caught our first sight of Newlands itself, a quaint oval beneath the hills. We’d made it.

Whilst there had been some lively debate about how to get five of us from two separate locations safely to and from Newlands, once again it was a generous relative who solved our problem by offering two car parking spaces at their flat a stone’s throw from the rugby stadium. This provided five days of security, peace of mind and stress-free travel. The travel plan worked like clockwork on the opening morning.

England won the toss and elected to bat, and we took our seats towards the front of one of the many blocks brimming with Brits. Given that tickets for five days came under £60 per person, it was little surprise that the local support was disproportionately outweighed by the visitors. As play began, so did the Barmy Army’s dawn chorus – Jerusalem. A stirring way to start.

Newlands is one of the best places to watch cricket in the world. Modest stands and grass banks packed with spectators, competitive action in the middle, all set against a stunning mountain backdrop. It offered a view that did not get tiring at any stage across the five days of cricket. In the slower moments of play, you could sit back with a drink (readily offered to every spectator by an army of coolbox-wielding salesmen) and bask in the glory of its setting.

The atmosphere and the backdrop were enhanced even further by the personal subplot of having not one but two Kent players in the England side, with the remarkable possibility of seeing them both at the crease together. Zak Crawley was making his first appearance of the series, brought in to open the batting for the first time after Rory Burns had managed to ruin his ankle playing football. Joe Denly was never supposed to have a Test career, being more of a one-day player, but he has by no means disgraced himself through his application and bloody-mindedness at the crease. He’d also outlasted the fashionable but hopelessly misguided pick that was Jason Roy – a triumph for Kent over Surrey, and for the principles of the old school.

Unfortunately, the dream of seeing the two at the crease together was ended rather abruptly by Vernon Philander’s tireless accuracy. Crawley nibbled and nicked behind. Sibley also fell before lunch, with Denly playing a solid hand in his role of number three batsman. After lunch, Root was bounced out by the impressive Anrich Nortje – he possessed as good a bouncer as he did theme music whenever he returned to the attack.

From lunch onwards, a promising position slipped away from England in an all-too-familiar style. Denly had once again faced over 100 balls but somehow conspired to miss a stock ball from Keshav Maharaj and was bowled for 38. It was a deeply sad moment for him, and indeed me… Ben Stokes played with ludicrous fluency on a pitch that had proven somewhat difficult to score on, but conspired to drive aerially to cover when well set on 47. After Jos Buttler nibbled at the pedestrian Dwaine Pretorius, and Curran misjudged a leave which caused a lot of pain to off stump, the tail withered away. However, the ray of hope amidst the despair was provided by Ollie Pope. With the late afternoon sun glinting behind the mountains, he played some wonderful strokes to reach a half-century before the close of play.

England finished the day on 262/9, a poor effort but one that could have been worse but for Pope’s unbeaten 56. No matter how perfect the holiday and the scenery, it’s always possible to feel annoyed at English batting collapses.

Day two began with another British export to South Africa in the form of Zandvlei ParkRun. Again, much debate about logistics had finally yielded a plan, with two runners trusting an advanced guard of three to save sufficient space on the grass bank that would be our viewing position for the next two days. Alas, we followed a local runner who didn’t know the route, which meant a run of 5km became 5.6km… Even so, a liberating experience.

England added little to their overnight score before Jimmy Anderson succumbed to Kagiso Rabada with the total on an underwhelming 269. In reply, three early wickets fell to give England cause for optimism, but Dean Elgar and Rassie van der Dussen countered steadily over the course of the afternoon to provide South Africa with a solid platform of their own.

With the crowd relaxed by the slow accumulation, suddenly came a defining moment in the match. Dean Elgar’s attacking instincts against spin prompted a fatal mistake as he charged Dom Bess, spliced his shot high into the air, and was caught at mid-off. There was much joy, and indeed some personal smugness after earlier voicing of disdain for Elgar’s approach against spin, and the potential for it to cause his demise…

South Africa’s promising position deteriorated drastically after Quinton de Kock provided a gift of his own, playing a hopelessly lazy shot to a slower ball which floated to mid-off. A trademark lapse in concentration.

The obdurate van der Dussen was prised out by Sam Curran, edging to the cordon, before the timeless Jimmy Anderson picked up two more victims in the slips just before stumps. From 157/3, South Africa had slumped to 215/8 by the end of the second day, thanks to a self-triggered collapse of their own.

Hordes of English spectators poured onto a multitude of coaches to return them safely to their hotels as we walked back to our borrowed garage for our drives home. We split once more, ready to do it all again tomorrow. But first, a motorway cruise to Stellenbosch for a relaxing family evening and a delightfully meaty dinner. Fire up the braai, Deon.

Rabada edged the first ball of the third day to Buttler, and Stokes caught his fifth in the slips to give Anderson a well-deserved five-wicket haul. The display of catching by Stokes on a pitch that didn’t always have great carry was truly mesmerising, and it was a delight to applaud Anderson from the field as he continues to operate in the highest class of seam bowlers in defiance of his age.

For the second time, the potential for a Kentish duo at the crease together for England presented itself. For the second time, Crawley was dismissed first. He played positively, striking a glorious driven boundary down the ground, but a repeat of the stroke yielded an outside edge. He departed for 25.

In a war of attrition, England emerged victorious, as Dom Sibley and Denly ground the hosts down. A brief moment of optimism for the hosts came when Denly, who had faced more than a century of deliveries once more, pulled a short ball from Nortjie to fine leg to fall in the thirties once again. But Sibley continued stubbornly, joined by his captain Root who assisted in pushing the score along and cementing England’s hold on the game.

By mid-afternoon, South African skipper Faf du Plessis had resorted to slowing the game down as his bowlers struggled to find a way through. This prompted the odd word of dissent from those remaining on the grass bank, where early excitement at a TV appearance had given way to a desire to cling to the remnants of shade.

Root did his usual trick of reaching fifty, stalling and getting out before reaching a century. He was caught in the slips, while Bess semi-succeeded in his role of nightwatchman by preventing Stokes from having to bat before the close – he was dismissed in the final over of the day, for a second duck of the match.

Two late wickets and a new ball due the following morning gave South Africa the smallest glimmer of hope, but they were 264 runs behind with Sibley unbeaten on 85 – a patiently compiled innings which was clearly unfinished.

That remaining hope was extinguished on the fourth morning thanks to a brutal Stokes onslaught. His full-blooded strokeplay gave the innings energy, acceleration and adrenaline as the scoreboard ticked rapidly and ominously upwards. It also took the focus away from Sibley, who played his first sweep shot of the innings to Maharaj to pick up the boundary that gave him his maiden Test hundred. The ovation for Sibley’s hundred from the whole ground was wonderful to be a part of.

We were back in the stands on this fourth morning, experiencing a mixture of awe and terror as Stokes wielded his blade and rained sixes down upon us.  The contrasting styles of these two batsmen were working in perfect tandem. It was a morning where the sun shone on an ascendant England.

Eventually, Stokes holed out in the deep and ended his 258-throwback innings with 72 runs from a mere 47 balls. The rest would try to emulate him, but fail, as Sibley settled for red ink on 133. The acceleration had given England precious extra time to bowl South Africa out on a pitch that was slow but still offering some assistance, particularly to seamers bowling from the Wynberg End. The declaration came, with a notional target of 438, but more importantly a full five sessions for England to bowl at South Africa.

South Africa avoided the loss of early wickets this time, thanks to a successful review and some watchful batting. The partnership passed fifty, before a real ‘I was there’ moment occurred – Joe Denly took a Test wicket.

Substantial rough at one end of the pitch meant that spin operated from the Kelvin Grove and seamers rotated at the Wynberg End. Denly had been introduced after a period of passivity in the hope that this rough would prompt a mistake. The dismissal was a fuller ball, but Elgar pushed forward and the umpire’s finger went up with the appeal for a catch behind the stumps. Despite sending it to review, convinced he had hit the floor instead of the ball, the decision was upheld and the Man of Kent had his maiden Test victim. What a time to be alive.

Zubayr Hamza arrived into Test cricket with an excellent record but his performance at Newlands was unconvincing. He pushed forward at a fine Anderson delivery that left him and was superbly taken low down by Buttler behind the stumps shortly before the close. South Africa finished the day on 126/2 after 56 overs of obdurate batting, with Pieter Malan’s watchful innings and a successful venture as nightwatchman by Maharaj leaving England still requiring eight wickets to win the match on the fifth and final day.

To give the fifth day at Newlands its proper context, prior to the series there had been increasing noises about Tests being shortened to four days for financial reasons. It was reported that the ECB would be supportive of this – they denied as much in public, but their rigorous pursuit of the folly that is The Hundred meant that few trusted their intentions.

The match at Newlands had ebbed and flowed nicely, and the five days had allowed it to breathe. We witnessed a keenly fought opening salvo without time pressure, with England gaining the upper hand on the third day. A fifth day provides the time window required to push for final victory, and offers a tricky but navigable path to safety for the side hoping to draw the game. That fifth day is also a very handy insurance policy if the match is disrupted by bad weather, too.

On top of that, the fifth day is often released on general sale the night before, with tickets available on the gate, providing a level of access to people who are often shut out of the first four days. Although less applicable here, given how cheap the tickets were across the Test, it still remains true that a fifth day crowd is bereft of corporate ticket holders, and a real draw for the purist. Especially when a match goes down to the wire…

This (relatively) short report is incapable of conveying the long, drawn-out tension of that fifth day at Newlands. A quick scan of the subsequent paragraphs reveals all in a couple of minutes, whereas those six hours of cricket gave rise to a vibrant cocktail of emotions ranging from doubt, and dread, to dreamy delirium.

We’d picked a classical viewing position at long off for the final day, away from the Barmy Army as it belted out Jerusalem once again. It substituted the glorious backdrop of Table Mountain for a more practical view straight down the pitch.

Maharaj didn’t last long, blocking a ball bound for middle stump with his pad rather than his bat, but Malan and du Plessis reached drinks without alarm as England searched for a moment of inspiration to break the game open. As it turned out, it was a lapse in judgement that handed them the fourth wicket of the innings as Faf swept Bess hard, only to pick out Denly at square leg perfectly. The Man of Kent took the catch, turned to the crowd and gave it large in celebration. We responded in kind – given our patience in waiting for these breakthroughs, each wicket was celebrated with real vigour.

Malan remained a stubborn presence at the crease, ticking his score upwards slowly towards a maiden hundred of his own, but shortly after lunch he edged the new ball low to second slip where Stokes once again made no mistake. Sam Curran’s breakthrough reinvigorated the spirits of English supporters, but it was to be the sole wicket to fall in the afternoon session. Thanks to the stubbornness of van der Dussen, and the impressive restraint of de Kock, South Africa were 225/5 after 115 overs.

The brief break from the tension that tea granted afforded us one last opportunity to forecast the final outcome. Our nervousness was apparent, and thus the draw heralded favourite, but the predictions were barely authoritative The uncertainty surrounding the end result demonstrated how brilliantly the plot had unfolded across five full days of cricket. It was time for the final act.

English hopes diminished further in the opening overs after tea, as the tactical ploy of using Curran to bowl off-cutters into the rough merely fuelled de Kock’s fluency, and Anderson pulled up after two tame overs with what turned out to be a cracked rib. Denly returned to the attack, hoping that one ball landing in the rough might misbehave enough to break the partnership.

Denly dropped one short. De Kock’s eyes lit up. He pulled, hard. Straight to mid-wicket. Zak Crawley took the catch. Newlands erupted.

Just when it had seemed that de Kock had overcome his naïve instincts and avoided a catastrophic brain fade, he gifted his wicket away. Rather than combining with the bat, the Kent duo had combined with the ball and taken a crucial wicket. I could hardly hide my delight and amusement.

From the other end, a rejuvenated Stuart Broad pounded in as he has done so faithfully for his country for more than a decade. Finally, the pitch was offering the seamers some assistance, with a crack on the line of fourth stump threatening to cause deviation either way. Van der Dussen kept blocking, kept leaving, and kept resisting. Seeking inspiration, Broad moved Anderson into a leg slip position and angled his next delivery into the pads. Astonishingly, van der Dussen followed the ball behind his pads, edged, and was caught by the newly positioned fielder. Incredible. And as you can imagine, we celebrated hard again.

The game was well and truly there for the taking now. After one more searching Broad over, England’s talisman replaced him. His aggression with the bat and skill with his hands in the slips had set up a winning position. Would Stokes complete the three-card trick with ball in hand?

Stokes attacked the crease hard for his first two overs, eliciting the odd bit of assistance from the pitch without finding the outside edge. The fourth stump crack was ideally positioned for him in particular thanks to his wider release point on the crease.

The game entered its final hour, and still you couldn’t predict which way it would go. Thirteen overs remained, three wickets in hand.

Stokes kept charging in. Pretorius had looked vulnerable, and he succumbed to the pressure. The nagging line induced an outside edge which Root took superbly down low at first slip. Nortje walked to the crease, another potential thorn in England’s side thanks to his efforts as nightwatchman in the previous game.

Stokes attacked again. Nortje edged to a ludicrously close catcher at third slip. Zak Crawley hurled his hand towards the ball, palming it in the air. We gasped. It floated downwards, between second and fourth slip both thinking of diving after it, but landed safely in Crawley’s other hand. After the gasp, a cacophonous roar and limbs everywhere.

Two in two for Stokes, who could win the game with his hat-trick ball. Could England really do it?

The hat-trick ball was a full toss bunted back down the ground by Rabada for no run. Four more overs passed by. Surely not.

With nine to go, Stokes hammered his length again. The ball spat at Philander, took his glove and floated to gully. There was a brief moment of confusion as England anticipated a review, but Philander merely removed his gloves and went to shake hands. England had won by 189 runs.

The release of tension was extraordinary, giving way to giddy jubilation and a deep feeling of satisfaction. We had travelled to the southern tip of Africa to witness England’s first victory at Newlands since 1957, in the final hour of the final session of the final day of the game. “I swear you’ll never see anything like this ever again, so watch it, drink it in…”

England were worshipped as heroes as they lapped the ground and thanked the crowd. Philander was waved off on his own lap as he thanked his home crowd at the end of his final Test at Newlands. Stokes was announced as man of the match, and rightly so. It was a truly mesmerising performance, managing to have a transformative impact with all three disciplines at various stages throughout the match. As Mark Nicholas would say, he is some cricketer.

To think that some people want to get rid of the fifth day…

Reluctant to leave, we returned to our old friend the grass bank for a few final photos, and one last look at the wondrous view across the ground towards the mountains. Many others were doing the same, savouring the moment.