In March 1977, the Centenary Test match between Australia and England at the Melbourne Cricket Ground attracted nearly a quarter of a million spectators and dominated the media at a time when Australian football codes were just beginning to transgress upon the summer sports.
Although the game was promoted as a one-off fixture to commemorate the 100th anniversary of the very first cricket Test, it was played with the vigour of any Ashes clash. Remarkably, the margin of Australia’s victory, 45 runs, was exactly the same as it had been in that first Test in 1877.
Rick McCosker batted with a broken jaw and spin bowler Kerry O’Keeffe successfully opened the batting in the second innings, but the biggest buzz was around a blond-haired leftie from South Australia making his debut.
David Hookes reeled off four consecutive boundaries from the high release medium pace of arch-villain Tony Greig – high excitement in a cricketing era when Geoff Boycott might nurdle a dozen runs in a session and breathe content.
Hookes’ approach, it was predicted, would be the way of the future in Test cricket. Swashing and buckling his way through the game’s best bowlers, protected merely by the cloth and cardboard of a baggy green, he had no fear, no inclination to limit his strokeplay and no coaching manual to stifle his individuality. As the contemporary player would put it, “see ball, hit ball”.
Kerry Packer brought forth World Series Cricket in the months following that extraordinary Test match, introducing white Kookaburras, coloured clothing and matches played out after sundown.
David Hookes bats against England in 1977.Credit: The Age
By the early 1980s, one-dayers were packing the punters in, day, night and matinée. Test cricket was slated for cremation in the manner of the famous bails. Ashes were all that would be left of five-day cricket, but that never quite happened. Tests continued to deliver a much wider range of narratives, from “rain saves England” to the last-wicket thriller, the all-square tie and the all-square draw (only in cricket!).
Test cricket evolved without changing that much: a neat trick. Great players continued to adorn the game, create history for themselves and for others to pursue, and confirmed the Test match’s place at the top of its sport. Test cricket’s demise may have been a rumour exaggerated by a media taken in by white-ball propaganda, when the interest of fans had never truly waned.
It doesn’t hurt to have a Hookes or a Warne or a Sam Konstas, or a rivalry that constantly balances on the edge of conflict – and can even evoke a physical response like that of Virat Kohli, who went about demeaning the game and his own reputation on the first morning in Melbourne. I have cited the Australian paradigm breakers, but all nations have had their own: Sehwag, Jayasuriya, de Villiers, McCullum, Bumrah, Brook, Bethell or India’s young veteran, Yashasvi Jaiswal.
The list is not extensive but it is exclusive. Jaiswal is of the same generation as Konstas. Both have been educated through short-form cricket and from there they bring a willingness to create and take risks as a normal part of batting. They also spend time practising ramps, shoves and reverses. It’s not luck that they hit more than they miss.
The crowd imitate Sam Konstas … and he loves every moment.Credit: Getty Images
Konstas joined the pantheon of passing legends when he conducted the Bay 13 orchestra late on day two. Here were echoes of Merv Hughes’s calisthenics or DK Lillee’s eponymous chant, just two days into a Test career. Melbourne, the city with the second-largest Greek population in the world, was embracing one of their own.
Every ball he faced required full attention of spectators, players and umpires. Milk bars were clearing across the country but perhaps more importantly electronic devices were being switched off or switched over to the cricket. Konstas has made just two BBL appearances – one to great effect– but he is of the generation that has grown up playing club and representative T20.
He will become an international three-format player sooner rather than later. Opponents will work hard at working him out, plans will be laid and he will need to look closely at his work against spin and the short ball. But that will come with experience. A couple of Tests in Sri Lanka will help. For all of his own success, his effect on the seniors around him was remarkable.
Not only did he fulfil the traditional opener’s task of dulling the new ball and opposition quicks so that the middle order could flourish, he also inspired Usman Khawaja, Marnus Labuschagne and Steve Smith, who all passed 50. Konstas also kept the under-pressure Khawaja away from Bumrah for the first eight overs – welcome respite for the veteran after the paceman had claimed him five times in the series bowling around the wicket.
Watching Konstas flourish with an array of shots both orthodox and unorthodox seemed to tear the tourniquet off the veterans. Their footwork was fleet, strokes flowed and the aim was to dominate rather than to survive, in contrast to what we had seen through the first three Tests.
Smith was back near his best, moving early then keeping his head still at impact, driving hard through the narrow gaps in the covers, deflecting leg side without fear of gliding to the keeper or giving a leg gully a sniff. When he took on the short ball, it was with full commitment. It was as if he was thinking, “If the teenager can bat so freely, maybe I should, too”.
To thrive, sport has always needed heroes. As long as a Sam Konstas or a Yashasvi Jaiswal or a David Hookes keeps coming along, Test cricket will never be eclipsed by the shorter games.
