ALL RIGHT. Who made the gods angry? Cricket gods. Weather gods. Sports gods. All gods. Because very clearly, the gods, well, the gods are clearly deeply bored. As the free boys are boys for the gods of the fifth day costs. They lead us, surround us in a frenzy and bring us back the next day for their sport.
It seemed appropriate in the end that England and India could compete with each other on the 25th of 25 days in this series of very fine tests, now played by two teams operating on smoke, caffeine, ship cookies and blood listed socks.
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In relation: Siraj is summarizing great moments to live in memory for a long time | Simon Burnton
Everyone won this match and lost it simultaneously when England and India were called from the field at 5:29 p.m., first by Bad Light and then by a rain. England needs 35 points, in India four counters, one of those of the wounded Chris Woake arm.
Races had reflected like floating smoke in the vast open sky over the oval stands while Harry Brook and Joe Root played as princes during the afternoon session. At the end, these same races had become the most reluctantly contacious substance on earth while India retaliated with a big heart, took counters and stuck a handful of choices in the rotating door.
How in the history of all crickets, has anyone managed to score 35 points, you are wondering, as Jamie Smith and Jamie Overton have pushed and braid, feet locked up in an invisible concrete of industrial concrete of a gangster.
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Something will happen on Monday morning. The stories will be defined, themes that we have always been able to be real nailed in place by the decline in this last push of the line. For the moment, there is a bonus element: it is time to digest a wonderful fourth day, one of the big days of the Bazball project. And especially to talk about Brook.
Brook’s 111 deserves to sit alone in its own square of brilliant light, innocent of all the results. Victory would probably push him as the largest on this land in the modern era, or at least up up with the 153 years of Kevin Pietersn 20 years ago against an Australian attack of all time.
For the moment, the best way to look at Brook’s sleeves is to start at the key moment. Not the hundred herself, celebrated with a huge wave of hot noise of a completely delighted oval crowd. Instead, the moment to remember a deeply hallucinogenic fourth day happened half an hour before lunch, in a game that history, gravity and the dashboard suggested that England lost.
How Brook came out of his fold and hit Akash deeply out of six. It was not only an impossible blow, but an act of pure gangsterism. Brook was eight out of 18 balls at the start of the end. England was 126 for three and paddling. Johan Cruyff said that when he played badly, he used to break someone, to start a row, to upset the day. It is not far from what Brook does when adrenaline jab is necessary. Here, he came with a moment of competence and precision of the spatial age, all hands, eyes, easy grace, and in a way a kind of negligence too, like a man crushing an apple on a tennis court with a walking stick.
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It is difficult to overestimate the shine to be able to do so, but also to choose to do it at that time. It’s thug’s cricket. He presents himself to the British with a false Uzi in your pocket. It’s Cherringtony Soprano. It is the talent of another place. And it is also entirely logical. If you can play this blow, you have a duty to do it. The moment will exist now, a collage of intention, shapes, lines, thrown conventions.
His timing also had cold eyes. At that time, England lost. Ben Duckett had fought hard, pushing and sparkling and looking at, as always as Paddington courageously face the new ball. Ollie Pope had come and left, trying to knock everything through Square Leg, an elite player with a clearly imperfect technique.
So, with the day getting closer, Brook occurred. A little later, he hung on to the hands of Mohammed Siraj just above the rope in front of the ground hangar. There were prints and shifts and Wallops, Brook seeing the ball as a single point of light. He left for lunch to a huge stunning roar, 38 out of 30, and the game opened its doors.
It is a shock and a fear of fear. England is planning for this, choose the time to change the energy. It seems appropriate that Brook, the Sedbergh Stock Exchange, but also a man with a different path, should be the spiritual animal of this style. All his game is contained in this easy swing, perfect hands, clarity of his eye. The best players are always orthodox, but with forms that are their own, which express a note of their own character and their physique. Brook has this, is graceful, but also narrow, with silk elegance but also a silk elegance.
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Has anyone ever spent a better time playing test cricket for England? Brook played 29 tests and won 19 of them, on average 57, has more than six per game than anyone, we say to go out and be Harry Brook, extending into the great scope of his own surprising talent in real time.
Brook and Root gorged on the pursuit with both hands after lunch. Brook’s 50 came out of 39 balls. India began to bowl short and tired men striking it in a placid terrain. Brook sent a hop from Ravira Jadeja to the mid-term fence with the freewheel disdain of a man throwing a television thrown into a jump.
There will be a temptation for some to dwell on its absurd and very funny dismissal. Brook launched the bowling alley at each corner when he tried too far and literally threw his bat in his square leg, only to be caught covered.
Why, why, why not get started and bring it home? Which is of course missing the point. This clip on the cover was the thing impossible that made it very difficult to do. You want either this, or you don’t do it, with all its edges. And, frankly, whatever the result, which could seriously wish to have it otherwise?
