Why, when a Test match is as absorbing and fascinating as the one that finished at Lord’s on Sunday, is Test cricket said to be dying? The fluctuations of the game, its surprises, its shifts of fortune over four days were profoundly fascinating. Lord’s was packed.
The vulnerabilities of both sides were as riveting as their strengths. It takes the long form of the game, and not one in which the innings are limited to 20 or 50 overs each side, for the spectator to appreciate these subtleties, and to become gripped by unfolding of the story.
A Test match is like a novel by Dickens, Hardy or George Eliot; limited overs matches are at best like a Somerset Maugham short story, at worst like a comic strip. Cricket is a psychological game: but the psychology can best be appreciated only when the play spreads over several days, and the actions of individual players can seen in the context of lengthier study.
Take the atrocious shot that caused Moeen Ali to give away his wicket on Sunday afternoon. In the first innings he managed to compile 23 runs before failing to read Yasir Shah correctly, and was out lbw.
On Sunday, having made just two and, with England five wickets down and not halfway to the total they needed to save the match, he danced down the wicket to Shah – having apparently decided that failure to attack was no option – and, having made sure to take his eye off the ball, was clean bowled.
That left things two-nil to Shah: battle will no doubt be resumed at Old Trafford, if Moeen convinces the selectors he deserves another chance.
One of the great things about Test cricket is that these little epics can unfold: who knows who will come out on top after a whole four-match series?
Those of us lucky enough to watch every ball of this Test will go away enthused about the longer game and more convinced than ever of its technical and moral superiority. There were one or two things that could have been better – England’s dismal over-rate is simply unacceptable, and the England selectors are going to have to repair several weaknesses before Old Trafford.
But the rapid dispatch of the last two Pakistani batsmen almost before we had settled into our seats on Sunday morning set up a perfect day: with England requiring 283 to win in virtually two whole days, we were assured of a result.
Then began the ebbs and flows of fortune. England were off to a rattling start, and looking almost contemptuous of the Pakistani fast bowling. But their confidence was misplaced, being reduced to 47 for three, with two of the side’s greatest batsmen – Cook and Root – back in the pavilion, thanks to poor shots.
But to show how little can be predicted accurately in this game, two players who looked out of touch in the first innings, Vince and Ballance, managed to get past 40 and look as though they might establish themselves.
But, as with most of the England upper order in the first innings, they failed to establish themselves, and Pakistan took wickets and regained the upper hand. They would have had it even more had they held their catches, a failing they had in common with England.
Ebbs and flows come in the shorter game too, of course: but what is always lacking is the scope for a side that is doing badly to pull itself round, or, conversely, the scope for a side that appears to be on top to throw its advantage away. The sheer tension and excitement that builds up over several days has a flavour of its own: that is why Test cricket is so special.
Just when England seemed to have lost, Bairstow – playing exceptionally out of his usual ebullient character – and Woakes steadied the ship, put on more than 50, and made English supporters dream of an unlikely victory. Shah’s removal of Bairstow, thanks to another bad shot, ended that dream: Broad heading back to the pavilion almost immediately just rubbed it in.
The treat we had not just of seriously good fast bowling, but of a world-class leg-spinner again tearing the heart out of the England batting, was absolutely vintage. England lost: but the game, almost invariably, was wonderful, tense, and, until the last half-hour, close enough to hold our interest.
But it is all very well for the connoisseur to take this view; where cricket is going wrong is that it seems to lack the means to create new connoisseurs. Not for the first time, one lamented the absence of the game from terrestrial television, whose effect on reducing attendances at Tests outside London against most touring sides is now painfully obvious.
As has been endlessly said and written, cricket now has to compete with all sorts of other recreations that were no even imagined by the children of a generation ago. And so few schools play cricket, outside the private sector, that the opportunities for most young people to develop an interest in the game scarcely exist. The game we had at Lord’s this last four days should be bottled and sent round the world. It was an example of why Test cricket is the finest game on earth. We must just hope it isn’t too late.
