Guess who just got back today? Those wild-eyed boys who had been away. This was a day of brittle, over-caffeinated cricket, on an MCG pitch with faint green edges. But it was also a day when the boys were back in town, however briefly.
Ben Duckett and Jacob Bethell were the two leads in the grainy Zapruder-style footage of the six-day mid-series dance by the sea in England. True to apparent recent form, both were here for a good time not long ago when England were bowled out for 110 in 29.5 overs. Both batted like men fumbling for the light switch in the dark against a new ball that sometimes spanned the width of the bat.
But it’s also necessary to maintain some perspective here, even as this Ashes tour continues its ongoing real-time collapse. The Boxing Day Test was preceded by two important events. One was the emergence of clear evidence that a slurry Duckett did not know how to get back to his hotel late one evening in the seaside resort England insisted he visit when 2-0 down in the series.
The other was Rob Key’s pre-match State-of-the-Nation speech in the bowels of the MCG, a disjointed performance that seemed to fall apart even as the words emerged, with the feeling towards the end that an international sports team was being controlled by a pile of cardboard boxes with a hat on top, a complex two-month tour planned by the administrative equivalent of a well-meaning jar of marmalade.
One of these is a real macro-level failure that must now be held to account. The other, Duckett, Bethell dancing in a club, is shrapnel, fallout, the bits on display in public. But both were linked to England’s batting failure here.
Key spoke this week about “creating an environment” where players like Bethell can succeed. Oh yeah? With this in mind, you wondered how different an environment designed just for him would be failure would watch? Blindfold him? Replace his bat with a sourdough baguette? Send him away among the ants?
No rational judge could seriously expect Bethell to succeed here, as number three on the pitch from hell, having been restricted to three proper red-ball games in the past twelve months on management’s orders. Apart from that, it seems, from Key, who seemed optimistically confident that Bethell was prepared and ready to appear in front of more than 90,000 people at the MCG. Melbourne is currently a place of festive barbecues. This was definitely the king of them all.
First up was Duckett, star of Lost in Noosa. The England openers came into bat in mid-afternoon after the bowling attack had bowled Australia out for 152, a typical example of the after-party celebration. Scrooge is at the door with a giant turkey. Unfortunately, however, it is Boxing Day. And Tiny Tim is already dead.
There was a vague, omen-based hope that Duckett would get a score. His collapse in form coincided with him being told to stop saying things about energy and feelings at press conferences. Meanwhile, the magic dust has disappeared. They shaved Aslan’s mane. Who knows, maybe hitting the mute button is actually good for him.
There was a pause at the border, a look towards the sky, that determined, unyielding step, the walk of a pleasantly spirited forest creature who wears a vest, drives a car that looks like a shoe and drinks tea from a thimble. He lasted five balls. The dismissal was strange, a full ball from Mitchell Starc spooned towards the middle in a slow mocking arc. Openers that come out in a strange way are often a sign that something is messed up.
It got Bethell in trouble. He looked good, poised, confident, collar up, good lines, one of those athletes where even the equipment just seems to fit well. An inside edge took him off target. But he was the next to leave Michael Neser behind. England were eight for two and crumbled again, supported only by a wild 41 from Harry Brook.
But there are two more things worth remembering. Firstly, Duckett hasn’t really done much wrong in Noosa. He seemed drunk. He apparently got lost. It’s not a good look. A weak, loose athlete is the easiest target. But it is also just a symptom of the fundamental laxity of this setup, the lack of guidance, care and boundaries. Why didn’t Duckett feel more pressured to avoid this situation? Where was the enhanced security at this point? Why, now that I think about it, did Key choose to take his own break elsewhere? What’s a better, more urgent thing for him to do on this journey?
The same goes for Bethell, who was previously warned in New Zealand, but is also 22 and waltzes around the world like a spoiled cabin boy. What is he expected to do with himself in this environment? Dancing with a happy and willing woman: honestly, this page fully endorses this lifestyle choice. Considering the dark world available to young men, any evidence of social skills, leaving your room, the ability to connect with other people in a pleasant way, this is all fine.
Bethell’s problems are instead the terrible husbandry, the fundamental strangeness of what he has been asked to do this year. The same goes for Duckett, who was in world XI form at the end of the Test summer but has since played a series of random games, lost his rhythm and has an average of 14 in his last 21 innings against white ball, Hundred ball, pink ball and elite Aussie opening attack.
Bethell has clearly been hung out to dry. It is absurd that last winter looked good in New Zealand, followed by 34 T20 matches and almost zero red ball. This isn’t just a lack of practice. It’s talent vandalism, a brake on his progress.
This test can now be put to rest. The MCG was a chilly place at the start of the game, blue skies overhead and the outfield a melancholy, mulchy green. By most accounts, the field will improve. All English batters still have a chance. But here again there was the feeling of a team being sent into battle by a regime that confuses ripping up the rules with simply not doing your homework.
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