Dabout Bradman was the subject of the first adult book I remember reading. In the mind of a primary school student, the injustice of an English captain ordering his compatriots to hurt a brilliant Australian was unfathomable. And so I, like many, began to hate England.
Looking ahead to the Ashes? It speaks for itself. Cricket’s calendar makes this a rare treat to watch two of the world’s best teams test, taunt and tease each other for what we hope will be 25 days of interrogation with the red Kookaburra.
As Ian Botham reminded us last week at the launch of voting for the 2027 150th Anniversary Test, the Ashes has a unique appeal. “Historically, everyone in the cricket world watches the Ashes,” he said. “It’s the tradition, it’s the competition, you know that’s all flat out.”
In England, these two recently signed series – marked by Steve Smith’s mountain of runs and Ben Stokes’ Headingley masterpiece in 2019, and the Lord’s Long Room disgrace of 2023 – have lived up to expectations of what an Ashes match should be. However, they haven’t had the same cultural impact on the other side of the world, when half of Australia falls asleep before the end of the lunch break.
In home tests, the Ashes has been less flat than just flat for more than a decade. Australians expect their team to win and win easily, as has been the case since the 1990s. Scott Boland’s 6-7 at the MCG was not achieved in a blaze of competition, it was an English tragicomedy that confirmed a worldview. A real rivalry shouldn’t be this way.
Cricket’s town criers must now hunker down by the dwindling embers of the Ashes and whistle oxygen, hoping to rekindle the flame. The England team were met in Perth by a tired headline on the front of the local tabloid, “Baz Bawl”, supported by a description of the widely respected Ben Stokes as “cocky”. The newspaper then tried “Average Joe” Root, also known as “Dud Root Down Under”. It was enough to spark a predictable Fleet Street response, allowing the media to squeeze out what was left in the days before the first ball was bowled. (May I recommend the Guardian’s 100 best players in Men’s Ashes history?)
In contrast, the Border-Gavaskar Trophy between Australia and India last year made a difference in itself. The spiritual highlight was that MCG experience, a memory that cannot be extinguished. The statistics were also overwhelmed. 838,000 attended the five Tests, the fourth highest number for any series in Australia and the highest for any non-Ashes match. The audience was enthralled, similar to the TV bump during India’s tour of England this year, and eight sessions averaged more than two million television viewers.
In recent weeks, Rohit Sharma and Virat Kohli’s emotional, albeit unofficial, farewell at the SCG made one-day cricket really mean something. Compare the headline after the last time England came here for a white ball tour: “Record-low MCG crowd for Australia-England ODI raises fears for future of 50-over format”.
Although rain ruined the T20 series with India, the play we saw suggests Australia is a long way from the global benchmark of the short form. In women’s cricket, the home team defeated the defending champions at the World Cup last month. The multi-format series starting in Sydney in February-March is poised as a de facto world championship.
It is easy to dismiss the adoring blue, orange and green crowds that flock to India’s matches – and not just the Tests – as a simple reflection of the vast diaspora of the world’s most populous country. But for bean counters and television executives, they are an elixir.
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The world’s largest democracy now means more to Australia than to its motherland, as the countries share an ocean, colonial parallels and increasingly their peoples. India is set to overtake the UK as the source of the largest group of foreign-born Australian residents as early as this year, according to ABS migration data. The failing Aukus relationship is leading to a recalibration of defense interests, taking into account the growing influence of Asian powers, a shift that has happened long ago in the world of cricket.
Greg Chappell, the former Australian captain and India coach, said last week that England are “our biggest traditional rivals” but also that “to be honest, cricket wouldn’t be the same without India”.
Until Australia won the Border-Gavaskar Trophy last summer, India had held it for a decade. Australia has not won on the subcontinent for more than twenty years. Even if the home side were to easily regain the Ashes this summer, losing the five-Test Border-Gavaskar Trophy in India in early 2027 would leave the Cummins era unfulfilled.
That elusive victory in the subcontinent remains the final testing ground for this generation, and a setback against England this summer – due to an unfortunate bowler injury, as in 2005, and Glenn McGrath’s freak rolled ankle – would only enhance the story.
The tourists haven’t won an Ashes Test in Australia for almost 15 years, and no matter how rich the lore, a one-sided match can’t last forever. So with flashy, compelling India having only just flown away, Ben Stokes’ players have a lot to play for. Win the series and stay relevant. Or you lose the urn and with it something that cannot be regained: the claim to Australia’s greatest rivalry. Please England, just be good.
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