Klusener's rush of blood ruins three years' work (18 June 1999)

18 June 1999

Klusener's rush of blood ruins three years' work

Mark Nicholas

There are the haves and the have-nots. You've either got it or you ain't. Shane Warne, demonstrably, has it. Australian cricketers in general have probably got it.

For a split second of unbelievable insanity yesterday evening at Edgbaston, Lance Klusener, who had it, lost it. Lost everything. A hero, this 'Zulu' warrior, this Klusener King, made a misjudgment of such magnitude that three years of blood and sweat, of careful selection, meticulous planning and of driven ambition went out the window.

Never can the game have felt more sorry for one of its own and, at the same time, been so non-plussed by his action. Never. The dressing rooms at Edgbaston are next door to one another, divided by the thinnest wall. The glass doors are six inches apart. Imagine the shock, the shock and the pain inside the room with the letters SA at its entrance. Imagine 11 men in green torn apart by such a breach of their honour.

Australia? Thrilled beyond doubt of course, but, within themselves, more desperate for the vanquished opponent than their public ruthlessness might permit. They will celebrate but not wildly, part because another enormous hurdle in this steeplechase of dramatic cricket awaits them on Sunday and part in respect for their opponents.

There was nothing from Warne like that obscene stuff when the Ashes were won at Trent Bridge two years ago, more a reflection of respect for the gut-wrenchingly marvellous match and for the beaten team.

Three years and three months ago Australia played in the World Cup semi-final in Mohali, India, against the West Indies. Batting first they recovered from the desolation of 15 for four to a defendable 207 for eight. Michael Bevan was part of that great escape too, in partnership with Stuart Law. Yesterday, in harness with Steve Waugh, he dragged his team up to 213, a modest but competitive total. This is why Bevan is a wonderful one-day batsman, not because of his average which people so decry but because he understands the short game completely. "Golly," or something like it, the Aussies must have thought after the efforts of Bevan and Waugh, "we've got six runs extra to play with this time."

Back then, in Mohali, Warne's personality tricked the West Indies to defeat. He took four for 36 and like a pied piper, led his team home by five. Yesterday he bettered it, coaxing four for 29 out of the biggest occasion, one on which the other Australian bowlers looked flat.

He bowled Herschelle Gibbs with a 'Gatting ball', Gary Kirsten with a tempting ball, had Hansie Cronje caught at slip - or possibly not said the telly - with a teasing ball and after a rest came back to con Jacques Kallis into giving extra cover a dolly.

In between the wickets came the torture. The drip, drip way with which Warne torments those who he senses are uncertain on his stage. The torture was so thorough that South Africa slid from 48 for 0 after 12 overs to the perversity of 59 for three after 20. Then came the run-out of Daryll Cullinan, from the pressure created by Warne's world, a mystical uninviting place where South African batsmen are terrified to tread.

There are more stories than Warne's to this great game. Paul Reiffel will for ever have a ripper of his own. In quieter, but no less relevant ways, so will Steve Waugh, Allan Donald, Shaun Pollock and Kallis. In time, when the slippers are by the fire, all 22 of them will advance the legend of the World Cup semi-final of 1999. For the moment we must say farewell South Africa, you have graced our fields. And look after Lance on the journey home, he'll need it.

Source :: Electronic Telegraph (https://www.telegraph.co.uk)