That glass box inside which Steve Smith does his work is built from three dimensions of oblivion. His concentration shuts out other people, so he is ferociously alone. With nobody outside, he is unusually candid in his mannerisms, so that at times we feel we are spying on an uninhibited, obsessive child shadow-batting in his bedroom. The third dimension is forgetting time, both past and future, no matter how traumatic or worrying.
When a fast bouncer from Jofra Archer hit him in the neck at Lord's on Saturday, Smith went into a momentary twilight zone. His mime artistry, which sparks so much fascination, became for a few seconds a horror show. His head flung back and he dropped, limp, to the turf. He went down with the expressiveness that marks all his actions on a cricket field. This time it expressed the purest fear of a young man in the instant of wondering if this is when he dies.
Several of the Australian squad were at the Sydney Cricket Ground on 25 November 2014, the day a cricket ball killed Phillip Hughes. Matthew Wade, who wasn't there, wears Hughes's face on his skin. The various masks these men must don to keep on playing cricket can only come at some unknown, delayed personal cost.
Smith has never been as eloquent or open on the subject of Hughes' death as he was in that split-second on Saturday afternoon. The airwaves, and the ground, fell silent. Lord's was certainly no place for the faint-hearted, and the faint-hearted, who might otherwise be called intelligent and sensitive to the miracle of life, might well have called the game off. A centimetre either side? Smith's return to Test cricket has had something uncanny, other-worldly about it. Was this to be how it ended? It doesn't bear thinking about.
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And it didn't bear thinking about. Smith moved a hand, then his head, and was soon on his feet. He already had an injured arm, thanks to the earlier blow from Archer which had led to the chaotic batting and snowballing bumper attack that resulted in this. He had shrugged off the doctor's inquiries then, and now he tried to shrug him off again, saying, 'I feel great.'
The doctor decided otherwise, and took him off for a concussion test. People clapped. People booed.
Steve Smith receiving treatment as he lies on the ground after being hit on the head by a ball bowled by England's Jofra Archer.Credit:AP
And cricket carried on. Having ascertained that Smith was alive, the hard men of the retirement brigade laced their commentary with reminiscences of when so-and-so marked out his crease with the blood of the man who had just left. The history nerds tried to compare damaging spells of fast bowling through the years.
Here's the only one they needed, the one they didn't want to talk about: Sean Abbott, New South Wales versus South Australia, Sydney Cricket Ground, 25 November 2014. Five years since Hughes's death, this game is not one step closer to reconciling its machismo with any overriding care for human life. It cannot, of course. Ban the bouncer? That would emasculate the bowlers. Ban danger? Can't be done, given that the next fatality is most likely a bowler, fielder or spectator hit by a T20 missile.
So instead, the game and the spectators construct our own glass box of oblivion. We forget instantly. We build a protocol of concussion rules, which Smith passed so successfully he was back out in the middle half an hour after he had been a whisker from losing his life. Was he concussed? No, but he didn't seem to be all there either. He hoicked his second ball over midwicket like beach cricket, and then stood in front of a straight ball, walked off before the umpire had given his decision, and threw a review request over his shoulder. Huh? Wasn't this its own concussion test?
Smith was booed off for getting out just as he had been booed off for retiring hurt and booed on again when returning. Some cheered, some clapped, and some still only saw a sporting contest, not the most chilling sliding-doors moment.
Five years since Hughes's death, this game is not one step closer to reconciling its machismo with any overriding care for human life.
For coming back, was Smith showing bravery or stupidity? Or just… cricket? The game's cycle of violence paused only briefly after Phil Hughes died, soon resuming and intensifying in Australian hands. Mitchell Starc has long been used as an agent of intimidation. Two days ago, Patrick Cummins bowled at Archer's head, and Archer's short-pitched reprisal on Saturday was first launched against Cummins, with Smith eventually caught up as collateral damage. Once Archer had hit Smith in the arm, he sensed the weakness that England have been seeking for so long and aimed Read More – Source
That glass box inside which Steve Smith does his work is built from three dimensions of oblivion. His concentration shuts out other people, so he is ferociously alone. With nobody outside, he is unusually candid in his mannerisms, so that at times we feel we are spying on an uninhibited, obsessive child shadow-batting in his bedroom. The third dimension is forgetting time, both past and future, no matter how traumatic or worrying.
When a fast bouncer from Jofra Archer hit him in the neck at Lord's on Saturday, Smith went into a momentary twilight zone. His mime artistry, which sparks so much fascination, became for a few seconds a horror show. His head flung back and he dropped, limp, to the turf. He went down with the expressiveness that marks all his actions on a cricket field. This time it expressed the purest fear of a young man in the instant of wondering if this is when he dies.
Several of the Australian squad were at the Sydney Cricket Ground on 25 November 2014, the day a cricket ball killed Phillip Hughes. Matthew Wade, who wasn't there, wears Hughes's face on his skin. The various masks these men must don to keep on playing cricket can only come at some unknown, delayed personal cost.
Smith has never been as eloquent or open on the subject of Hughes' death as he was in that split-second on Saturday afternoon. The airwaves, and the ground, fell silent. Lord's was certainly no place for the faint-hearted, and the faint-hearted, who might otherwise be called intelligent and sensitive to the miracle of life, might well have called the game off. A centimetre either side? Smith's return to Test cricket has had something uncanny, other-worldly about it. Was this to be how it ended? It doesn't bear thinking about.
Advertisement
And it didn't bear thinking about. Smith moved a hand, then his head, and was soon on his feet. He already had an injured arm, thanks to the earlier blow from Archer which had led to the chaotic batting and snowballing bumper attack that resulted in this. He had shrugged off the doctor's inquiries then, and now he tried to shrug him off again, saying, 'I feel great.'
The doctor decided otherwise, and took him off for a concussion test. People clapped. People booed.
Steve Smith receiving treatment as he lies on the ground after being hit on the head by a ball bowled by England's Jofra Archer.Credit:AP
And cricket carried on. Having ascertained that Smith was alive, the hard men of the retirement brigade laced their commentary with reminiscences of when so-and-so marked out his crease with the blood of the man who had just left. The history nerds tried to compare damaging spells of fast bowling through the years.
Here's the only one they needed, the one they didn't want to talk about: Sean Abbott, New South Wales versus South Australia, Sydney Cricket Ground, 25 November 2014. Five years since Hughes's death, this game is not one step closer to reconciling its machismo with any overriding care for human life. It cannot, of course. Ban the bouncer? That would emasculate the bowlers. Ban danger? Can't be done, given that the next fatality is most likely a bowler, fielder or spectator hit by a T20 missile.
So instead, the game and the spectators construct our own glass box of oblivion. We forget instantly. We build a protocol of concussion rules, which Smith passed so successfully he was back out in the middle half an hour after he had been a whisker from losing his life. Was he concussed? No, but he didn't seem to be all there either. He hoicked his second ball over midwicket like beach cricket, and then stood in front of a straight ball, walked off before the umpire had given his decision, and threw a review request over his shoulder. Huh? Wasn't this its own concussion test?
Smith was booed off for getting out just as he had been booed off for retiring hurt and booed on again when returning. Some cheered, some clapped, and some still only saw a sporting contest, not the most chilling sliding-doors moment.
Five years since Hughes's death, this game is not one step closer to reconciling its machismo with any overriding care for human life.
For coming back, was Smith showing bravery or stupidity? Or just… cricket? The game's cycle of violence paused only briefly after Phil Hughes died, soon resuming and intensifying in Australian hands. Mitchell Starc has long been used as an agent of intimidation. Two days ago, Patrick Cummins bowled at Archer's head, and Archer's short-pitched reprisal on Saturday was first launched against Cummins, with Smith eventually caught up as collateral damage. Once Archer had hit Smith in the arm, he sensed the weakness that England have been seeking for so long and aimed Read More – Source
