AUSTRALIA TOUR TO SA
Zaahier Adams|Published
Gqeberha’s weather had been as fickle as the tides at Kings Beach.
Dark clouds reigned supreme, bringing heavy downpours on the opening two days of the second Test. On the third day, the sun fought back and shone in all its glory, before the Friendly City’s notorious westerly wind showed its teeth on the fourth.
So, with the all-important fifth and final day looming, all the Proteas wanted was for the sun to reappear so they could take the six Australian wickets that stood between them and levelling the series.
But then disaster struck. The heavens opened once again, and the scheduled 9.45am start was delayed.
Suddenly, the greatest threats to South Africa’s hopes were no longer Travis Head’s bat or Scott Boland’s stubborn resistance.
For a team that had fought back from the depths of despair to find itself on the brink of a famous victory, the wait was agonising.
The Proteas had done the hard work. Captain Temba Bavuma had produced a career-best 179, Marco Jansen had ripped through Australia’s first innings with five wickets, and the visitors had been dismissed for just 99 before being asked to follow on.
But Mother Cricket has a cruel sense of timing. Just when the Proteas needed the game to move towards its conclusion, the skies over Gqeberha intervened.
The covers came on, the players disappeared from the field, and the dressing rooms became places of enforced patience. Every passing minute mattered. Like sand slipping through an hourglass, the overs were disappearing, and with them went the certainty that South Africa would have enough time to claim the remaining wickets.
The tension was palpable in the home dressing room. Even the usually stone-faced Proteas coach, Shukri Conrad, was beginning to frown.
He had watched his team wrestle control from Australia through determination and skill, only to find himself suddenly powerless, left to wait for the weather to relent.
For the bowlers, such interruptions can be particularly difficult.
Rhythm is precious, and Rabada, who had been preparing to charge in with purpose, now had to sit and wait.
Bavuma, having carried the batting effort on his shoulders, faced an entirely different challenge: keeping his team focused while the clock became an opponent in its own right.
Emotions ran high when the weather briefly relented, allowing the covers to be removed, only for the ground staff to hurry back into action when the heavens opened again.
The scheduled start time was revised four times before an early lunch was called shortly after 11am, with play set to get underway at noon.
There was now no room for error. The Proteas had watched an entire session evaporate before their eyes. Only two sessions — or rather, 82 overs — remained in the Test.
They could not afford to drift through the overs or allow Australia to settle into a comfortable survival routine.
Head made that task considerably harder.
The Australian left-hander compiled a superb 121, attacking when the opportunity presented itself and refusing to allow South Africa to dictate every passage of play. His innings was a reminder that Australia’s position, however precarious, was not beyond rescue if the Proteas allowed frustration to creep into their bowling.
But the real point of resistance was nightwatchman Boland. He showed the levels of patience and determination that Australians might wish Marnus Labuschagne possessed.
The overs were starting to tick away. The scoreboard mattered, but so did the clock, and the two were pulling the contest in different directions.
At St George’s Park, the tension was no longer confined to the middle. Even the brass band had fallen silent, as the growing sense took hold that the match could slip towards a draw.
Then came the moment the Proteas had been desperately craving.
Wiaan Mulder cramped Head for room, and the Australian opener, sporting a magnificent Magnum P.I.-style moustache, could only chop the ball onto his stumps.
It was a wicket of enormous significance. The door that had remained shut for so long was suddenly flung wide open.
Mulder was not done yet. The all-rounder was in the midst of a spell that would be remembered for years to come.
It may not have been as dramatic as Dale Steyn’s vein-busting exhibition against Australia on this very ground just over a decade ago, but it was every bit as effective.
Next on Mulder’s radar was Australian captain Pat Cummins, who could not keep out a missile that zoned in on his stumps.
But the Proteas still had to remain disciplined, resisting the temptation to chase a wicket with every delivery. With dark clouds gathering over the Western Stand once again, impatience could have been as damaging as the rain.
Instead, they kept asking questions.
And it was Rabada and Jansen who delivered, ending the threat of an unlikely Australian escape.
When the last wicket finally fell, the relief was about more than levelling the series. It was the release of hours of uncertainty, the reward for a team that had refused to surrender after a difficult start, and the satisfaction of completing the job under pressure.
Redemption after the Durban disaster was complete.