Craig Stirton takes a trip down memory lane to the final Test Down Under in the 2008/09 series.
It’s amazing how powerful the senses are. Taste a particular thing, or hear the words of a particular song and you can immediately be transported to a particular time in your life however long ago it may have been.
“You know that I can use Somebody. Someone like you”. The words of the Kings of Leon song blare in my ears as I do my morning training. It was as though I was once again sitting bleary-eyed in front of the TV, taking in the final day of the third Test between South Africa and Australia. The all-too familiar goosebump feeling runs over my body…
One man was solely responsible for this sensation. Captain Courageous, Graeme Smith. The man who epitomised South African grit and bravery. After breaking his hand in the first innings, and with the series already won – it seemed unlikely – and unnecessary – that the Proteas skipper would bat in our second dig. But throwing in the towel wasn’t in the big man’s nature.
Mitchell Johnson’s facial expression was priceless. When Andrew McDonald removed Dale Steyn, spectators and the Australian side alike thought they’d sealed a consolation victory. That was until the unmistakable figure of Smith emerged from the away dressing room at the SCG.
I couldn’t get the smile off my face – thrilled at Smith’s refusal to give the Aussies an inch. Full disclosure, the Kings of Leon track didn’t play on the day itself but rather in the documentary Wizards of Oz which celebrated our first-ever Test series win in Australia.
What followed in the middle was sensational. Smith winced and grimaced his way to within two overs of what would have been a draw for the ages. That Makhaya Ntini was called on to farm the strike – he faced 75 deliveries – should give an indication of just how dire the situation was. Nevertheless, full credit to Ntini for rising to the unlikely challenge of his role as senior batsman.
Smith meanwhile was nothing short of brilliant. He faced 17 deliveries and I distinctly remember being aware of my heart’s presence in my mouth. I lived and died with every ball.
Somewhere in Rondebosch, a 12-year-old boy, his brother and father could be heard counting down the number of deliveries remaining in the match.
12. 11. 10. 10… That was it. With one blistering yorker Mitchell Johnson shattered the hopes of a 12-year-old boy and indeed an entire nation.
To his credit, Smith commented later that that ball had his number, broken hand or not. It didn’t matter to me though, for Smith had given me a memory which would stick with me forever
Fast-forward more than a decade and every time I hear the lyrics of Use Somebody – or for 3:51 – the goosebumps and broad smile instantly return.
