England lost four wickets through the whole of Saturday and one of those, Michael Atherton's, to the first ball. In the six-and-a-quarter hours which followed only Mark Butcher, Alec Stewart and Mark Ramprakash fell. In the first two-and-a-half hours yesterday batsmen came and went like this was a game of Cricket Max.
Quite what the reasoning was for the umpires to overrule Hansie Cronje's keenness to claim the extra half-hour of play, heaven knows. The sun shone, the seats were full and the tense atmosphere was giving cricket a good name. The way that Allan Donald can slog and snick and the way in which the multi-talented Shaun Pollock can play strokes of rare quality must surely have suggested the possibility, probability even, of 34 runs being made in the eight available extra overs. The two wickets could have fallen at any minute.
Not that the opinion of the umpires much matters. The playing condition states that either captain may choose to claim the extra time and it does not make mention of the umpire. Funny how we all suspected a clause somewhere saying that extra time can only be allowed if the umpires agree there is a real chance of a result.
Anyway, whatever the right or wrong, going off at the scheduled close was absolutely in England's favour and absolutely not in South Africa's. The efforts of Darren Gough, Angus Fraser and Dominic Cork wore them out; this morning, they will be fresh, or fresher, and England are favourites because of it. They must win. It's as serious as that. To lose, having torn South Africa's top order apart and left them 12 for four then 27 for five, would be too galling.
Winning puts England back on the map. Losing will provoke scorn. Nobody wants that; there has been so much of it. All of England wants to smile about its cricket and to celebrate a memorable end to a marvellous series. The people want to be proud again, to natter in pubs about Alec and Athers and Goughie and Gus.
Mind you, they'll natter in praise of South Africa, too, and particularly about the Donald and Pollock partnership. That they finished the day together was merely the prologue, for to watch them bowl first thing in the morning was a bit special. Of the 11 wickets which fell in the first two-and-a-half hours, the first six to go were England batsmen and all of them to South Africa's new-ball pair.
They bowled fast and well, coaxing error from shocked opponents and giving nothing loose. Weary? Hardly, or at least they weren't going to show as much. These were two exceptional sportsmen throwing their life's work, their entire reason for choosing to be cricketers for South Africa in the first place, at the most crucial moments remaining in the series.
Barely less worthy and no less compelling was the wonderful innings played by Jonty Rhodes. He defended confidently, attacked impudently and ran between the wickets like a hare. Rhodes has been one of the joys of the summer. To see the back of him was, for a supporter of England, to embrace dis- appointment and delight in the same breath. You cannot begrudge Jonty, he is too intoxicating for that and he has given South Africa just a glimmer of light for today.