Still, none of this much bothered Mark Butcher, who looked such a very good batsman that it now seems incomprehensible for him to have been no better than an evens bet to be picked at the start of the summer. A generous pat on the back for the selectors over this one because they identified their man and stuck with him even after a pair in Antigua had given his trip to the Caribbean a most disagreeable end.

Oddly, Allan Donald began by bowling around the wicket at Butcher which allowed the batsman the luxury of lining up the world's fastest bowler without having to worry too much about the ball that darts away to the slips. This tactic is a good run-resistor, a tactic which South Africa have used to great effect in one-day cricket, but Butcher likes to play the ball from close to his body so the angle of Donald's attack rather played into his hands.

The suspicion lingered that Donald chose to do this because he is not at his most comfortable against left-handers rather than because the left-hander becomes uncomfortable against him. It is unusual for Donald not to dictate - he did so later against Alec Stewart with brief but clinical efficiency - and there was a hint of a ruffled feather or two during his first couple of spells which lacked their normal spice.

No lack of effort, absolutely not, but possibly the great man was mentally off-colour, distracted by the shenanigans of the past couple of days when he has been the subject of attention for his thoughts off the field, which he dislikes, for he is a distinctly private person, rather than his performances on it, which are much more his thing.

His muted reaction to the refusal of an early appeal for a catch against Butcher suggested that the fine, the frustration in his duel with Atherton, and the memories of Trent Bridge in general and Old Trafford, too, had dulled his fire. Either that or he was an iota knackered after the amount of intense bowling that has been his responsibility during this hard tour.

Feeling you've had a raw deal is one thing, however, feeling sorry for yourself is quite another. South African sportsmen do not feel sorry for themselves, no way. They'd spill blood rather, which is why it was no great surprise to watch them strain at the leash and gnash away at England's heels until the succession of bites began to hurt and the victim began to give in.

In truth, their team selection rather gave their game away . . . this is where we stand, one Test each; this is where we are, Headingley the home of seam; this is the English weather unreliable and unlikely to burn the pitch to a cinder; this opponent is England, who are prone to collapse. Spinners are OK but, sod it, we'll play tough and pound them with pace. And looking at the scoreboard this morning you have to take your hat off to them, the most strongly charactered cricket team in the world.