THE third degree finger burns from Headingley 1981 have long since cooled, and Ladbrokes scarcely thought twice about repeating their 500-1 quote against England yesterday lunchtime. The fact that no one was trampled to death in the rush to the betting tent was doubtless based on the assumption that there is no Bothamesque dispenser of miracles in this side - even though England's Ashes miracles have now been downgraded to losing in five days, as opposed to four or three.
However, it is high time we had another one, this time with Botham in the commentary box. Today Nasser Hussain will thrash another 200 runs before lunch, and Darren Gough, arms pumping and eyeballs bulging, will lay the Australians to waste with an avalanche of exploding yorkers. Then again, this scenario may come to an abrupt end by the sound of the alarm clock going off.
In the likely event of England still failing to save this match, you certainly can't accuse them of declining to explore all the tactical avenues. Having tried playing previous Ashes series with cast lists on the Cecil B De Mille scale, this time they have tried turning the team into an exclusive gentleman's club.
The selectors have also flirted with youth, which is such a sublimation of past instincts that, had they been in charge of the Old Testament XI, they would still be sending Methuselah on A tours. The next plan will be to bring Dickie Bird out of retirement to tap his direct line to black clouds and bad light.
``D'yer know?'' said Dickie yesterday, ``I were 'ere on Saturday when it were raining, and the crowd were shoutin', 'Get em out there, Bird! Get em out there!' And I weren't even oompirin'. I went to Wimbledon, you know. Not a ball hit!''
Mike Smith may put the current policy of continuity under heavy pressure, though it can't be terribly uplifting when you're not entirely certain that your captain is aware you're on the field. Craig White spent most of his Test matches failing to catch Michael Atherton's eye, and Smith, despite opening the bowling for Gloucestershire, has not been allowed anywhere near the new ball here.
Atherton, it is believed, will give up the captaincy should England lose this series, and it may be no bad thing if he does. When he inherited the job from Graham Gooch midway through the last home Ashes pasting, he was chirpy and as convinced as he could be that he would not allow the pressures to wrinkle his cherubic features.
However, there are now times when he makes his lugubrious predecessor resemble a song-and-dance man, and yesterday morning, when England's outcricket plummeted into vaudeville, his mood was so dark that he allowed himself to become involved in a verbal altercation with a disgruntled spectator.
As Atherton was climbing the pavilion steps for lunch, a middle-aged man wearing an MCC tie shouted, ``That was garbage, Atherton!'' The sentiment itself, Atherton would probably have agreed with - perhaps even have considered over-complimentary - but for a down-to-earth grammar school boy, abuse from an egg-and-bacon tie was too much.
He tapped the malcontent on the shoulder and snapped: ``Why don't you say that to my face, you MCC twerp?'' Something about Atherton's disposition told the twerp that this might not be a good idea, and the incident died as quick a death as at one time seemed likely for England until Hussain and John Crawley produced their rearguard action.
If Atherton produced a smile at all, yesterday, it would have been of the wry variety. Three years ago he was fined £1,500 for staring at his bat after being given out lbw, while what appeared to be a prolonged attack of rabies from Glenn McGrath, after a rejected caught behind appeal against Crawley, resulted in not so much as a slap on the wrist.