Andy Flower is a colossus. All five feet nine inches of him. He doesn't need humble bulk to dominate. Less than two months ago he was splitting his time between a radio and television commentary box, watching his team-mates compete in a one-day triangular with India and West Indies.

It was the first time he had ever commentated, because it was the first time he had missed a game in his whole international career – 172 one-dayers and 52 Tests up to that point. But there was no escaping the dislocated and torn ligaments in his right thumb.

"The doctor says I might be fit for South Africa [then just seven weeks away] but I will be. I know I will be," he said with cold steel in his eye.

"They have humiliated us in the three Tests we've played so far and none of us – especially me – have done ourselves justice. I want to put that right. I will put that right. I will."

Flower was better than brilliant today. When Shaun Pollock moved a man from cover to make two gullies, a deliberate statement that Flower was vulnerable there, Flower turned the very next delivery straight into the gap and strolled a single, pausing to thank Pollock.

He smashed Jacques Kallis for a blistering boundary and then, daringly, uppercut him for four next ball. Kallis, angered, bowled the third delivery in exactly the same place but faster than any other in the match. Flower left it, grinned again at Kallis, and then quickly offered the back of his helmet to the bowler's riposte.

Andy Flower didn't just want to score a lot of runs, he wanted to get under South Africa's skin. He succeeded, and that will have given him as much pleasure as his tenth Test century.

Reverse-sweeping, uppercutting, whipping off-stump deliveries through midwicket and driving leg-stump deliveries through extra cover, Flower was making the firmest two-fingered statement one man can in a team game.

Such was the impact of his first-innings century that when he reappeared at the crease during the follow-on a mere 53 playing minutes after his first dismissal, South Africa cold-shouldered him. No small talk was exchanged, no eye contact was made, and virtually no attempt was made to dismiss him with wickets falling so sweetly at the other end. A colossus indeed.

Neil Manthorp is a leading freelance cricket writer in South Africa.

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