Steve Smith makes a hero’s return out of the Ashes

Steve Smith proved once again his vulnerability as a human being is countered by his lack of it as a batsman.

Australia’s Steve Smith celebrates his century on the opening day of the first Ashes Test against England at Edgbaston. Picture: AFP

Was he always so fidgety?

Stuart Broad is one of those people who, for opposition fans, is more irritating for the fact it is hard to dislike him for too long. He does the pantomime villain thing on the field well, but when he speaks his spirit shines through. His assessment of Steve Smith following that extraordinary — redemptive — innings was a classic example.

Sorry to keep going on about that knock, but it was a return that will still come up in conversation long after this generation has passed. An emotional reconciliation after an equally emotional separation. The boy sailor reunited with his mum after being lost in a storm. The dog that’s made its way back to the suburbs after disappearing at a truck stop on the Nullarbor.

Broad spoke generously. He said England have to find a way to stop him early if they are to win the series, he spoke about his ability to find boundaries, manoeuvre twos, he noted his ability to find awkward gaps.

“He’s fantastic, I mean look at his record — what does he average, nearly 60 doesn’t he?” Broad observed.

And, yes Stuart, he has always been so fidgety. Sometimes a little more than others, but always, always fidgety. If he was a student he would have his knuckles wrapped daily. He would be the lad with ants in his pants, as a former generation of school teachers used to say, unable to sit still. No ruler could make him draw a line straight. No threat compel him to get his handwriting in order.

Steve Smith’s century milestones.

There is no batsman in the game like him. You don’t need commentary when he bats, his expressive jerks and gestures relate every scene and emotion with as much clarity as Charlie Chaplin in those flickering old movies. There’s almost a physical comedy about him. He is Basil Fawlty at his most excruciating, the AbFab girls when they’re drunk, Lano and Woodley when they are, well, Lano and Woodley.

He confounds the bowlers. On a number of occasions on that slow pitch he — eventually, for there are so many trigger movements — rocked back on the crease and guided the ball around behind square, placing it gently between the two fielders. It had a hint of tennis racquet with loose strings.

A steer of the ball. A hand in the small of the back suggesting, politely, it go in this direction.

Others might have rushed and fluffed the moment of intersectionality but Smith is a level above.

Broad noted Smith’s frustration when a shot doesn’t get the boundary it deserved and in a way that is the best of him. You can see his shoulders drop when the ball doesn’t come off the bat as it should. It’s a whole body sigh followed by a description with bat or freed right hand of the intention. A push of the palm toward the covers, a wave of the wand or the famous light sabre leave.

And he has a face that amplifies every emotion. Good and bad. That grief. God it was awful to witness. Those photos are so hard to look at. It’s only a game you tell yourself, but try telling that to him.

I could go on. He does. But as he said, there were moments he almost didn’t. It was a long time in the darkness for Smith. A lonely, slow, trip through the tunnel.

What is it about him that is so compelling, I keep asking myself that and I think it’s the vulnerability. He doesn’t just have his heart on his sleeve, he has all the organs of emotion attached to various parts of his cricket gear.

His vulnerability as a human being is countered by his lack of it as a batsman. Broad said they’ll have to get him when he’s not ready, make the most of the first 20 balls of his innings or they will not be getting that urn back.

You wanted to give him a hug when it all fell apart in March last year and you wanted to give him another one yesterday and say “god, I missed you”. Probably best you didn’t, might have been a bit awkward, but that’s Smithy isn’t it? Awkward. Vulnerable. Angular architecture.

That time in the tunnel was so difficult for him. It was difficult for all three of them, but David Warner had his family around him, his wife and little girls who he adores unconditionally. Cameron Bancroft has his own space on the astral plane with his yoga mats and Buddhist beads. Smith had Dani, the woman who fed balls into a bowling machine and married him last year, but as my colleague Gideon Haigh observed, it was he who fell the furthest. He was the captain, he was at the top of his game, he had a nosebleed average and the game was his all-consuming passion. It always had been.

The hardest part of that press conference was when he spoke of his father, Peter, the man who had spent every spare minute of his son’s early years feeding his insatiable appetite for cricket.

There were periods when the NSW cricket grapevine whispered concerns about where he was at and Smith confirmed after the innings that they had right to be concerned.

“There were times throughout the last 15 months where I didn’t know if I was ever going to play cricket again,” he said.

“I lost a bit of love for it at one point, particularly when I had my elbow operation and it was really bizarre, it was the day I got the brace off my elbow I found a love for it again.

“I don’t know what it was, it was like a trigger that said ‘I’m ready to go again, I want to play’. And I wanted to go out and play for Australia and make people proud, and do what I love doing.

“I have never had those feelings before. I didn’t have a great sort of love for the game and it was there for a little while. Fortunately that love has come back. I am really grateful to be in this position, playing for Australia again and doing what I love.”

An innings like that, takes it out of you. It takes a bit of effort to score 144 especially when conditions are difficult early. He was out there for 5 hours and 40 minutes. All that time with his pads on, but a little of it with his pants off — at one drinks break he dropped them to adjust something, became distracted and stood their the entire time gulping liquids with his dacks around his ankles.

Smith was emotionally drained too. He puts everything into his cricket and there was more emotion in this redemptive return than Hollywood could deal with.

The 24th century was one for the ages. One for the mantelpiece. The moment the sun broke through again.

There’s been a documentary crew following the team around since Cape Town on a retainer from Cricket Australia. They followed them through the summer and weren’t quite there with the story so they are here now too. You got the sense they were searching for an ending to wrap things up, but there was no obvious conclusion.

I reckon they can go home now. Finish with that shot of Smith celebrating and being received into the arms of his teammates as he comes off the ground. You don’t see many innings end with such emotion on the field or of the sheds.

Fortunately for cricket and for Smith that’s not the end. It’s just the start of the rest of his career.