Ashes 2019: Nobody bats like Steve Smith, nobody ever has

Australia's Steve Smith celebrates reaching his century during play on the fourth day of the first Ashes cricket Test match between England and Australia at Edgbaston.

Shortly after lunch at Edgbaston yesterday, Steve Smith played back to defend against Chris Woakes. He ended up staring straight down the pitch, his toes on the crease line, his bat’s toe on the ground — squared up, as they say.

Steve Smith greets Australian fans as he leaves the field after his second century this Test.

Smith glanced around with an air of self-criticism, rehearsed the stroke again, then with one of those jazz hand gestures of his pivoted away to prepare for the next ball.

What was as instructive was the reaction around him. Normally when a batsman playing a stroke forms an unsightly shape, there will be moues of anticipation, gestures of annoyance, a soundtrack of ooohs and aaahs.

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Instead, nothing. Woakes was already walking back. Fielders returned quietly to their positions. The crowd murmured on. The acknowledgment was tacit but telling. This was Steve Smith’s world, a very particular batting reality. Opponents and onlookers alike were just living in it.

Nobody bats like Smith. Nobody ever has. That repertoire of unconscious gestures. That ravening for ceaseless rehearsal. That idiosyncratic backlift and grip. That kooky footwork, as though his legs are tethered together. That capacity for working the ball through seemingly-inaccessible degree of the compass, and for finding uncanny reserves of power.

Justin Langer tells a story against himself, that the first time he took Smith to the nets as Australian batting coach, nine years ago in New Zealand, he gaped. You put the ball there and Smith hit it…. “there?’’. Hell, the kid should try another sport. Turns out that Smith was in the process of bending the sport towards his way and his will.

Speaking at lunch yesterday, Langer’s confrere Steve Waugh declared that in all his vast experience he had “never seen anything like’’ Smith — “unique’’ in his technique, “amazing’’ in his preparation. He was speaking as an Australian, but also as a batsman, and there was a trace of awe in the voice of a man to whom awe does not come readily.

For England any such consolation was limited. How do you match up a sui generis player? At times Joe Root seemed content to erect a fence around Smith and wait for events at the other end. Ben Stokes bowled with a ring field with a single slip. Stuart Broad bowled wide of off stump with a seven-two formation. Woakes, a little oddly, hardly bowled at all. It was from Mr Micawber’s captaincy manual — an idea that something would turn up. Maybe Smith would lose concentration. Maybe one would keep a bit low. Maybe a wasp would sting him or the Barmy Army bore him to death.

Most of the time, however, England’s captain seemed powerless, his best bowler sidelined, his part-timers ineffectual, his wicketkeeper sloppy. Smith hit shots rare and delectable even by his standards: a powerful on-drive, a dismissive airborne shovel, two swoonworthy back-leaning cover drives.

Matthew Wade and Steve Smith of Australia pose at stumps after both scoring centuries yesterday.

Two-dozen fielders would have been insufficient to protect Moeen, to whom two reviews were of no benefit, and from whom two head-high full tosses were disquieting. Every now and again Root and his bowlers would peer dubiously at the ball, expected to provide them with such a keen edge, or peer over at the Hollies Stand, hoping for a benediction. Nothing was forthcoming from either source.

So on Smith went, adding one signature leg side single to another, adding every so often to the midden of discarded batting gloves in front of the visitors’ dug out, and all the while confounding. Nobody with a personality so tight should be so serene at the crease, or with a bat face so closed should be able to pierce the covers so easily, but Smith is and Smith does. The slowness of this pitch was assuredly no match for the speed of his hands, which could pick an umpire’s pocket or make a coin appear from behind a bowler’s ear.

It’s possible Smith crept up a little on England this summer. His reputation had been diminished by exile; his return had been jeopardised by injury; he admitted a few days ago to doubt that he would ever play cricket again.

He slipped during his suspension to fourth on Test cricket’s batting rankings. He finished 27h among run scorers in the Indian Premier League, 13th in the World Cup. Perhaps he wasn’t the player he had seemed.

These figures were deceptive, however. In the Cup, Smith was superbly caught at Trent Bridge and Lord’s, by Sheldon Cottrell and Martin Guptill respectively. When England played Australia here four weeks weeks ago, Jos Buttler ran Smith out with a throw that went between the batsmen’s legs. Perhaps Smith has already experienced his summer’s misfortunes — for his opponents a chilling thought.

The day was not Smith’s alone. First Travis Head then Matthew Wade took advantage of the shelter he provides for his partners by so influencing the field and rotating the strike. James Pattinson provided a timely spurt of boundaries, and probably not for the last time: he is an all-rounder in the making.

But at the close, there was no shifting the limelight from Australia’s champion redux. On the outfield in the shadow of the South Stand, Smith stood relaxedly by the Sky touchscreen talking through highlights of his innings, without, of course, dispelling the mystery. Best just to fall in, perhaps, and be thankful that it’s not your job to bowl at it.