I shouldn’t have watched … My part in Australia’s downfall

Australia’s Nathan Lyon, No 67, drops the ball and a run-out of England’s Jack Leach goes begging at Headingley. Picture: AP

Physicists call it “the observer effect”, the theory that the mere observation of a phenomenon inevitably changes that phenomenon. I call it a complete pain in the arse.

Regular readers might recall I wrote recently of the anguish I put myself through trying to watch the Ashes cricket on television, reassuring myself that whether I watch it or not, the outcome will be the same. That is the sane, rational approach. I now know it is a complete load of bunkum.

It starts like this. It’s the fourth day of the third Ashes Test at Headingley but I’m well aware the final day won’t be necessary. So it is all down to the next few hours. I’m dying to watch but I know that England captain Joe Root, after a horror run of outs, is threatening to break through for a well-deserved century. If he does, of course, it will threaten Australia’s headlong march to victory and, indeed, the Ashes themselves. So I give the bowlers the best chance I can by doing the sudoku.

But the monitoring process is unrelenting and I quickly realise that Root has added only two runs to his overnight score before being caught by David Warner off Nathan Lyon — a truly wonderful piece of athleticism from the fieldsman, I later realise. Surely the England captain was the main obstacle to an Australian victory. So what harm could it do now, just to take a little peek? Just till lunch …

In that pre-lunch session Australia bowled as erratically as they have done all this English summer. They were dreadful. Balls spearing down the legside. Hell, balls spearing down the offside. Warner had taken six wonderful catches in the match but even he wasn’t prepared for James Pattinson going all Steve Harmison on him, sending a rocket straight at him at first slip. He got himself into a tangle, the ball swept straight through his legs and scuttled down to the fence for four. Seriously?

Even the miserly Josh Hazlewood seemed to be losing the plot. David Gower, in the commentary box, asked his scorer how many runs had been scored in the past four overs, fully knowing the answer. “36!” he cried in mock amazement. “Surely not. Not in a match when runs have been so hard to come by.” Bastard!

Lunch couldn’t come quickly enough. If Australia were to have any chance, I needed to stop watching and headed to bed. I tossed and turned for the 40 minutes of the lunch interval and then the monitoring process began anew, but furtively, because the phone police were active this night. Wickets fell. Reassuringly. I dozed but after an hour or so, I finally fell into a deep sleep.

I woke with a start. The Poms were nine-for, still needing 70-odd. It was all over for them. It was safe to watch again. There was no malign influence I could possibly bring to bear now. It was, surely, a victory procession. Yes, Ben Stokes was still there, on a century-plus but there was only so much protection he could give to No 11 Jack Leach. He had only lasted seven balls in the first innings before Hazlewood removed his leg stump and he had well and truly used up his quota of deliveries in the second dig.

Time elapsed. Runs came, sometimes with a rush. Stokes skied one to deep third man. That’s it, I announced decisively. Marcus Harris moved smartly to the catch but not smartly enough. He dived, never really looking like grasping it. Not did Warner out on the midwicket fence when Stokes sent one his way.

Stokes poked one out into the offside, set off for a quick single and Leach was down the track like the Energizer Bunny. Then he was sent back. Images of Lance Klusener and Allan Donald came rushing into my head as Pat Cummins tossed the ball into Nathan Lyon. All he had to do was catch it and remove the bails.

He dropped it cold.

“Did we just witness what I think we just witnessed,” asked Ricky Ponting in commentary, demonstrating that not everyone was dumbstruck by what had happened. I wasn’t taking notes but I was pretty sure Lyon had just dropped the Ashes urn, much like Herschelle Gibbs had done to the World Cup that time he grassed that catch off Steve Waugh back in 1999.

I had the earphones on, so even I didn’t hear it when I let out an expletive. But seemingly the phone police did because there were ominous stirrings from the next room. I humbly apologised.

But then, the very next ball, when Lyon trapped Stokes directly in front and umpire Joel Wilson took fright and shook his head, I couldn’t help myself and this time let fly with a string of colourful language. Why-oh-why had Australia wasted their last referral the previous over on an lbw appeal when it was clear the ball had pitched outside leg?

Replays showed that Stokes was as plumb as any batsman ever could be, with the ball projected to hit just over halfway up middle stump. And the umpire had said no. Seriously?

Four balls later it was all over.

I tried to view the bigger picture. An Ashes series that already has given so much was now tied up at 1-1 and would give even more. Next time Australia would have Steve Smith available. And Labuschagne. And had there ever been such a thrilling day of Test cricket?

But deep down I knew what this meant.

The observer effect had claimed another victim. I would have to ban myself from watching.