For every class act revered, there’s also a folk hero who is celebrated

Steve Smith did let out a “yessss” the moment he realised he’d placed the ball in the gap and could run across for a single to bring up his century.

He then proceeded to take his helmet off, shake his head a few times in characteristic fashion, compose himself and then start raising his bat to every part of a packed Gabba.

A largely muted response you’d have thought for bringing his longest barren run without a Test century to an end. The 33rd of his career. There was more relief than jubilation.

Then came his real reaction as he leapt in the air and swung his bat forwards with a mix of utter delight and probably a bit of angst. Accompanied with the kind of guttural yelp that you rarely associate with Smith.

This meant a lot to him. This meant a lot to his team, who stood as one in the dugout clapping for him. It meant a lot to the thousands of Australian fans packed into the multi-coloured seats of the Gabba as they stood as many, cheering and applauding one of the most popular Test centuries in recent times.

This was the class act of this generation putting on a masterclass, doing what he’s done so often at this venue and at all venues around this country. A display of grit, gumption and great skill. The best Australian batter of this era proving that he wasn’t just back – but more that he had never left.

Steve Smith celebrates his century on day two of the third Test at The Gabba. Picture: Getty Images

He’d also, of course, proven what I’d written about him in the lead-up to this Test. But this was less to do with my prophesying skills as it was about Smith finding a way, like he’s done so often in his glorious career, to break through barriers and produce a knock of great significance, both for himself and his team. Even if it meant making a significant technical alteration in the middle of a series and managing to find his hands and feet while doing so, like only the greatest can.

If Smith’s century was greeted with reverence from the faithful around the Gabba, Travis Head’s second consecutive Test ton against the Indians set off a roar around the iconic venue.

And even before the South Australian had taken off his helmet and placed it on top of his bat handle, patrons and punters alike were off their seats and showing off their love and adoration for the man who’s taken this country by storm. It’s not like anyone in Australia is ever sitting while Heady is holding court.

Unlike Smith’s belated leap in the air, Head’s now trademark post-century antics were expected. But it still led to a louder roar than the one that greeted him reaching yet another morale-crushing three-figure score against the hapless Indians, who he now averages over 50 against in Tests.

It was probably even better than the 140 he dished out in Adelaide last week. This was more brutal. This was more damaging to the Indian psyche. He wasn’t finding ways to play out Jasprit Bumrah, he was taking him on.

He was cover-driving the premier Indian fast bowler on the up for four. He was on-driving him down the ground to announce his intentions at the start of Bumrah’s next spell. He was air-lifting Bumrah over mid-wicket as he came back to bowl with the second new ball.

Australia's Travis Head raises his bat on Sunday to much fanfare. Picture: AFP

Every run Head scored on Sunday afternoon seemed and sounded more like a statement. That he was in control. That he had the Indian bowlers under his command.

At a time cricket’s popularity in this country gets questioned or challenged more than it has for a while, Head is the kind of player who can and who will bring the masses back.

Who wouldn’t pay to watch him bat on TV? Who wouldn’t pay to come to the ground to watch him bat? The man who’s redefining this era of Australian cricket. The man who’s writing chapters that will enter the folklore.

He doesn’t just have a fan club. He has a cult following.

For every class act who has been revered, there has been a folk hero who has been celebrated.

There’s a history of it in Australian cricket. For every Ian Chappell, there was a Doug Walters. For every Greg Chappell, there was a David Hookes. For every Allan Border, there was a David Boon. For every Steve Waugh, there was a Dean Jones. For every Michael Clarke, there was an Andrew Symonds. For every Ricky Ponting, there was an Adam Gilchrist.

And their 241-run stand under cloudy skies at the Gabba was the ultimate coming together of the two. The perfect blend of awe-inspiring and breathtaking. The perfect marriage of the flavour of an Australian summer, in terms of Steve Smith making a classy century, and the spice of an Australian summer, Travis Head doing what only Travis Head can do.