It happened in a way that felt organic, even though you knew that it was coming. Applause that started around the players’ steps in the Lord’s pavilion and spread across the ground, ripples reaching the edge of the pond. Once there it turned back inwards, building in volume, sound becoming a more manifest wave, lifting people from their seats row after row. For a few moments, the whole place glowed.
If you had predicted a standing ovation for Nathan Lyon before the second Ashes Test, it could only have been for his imminent 500th Test wicket. Instead he moved to 496 with the stumping of Zak Crawley, then hurt his calf so badly he has been on crutches since.
But with Australia 352 ahead on day four, he trailed Josh Hazlewood from the changing room, wanting to be at ground level when the ninth wicket fell. He came down one stair at a time, like a toddler learning the trade. Waiting in the Long Room, he ended up standing and yarning with Jimmy Anderson on a trip off the field, just a couple of professionals with their 302 Tests.
So the crowd anticipated Lyon’s coming, and soon Hazlewood headed back. It is cricket’s great paradox that we say we want to see the best play the best, but we love when those who can’t bat have to make an attempt. Beyond the normal limitations of the tailender, this was one who could barely walk. “Just bowl him a yorker!” exclaimed one of the camera operators.
There is a story to Lyon with the bat. Start in his first year, eight runs short of winning, last man out as Doug Bracewell flattens his stumps in Hobart. Lyon sinks to the ground. It became a refrain. Eleven times he has been last out in a loss, twice he has watched from the far end. Durham 2013 from on top, Bengaluru 2017 after his eight for 50, Adelaide 2018 on 38 not out.
That was why Birmingham to start the current series was so special. A partnership of 55, Lyon 16 not out, and the only time that he has ever batted in a fourth innings and won. That was Lyon playing against type. At first in Tests he was a conscientious blocker and nightwatchman. In time, claiming to lack confidence, he became a hitter who did little other than pull and sweep.
Maybe that’s why he so badly wanted to bat at Lord’s. A day of nothing but short balls and free rein to hook them? Irresistible. The limitations as he joined Mitchell Starc were clear: nine fielders on the fence, two batters who could only score in boundaries. It’s not like they needed runs, but they wanted more, and to take time out of the game with a bowler missing.
As that bowler, batting was the last thing Lyon could offer for the match. Or the series: if he had hope of recovering, surely he wouldn’t risk making it worse. It felt more symbolic than practical: as Tom Atkins wrote in the over-by-over coverage: “There’s a benefit on top of whatever extra runs they get; it’s the kind of display of grit and bloody-mindedness that gives the crowd and the team something to get behind; and it’s the kind of story that the Aussies like to tell about themselves. It’s box office in its own way.”
It was. The renewed applause whenever the crowd knew Lyon was about to face. The boos for dot balls as he middled shots to the fielders. Being hit in the body when the sight screen was out of place. The most eventful single imaginable as Starc hooked high to square leg, Rehan Ahmed shifting under it, staring skyward, twitching in anticipation like a puppy watching an ice cream slip atop its cone, watching it clear him, then diving backwards to tap it into the field of play – the only conceivable way that Lyon could have had time to hop to the other end.
There were the cheers when Starc hit a four, then a six, Australians standing again, then the whole ground erupting when Lyon hit a gap behind square, his one scoring shot for the day running triumphantly into the fence. A skinny underdog striking a solitary blow on one leg? Call him Daniel LaRusso. The camera operators grew increasingly furious in their row, proclaiming to one another the merits of bowling at the stumps in a way that Starc would demonstrate not much later.
When Lyon finally gave up a catch, England’s players patted him on the back, England’s crowd saluted his exit. Starc checked on him before racing off. They had added 15, moved the target to 371, a mark that only nine teams have bettered in a chase. However little those runs may be needed, the resistance will be remembered. Forty years later, the Karate Kid spin-off is still running.
