Arriving at St George’s Park for the second Test between South Africa and Australia, one might have questioned if a match was truly happening. The local cab driver seemed unaware of the international contest, a sentiment reflected by the sparse, mostly Australian-clad crowd. A small group of locals stood out, wearing T-shirts depicting a weeping Steven Smith with the caption, “We saw you crying on the telly.” But maybe most of the good people of GQ know better than to get out of bed too early on a day like this. Miraculously, it seemed, the scene brightened considerably as those notes hit the clouds.
The morning began with Pat Cummins winning the toss and opting to field, mirroring his decision at Kingsmead. However, the weather quickly turned, as drizzle intensified into steady rain. Given the lack of wind, there were concerns the downpour would linger, reminiscent of Aiden Markram’s lengthy six-hour innings in Durban—an effort that ultimately proved futile as Australia secured a 214-run victory. In vain of course; Australia won by 214 runs. And with no wind to speak of it looked like it would hang around as long as the almost six hours Aiden Markram batted for in Durban, the dreariest drizzle strengthened into proper rain. Imagine Dennis Lillee and Ian Botham fraternising so flagrantly. Yet his name was not in the XI Temba Bavuma handed over to Cummins. As the players warmed up again — couldn’t they pop themselves into a microwave for a few seconds? — the grim greyness gathered again, so not everyone would have been disappointed that.
Before the rain halted proceedings, the pre-match atmosphere featured an unusual sight: Pat Cummins borrowing paint and a tape measure from the South African camp to mark his run-up. This display of camaraderie between opposing teams drew notice as a departure from the more combative eras of the sport. Meanwhile, the venue’s polarizing brass band began their performance 20 minutes past the scheduled start, eventually brightening the mood as the clouds began to shift. Which seems to be beloved and detested in roughly equal parts, sent their first efforts into the soggy air 20 minutes after what should have been the start of the match, the famous St George’s Park brass band. By the time the start was halted in its tracks we knew a few things.
A significant talking point was the omission of Keshav Maharaj, who was dropped from the South African XI for the first time in his Test career. Since his 2016 debut at the spin-averse WACA, Maharaj has appeared in 63 of 78 possible Tests, cementing his status as the primary slow bowler. While he was absent for a December 2024 Test against Pakistan in Centurion, that instance was due to an all-seam selection strategy rather than being dropped. This time, the team made a conscious choice to favor Simon Harmer. After all, it was his home ground for the first 11 seasons of his career. Who has tended this ground’s pitch and outfield for almost 30 years, appeared, then Adrian Carter. Thing is, that doesn’t count as dropped because South Africa decided to go all-seam and Maharaj was the only specialist spinner in the squad. That’s a seismic change in the way South Africa have gone about their business in recent years.
The decision to back Harmer is a notable strategic shift, though both spinners struggled during the Kingsmead Test. Statistical comparisons reveal Harmer holds a superior Test average at St George’s Park at 12.16 compared to Maharaj’s 23.87, though the latter has played seven Tests there to Harmer’s one. In first-class cricket at the venue, Maharaj has claimed 55 wickets at 20.25, while Harmer has taken 106 at 24.65, albeit having bowled more than double the deliveries. History, they tell us, is written by the victors.
By midday, the weather briefly cleared, with the sun appearing and officials announcing a noon start. This brought mixed feelings for the local Gqeberha community, as the Eastern Cape currently faces a severe water crisis. With residents urged to limit daily water usage to 40 litres, the city is covered in awareness posters highlighting the scarcity. As groundstaff—led by veteran curator Adrian Carter—cleared the covers to a soundtrack of highlights from South Africa’s WTC final victory at Lord’s, the unpredictable weather soon returned, once again casting doubt on the day’s play. Neither, it seemed, did many residents of Gqeberha — the spectators trickling towards the gates were, uniformly, dressed in yellow. Gradually, carefully, possibly too slowly, the covers were swept, peeled away and removed. And we heard the happy news that play would start at noon, the sun broke through the gloom like the yolk of a perfectly poached egg.
