Handshakegate proves hypocrisy is the bedrock of great Test cricket

In the very next breath, Ponting praises Duckett for not doing what he would have done, saying, “I think I like him more now for not reacting to that.” These two statements, side-by-side, seem like a contradiction, especially from the mouth of a man who is no stranger to pushing the boundaries of cricket etiquette. Ponting is in opposition with himself. And that is not a criticism in the slightest; it just encapsulates why everybody is so worked up by India’s tour of England, and why that sets up a terrifically tense Ashes series in Australia from November. Spiteful flashpoints, like the one that turned the final hour of the fourth Test at Old Trafford into international headlines and rolling hot takes, drive cricket enthusiasts to the margins. To adopt a fixed position at one end of the spectrum or the other, guided by an internal moral compass rooted in the laws of cricket or the spirit of cricket, or some other subjective code to live by.

The thing about the moral compass, however, is that the needle so often rotates when circumstances demand it. This regularly results in accusations of “hypocrisy”. From England to India for time-wasting. From India to England for tantrum-throwing. From Jonathan Trott to India for being a “milestone-obsessed country” (less than two days after Joe Root overtook Ponting in the all-time runs list to sit behind only Sachin Tendulkar). Australia, meanwhile, are having quite a bit of fun at England’s expense, highlighted by Mitchell Johnson’s declaration that the Anderson–Tendulkar Trophy “isn’t a handshake convention”. Michael Clarke leads his Test team off the field during the 2015 Ashes at Trent Bridge. Credit: Philip Brown But cries of double standards aside, all three teams are more similar than they’d like to admit. Had Shubman Gill been tired and injured like Ben Stokes, he’d maybe have liked to end the match early too (no suggestion of a similar meltdown). And Justin Langer predicted, “If it were Ben Stokes whose young teammates had the chance to score a Test 100, he would have done the exact same thing.” It is difficult not to see Australia adopting both positions if it suited. The only point being that hypocrisy is a symptom of emotional over-investment, and shows the players care so much about disagreeing with an opponent that they are willing to disagree with themselves. It is the opposite of going through the motions, which is the antithesis of boring. And that has ensured, in Langer’s words, “Test cricket still has that hard edge” on the eve of the Ashes.

The funniest part is that the “hard edge” may be brought by England, a team developing a reputation more resembling what Australia used to be. No team played the moral high ground better than the previous iteration of Australia, the masters of instigating conflict, needling an opponent until they finally retaliate and then claiming maltreatment. Old enemies: Faf du Plessis and David Warner. Credit: Getty In the words of Nathan Lyon, they played the game while “headbutting” the line between aggression and transgression. As Johnson wrote in The Nightly last week: “Let’s not pretend Australia are choirboys”. England all-rounder Moeen Ali, in his 2018 autobiography, named Australia as the only opponent he ever disliked, citing their “disrespect of people and players”.

There was the Chappell underarm delivery of 1981. And Langer and Brad Haddin both “accidentally” knocking the bails off just before their teams tried to claim wickets. Loading Then there was Steve Waugh v Curtly Ambrose. Dennis Lillee v Javed Miandad. Glenn McGrath v Ramnaresh Sarwan. David Warner v Joe Root. Warner v Quinton de Kock. Warner v Faf du Plessis. Warner v The World. During a 2014 series in Cape Town, Du Plessis likened Michael Clarke’s Test team to “a pack of dogs” for the way they swarmed around an opposition batsman in the field. The South African was also taunted about his ball-tampering charge by none other than Warner. Australians loved to hate Warner, though we also loved to cheer him to a double century in his 100th Test on Boxing Day 2022 (hypocrisy?).

And of course, there was Sandpapergate, and Langer took over from Darren Lehmann and started talking about the importance of being a good bloke, which was perhaps a variation of New Zealand’s no-dickhead policy and which brings us to England under Brendon McCullum. The architect of Bazball told the keepers of the spirit of the game from time immemorial that they are “too nice”, and so they “piled into” India during that controversial fourth Test finale. “I’ve had a lot of compliments,” said chief antagonist Harry Brook. “Everybody says it was awesome to watch, and it looked like there was 11 versus two out there when we were fielding, and it was good fun. It made fielding a lot more enjoyable.” It was not in keeping with McCullum’s nice-guy status as a player, nor was it in keeping with his recruitment of Gilbert Enoka, the All Blacks adviser who made famous their no-dickheads policy. Some would call this hypocrisy, too; Cricket Australia chief executive Todd Greenberg would call it “talkability”. A similar phenomenon occurred two years ago when the last Ashes series was in full flight in England. In Australia, their women’s football team were preparing to play the Matildas in the World Cup semi-finals, but most travelling British journalists couldn’t tear their minds away from the cricket.

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