d'arcy waldegrave opinion

Flogged. The Black Caps got their clock cleaned last night through a combination of Australian magnificence, their own misfortune, self-inflicted wounds, and average application.  

It was a disappointing evening at Eden Park, to say the least. There were periods of joy, the admirable way the Caps dragged the Ockers back after their outstanding start. The way Glenn Phillips attempted to haul his team back from the brink with the bat was laudable. Ben Sears showed huge promise with a lovely touch of barely repressed rage. Lockie Fergusson appeared to be bowling with another ball on a different pitch against another team.   

The rest of it was a mess. Not helped by Conway’s injury and subsequent removal, the batting order was a dog’s breakfast. The Santner Clause being needlessly elevated to waste precious power play deliveries and Boult inserted early to distract from the fact that he bowled like a bloke who only rolls his arm over from time to time for money in sub-optimal T20 festivals. Clown cricket does not prepare anyone for an Australian onslaught.   

The first T20 gave us all hope. The 2nd gave us a brutal reminder that Australian cricket is to us what New Zealand rugby is to them. From time to time there is a glimmer of hope, but for the most part, the Black Caps are Aussies whipping boys, as the Wallabies are to the All Blacks.  

Things may very well turn around tomorrow, but the horse has bolted and now our focus is the test series.   

I hope the application of the Black Caps to what will be an extraordinarily intense examination of their skills is considerably less frantic than the panic-driven chaos of last night.   

The fan in me will always back our men. The realist in me knows that it's going to take something quite miraculous to dislodge the significant mental blockage that has continued to clog any attempts NZ have of reversing the distressing narrative of loss that seemingly knows no end.  

That’ll do. 

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Ok, I get it. There are people out there who are struggling with the legitimacy of the Black Cap's first-ever series win over the Proteas. Just don’t let that overshadow the achievements of Kane.   

The mid-stream quality of the touring party has been rightly questioned. South African cricket in its drive to survive decided that instead of defending an outstanding 92-year history, they would keep their best players at home for a T20 circus which would hopefully keep the financial barbarians from the gate. Instead of respecting the glory of the boomer of the game, they have kowtowed to the Gen Z mess.   

Progress hey?   

South African cricket deserve this blot in their copybook. Played with fire and burnt their fingerprints off. This is not an attack on the men who put up a reasonable scrap, but on the stuffed shirts that run the game in the Republic. Beyond that, the blame lies at the feet of the International Cricket Council who in time honoured tradition, spend their waking hours polishing the shoes of the Board of Control for Cricket in India.  

Until the guardians of the game show some spine in the face of the plague of T20 tournament locusts, this second-string touring group will become the norm in test cricket. Shame on anyone complicit in this clown suit cash grab.   

Aside that, the beauty of cricket is its numerical fascination. It’s a game neck-deep in numbers, a statistician's dream. Kane Williamson is currently the darling of the stat geek army. His figures of recent times are nothing short of staggering, his run of form and record-consuming antics make for a cricketing epoch that no one will forget, regardless of the opposition at various stages. Did anyone else score three centuries against SA in that series? No, no they didn’t. We are witnessing a low-key genius.   

So, rip on the Proteas all you want but find some space in your bitterness to recognise a true great of the game.   

Kane Williamson is a once-in-a-generation talent.  

Revel in it.   

That’ll do.   

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