The question was, how would David Warner cope with being the most reviled Australian since wotsisname from The Bachelor picked the wrong girl? The most evil villain since Wayne Bennett defected to England? As unlikely as it is that Warner would have had the inclination, let alone the eons of time, to absorb the personal abuse heaped on him since his fourth-ball dismissal on Saturday, even this most self-assured of sportsmen must have known that he had let down someone, if only the other 10 members of his team. His colleagues might have been luckless or clueless, but the vice-captain had been judged reckless.
Immediately, as Australia started their second innings 241 runs behind, Warner showed signs of resilience and responsibility, which were in even greater demand after the first-over loss of Joe Burns. The symbolism was heavy. For Warner to perish playing his "own game" would be taken as a sign of playing that game to the exclusion of all others, a breach of loyalty and a failure of character.
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Australia trail heading into day four
Australia still trail by 120 runs after a Quinton de Kock century and a Hazlewood six wicket bag on day three.
Warner has tried to convey maturity in the past year, but maturity is more than just putting a sock in it. He has wanted to let his bat do the talking, but in the first innings his bat had blurted out an obscenity. Now it was time for his bat, like his mouth, to talk a little less.
Make no mistake, over the course of his innings, Warner made a few. There were occasional wide swishes, any one of which would have looked culpable had they been edged. He nicked Kyle Abbott high to third slip, but Dean Elgar lost sight of the ball. More telling was Warner's grunt, picked up by the stump mike as he edged the ball: not a forlorn groan but a growl of self-recrimination. It was the most expressive thing to come out of his mouth in public for some time.
Taming his instincts, he survived. He was passing the test, leaving balls he would normally swing at and blocking balls he would normally drive. His major exam, after tea, was when Kagiso Rabada and Kyle Abbott repeatedly passed his outside edge or cramped his body. Play and miss, play and miss, block. Off strike with a defensive push. Warner was playing a Mark Taylor kind of innings, without trying to release the pressure by overpowering the bowlers, putting his ego to one side, scoring off the skinny parts of his bat.
Usman Khawaja, meanwhile, was also showing his resilience. Khawaja's commitment had been questioned as much as Warner's, over a longer term, on dubious grounds. Whatever the basis, these fellows had been depicted as lightweights, flat-track bullies who only put in when batting was easy. But nothing was easy about batting in grey light against a high-quality, probing attack on a still-juicy wicket. Khawaja was, like Warner, adapting his strokeplay to the art of the possible. This was the best cricket of the series so far, South Africa on top but Australia wriggling and squirming.
Frequent rain delays added to the challenge, and it was after one of these that Warner was bowled by Abbott, via thigh pad and armpit. It looked unlucky, but it had taken plenty of luck to survive that long. Khawaja kept going, in the company of Steve Smith, the only Australian batsman to master the conditions on Saturday again setting the example.
Australia's bowlers had not suffered the same derision as the batsmen, in part because, in the nature of cricket, their effort is visible. The worse a batsman's failure, the more he appears to lack commitment. Bowling is a more openly proletarian trade. The worse they are going, the more effort they have to put in.
That said, since the first day in Perth, Australia's bowlers had been as overwhelmed as the batsmen. Josh Hazlewood, irresistible when relaxed and letting his action flow, achieved less and less as he tried more and more. This was true across the board. Mitchell Starc was losing his loop as he flung the ball in frustration. Joe Mennie strained so hard for his first Test wicket, it hurt. And that was just watching. South Africa were running away with the match on Monday morning but eventually, after long slabs of toil, the wickets came. Mennie got one to pop on Temba Bavuma, and whatever else happens in his life, he has now played Test cricket and taken a wicket. Mennie was called, but few are chosen.
Hazlewood finally hit his lengths after lunch on Monday. He had not been lucky, with bails clearing the outside edge, but nor had he bowled with his usual consistency. At his best, he began ducking the ball about as late as Vernon Philander. Once Hazlewood uncoiled and trusted in skill and conditions, the wickets came, six in all, and just reward.
As the midpoint in this short series, this day was a kind of fulcrum for Australia. Standing in front of a truckload of momentum, they could either resist or let it roll over them. That they showed respect for where they were, that they played their cricket with humility, was one small step on the road back.
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