A new Ashes world awaits England after Adelaide’s mid-life crisis

When England’s cricketers walk onto Adelaide Oval on Saturday afternoon Australian Central Daylight Time, they’ll enter a new Ashes world. Cricket doesn’t so much have revolutions as fine gradations of change – the thickness of a bat here, the length of a game there. Playing Test matches at night with a different type of ball is the sport’s equivalent of the sack of Rome. After the tensions of the past week, we know who England see as the barbarians.

Adelaide is a ground whose midlife crisis is complete. First came appearance, from foundational renovations to surface makeover. Then came new friends, new ways of thinking. Yoga classes and nice cafes and hanging with a younger party crowd. Some of its old mates still drop by, but they stick to their corner, and at least they’re hosted in a nicer environment. Last Ashes, the grandstands were a construction site, while now they’re finished and ready to bewilder England supporters trying to work out who Max Basheer is.

Back in the day, it was more like the Adelaide Oblong; that weird lozenge shape on television screens where batsmen could pick up six from a cut shot and run five from an on-drive, or where the straight boundary was brought in so far for Mercantile Mutual games that there was room for a subdivided a block of units between rope and pickets. A place where everything was named after strands of the Chappell family, and blokes as old as Victor Richardson clustered in low pavilions; where Clarrie Grimmet had ripped out wickets at better than eight per Test and Gilbert Jessop once hit a ball into the river.

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Grimmett notwithstanding, it was always a place for runs. Ricky Ponting hauled in 1,743 of them over his Test career. Michael Clarke scored seven hundreds, averaging 94. Take a look at Ashes past – both sides made 500 in 2006, before Shane Warne worked through England on the last day. Kevin Pietersen’s double in 2010 drove England past 600 to an innings win. Last time, Brad Haddin boshed a century while Australia declared at 570.

Then suddenly, there was this other thing. Pink balls, evening sessions, a grassy pitch with 50,000 spectators, and literally overnight the very nature of the contest changed. Extra grass on the wicket to protect the ball, along with a lusher square, and it’s now a game for seamers. Movement can resurrect as the pitch livens up at night, while reverse is hard to find. Adelaide will defy the memories of those Englishmen who’ve been before.

That first day-nighter in 2015 had the strangeness of dreams. Walking to the ground past pubs already full. The ball’s preternatural glow in afternoon gold. A sunset sprawled in matching pink and livid blue, while players in whites glowed under floodlights. Mitchell Starc’s injury irrelevant, as Josh Hazlewood had conditions to do the job of two. Trent Boult swinging New Zealand’s riposte. Edges and cordons, tension, no boredom. Teams that had been trading double-centuries on a Waca pancake scrabbling to get that many runs between 11. The best of the match was 224, and Australia barely chased 187. Peter Siddle wearing a Biggles moustache and Starc wearing a moonboot, scrambling the last few required.

Year two, with the mower set two millimetres shorter, the ball still moved appreciably. Again, Australia were batting by the first night despite losing the toss, this time because of Faf du Plessis’s tactical declaration. It didn’t work, but only because Usman Khawaja made the hundred of his life, putting away his pet cover drive before batting across three days for 145. South Africa twice topped out around 250. Land it full and make it move: the new pitch requirements have brought bowling on this continent back to life.

Not to mention making Chadd Sayers the country’s best pink-ball exponent, and prolific in Adelaide. He’s not tall or fast, but has 87 first-class wickets in 19 Oval games, including roasting the Australian captain a few weeks ago. “It’s about challenging the batsmen’s defence,” he said in the lead-up to the Test. “They hate the swinging ball, so if you pitch it up and challenge their defence 100% of the time, they have to make a decision. A good ball is a good ball to anyone.”

All of which is anathema to Australia’s management, for whom bowling’s natural state is halfway down the track at 150 kilometres per hour. For the second year running, Sayers was in the final 12 but couldn’t get a start. He gamely tried to appear upbeat before the team was picked, but a few forlorn edges poked out. “Mixing cordial isn’t what I want to do,” was his summary.

For all the talk about bowling, there are runs to be had. Khawaja showed what discipline can do. Curator Damien Hough said this pitch will be drier than last year, prepared early to avoid rain. If the ball gets scuffed and soft, things change quickly. Look at Australia’s other pink-ball outing, on a less grassy wicket in Brisbane last year, where Pakistan nearly chased down a world record 490. They batted through three evening sessions: one featured an eight-wicket collapse, but their second was worth 2 for 70, and the following night yielded 3 for 183.

In truth, this format’s body of evidence is too small. The home side is considered expert having played three games. So an Australia team marginally more experienced in the conditions will tackle an England team whose approach seems better suited to them. If this is to be a historical turning point for the visitors, they simply must make the most of that opportunity.