Australia were there for the taking but Brendon McCullum’s tourists were so poor and ill-prepared they never got close
As far as endings go, it ended nicely. People streamed on to the Sydney Cricket Ground, wanting to get close to the trophy presentation and to have a canter on the turf. Nothing thrills an audience more than a chance to walk the stage. On a sun-kissed blue-heaven day, the match had finished early enough to leave plenty of afternoon to spare. Later Usman Khawaja soaked that up with his own crowd of family and friends, on his last day as a Test player.
These endings are supposed to signal the close of something momentous. Another Ashes wrapped up, another chapter in the rivalry written. Still, once it was done, the whole thing felt like it had been more hole than doughnut.
It’s not because it wasn’t a close series; we’re past that, nobody has seen one of those in Australia in 50 years. This was more deeply about the quality of performance. The media caravan arrived in Perth after months of build-up, which is media driven but also driven by public interest. We counted down, we prophesied, we prognosticated, we cast bones and read entrails, we tipped coffee cups upside down, sourced skin of salamander and sketched the fine traceries of the wing of a bat. Finally, with all that done, it began. And 31 hours later, it was over.
