With his face hidden by the grill of his helmet, only Marcus Harris knows how he felt the instant the great Australian bat off swung his way. Australia A captain Nathan McSweeney â Harrisâs main rival for the vacant Test opening position â had just been dismissed softly against India A, caught in the slips for 14 in Melbourneâs mid-afternoon gloom.
As McSweeney turned and walked, Harris was almost too quick to put his head down, an apparent nod to the magnitude of the moment. He scuttled back onto the pitch, sacrificing at the non-strikerâs end a practice shot, then another, to the cricketing gods. By the time he strolled away and took off his lid, his face gave nothing away.
But it was clear he wasnât shedding a tear. Harris has been the next man up for the Australian team for years. He averages almost 40 in first-class cricket and barely 25 across 14 Tests. Good, but never quite good enough to lock down his place in the national side.
Indeed, so dry were his eyes a few overs beforehand, Harris had used drops to keep them lubricated. The 32-year-old gave up his previous focus on red-ball cricket this season, in a gesture many read to be an acknowledgement that his Test window may have closed. He turned to his own sports psychologist to extract the most he could from the last phase of his career.
Yet agency in cricket can be overrated. On Thursday, Harris watched his career prospects rise from the non-strikerâs end. He survived but hardly thrived against the Indian attack, doing just enough to accumulate 26 not out off 42 deliveries.
Not long after McSweeneyâs dismissal, Cameron Bancroft â the other veteran in contention for the place â pulled a shot straight to mid-wicket, and was dismissed for just three. Sam Konstas, the final contender of the four, survived until rain ended play early. Most agree the 19-year-oldâs day will come. But for Harris, the time is now, and the afternoonâs play sets up Friday to be decisive.
Before the late drama, the 200-odd cricketing desperados inside the MCG were forced to wait. The historic ground is an odd place while empty, its vast expanse nude but for two vast white sheets beyond each bowlerâs arm.
Watching this dayâs play almost felt like an invited invasion of privacy, some kind of Cricket Australia-endorsed voyeurism. Having the four players compete as teammates for the vacant opening position was cruel but compelling. Like Australian Survivor, with bats.
At one stage late in the morning session, McSweeney, Bancroft and Harris stood three abreast in the slip cordon. The interactions appeared cordial, but in circumstances such as these mountains shoot up from molehills. Bancroft wore the white floppy hat, but on either side Harris and McSweeney â the two widely tipped as favourites for the place â were wearing what looked like baggy greens already.
The captain had placed Konstas, who most consider to be no longer in the running after his failures in the weekendâs match in Mackay, in the outfield. With one rival out of the picture, McSweeney thrust himself in the spotlight, bringing himself on to bowl and with his quaint off-breaks removing Indiaâs danger man, Dhruv Jurel.
Despite the hype around the top of the Australian order, Jurel looms as a player who could yet have a bigger impact on the Border-Gavaskar Trophy. The backup keeper was brought to Australia early to acclimatise to the local conditions. He played three Tests against England earlier in the year, averaging 63.33 with a top score of 90, and some have called for him to be selected alongside incumbent Rishabh Pant. Jurelâs composed 80 will only amplify those calls.
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While the second of the four-day tour matches was expected to dictate the direction of Australiaâs summer, none foresaw its most immediate impact. Michael Neser, another likeable reserve who could yet provide vital in the five-Test series, limped off the field late in the Indian innings grimacing.
The fast bowler had rewarded those who had arrived early for the bat off, but were dismayed when McSweeney chose to field. Neserâs brutal first over almost delivered a hat-trick, and his opening spell appeared to cement his place as next man-up in the Australian bowling stocks. But after he hopped to a stop in his 13th over, what looked like a serious hamstring strain clouds the Australian summer.
In the end, this almost significant day belonged to the nearly man of Australian cricket. The so-called âbat offâ is a lightly comedic description of the four-way contest, deeply unsympathetic to what appears to be the defining examination of Harrisâs long career. To thousands of hours spent honing a craft, in nets from Perth to Melbourne and county cricket in England, and millions of balls hit.
Yet through all his peaks and troughs, slumps and spikes, there is a beauty in the simplicity of Harrisâ predicament: a hefty score on Friday will make him almost impossible for the selectors to overlook. May the bat off continue.
