It was 5.28pm on day five when I knew England were not going to win the first Test against India. Ben Stokes had got out reverse-sweeping, India needed one more wicket and they were into England’s tail. There were still 69 runs required, the new ball was available soon, Jasprit Bumrah plays for India, oh and it was probably going to rain.
Almost exactly an hour later, Jamie Smith had hit the final ball for six and England completed the second-highest final day run chase in history to win.
The improbable had been made possible earlier that day by Ben Duckett’s considered, mature 149.
India were favourites on the final day right up until England made 119 runs for no loss. That is to say, an England win was the less likely outcome for almost the whole five days. Remember the end of day one?
India 359 for three with Shubman Gill and Rishabh Pant at the crease scoring runs as if it was the easiest thing in the world. I was working that Friday (cheeky) and not on the cricket but I checked the score with the classic sense of deflation that has accompanied most of my recent England-watching against India (live on TNT Sports with Finny and Sir Alastair).
By Saturday lunchtime, England fans were living in a new optimistic world. And so it continued: the hope, the agitation, the bafflement at another dropped catch, or Harry Brook’s charge down the wicket in his minute-long second innings. The emotional range graph induced by the five-day Test would look something like a course profile from road cycling or cross-country mountain bike, of which I am so fond.
And it made me think – is there an optimal number of switches in fortune that makes for the most compelling viewing experience in sport? Take the mountain bikes. In cross-country, it’s a mass start so the lead may switch around any number of times over the 80-or-so minute duration of the race.
But there are usually maybe ten people you really believe could win.
The favourites don’t, of course, always take it. Observe Ondrej Cink a few weeks ago winning his first ever World Cup at the age of 34 – mad. But the first hour is usually big hitters manoeuvring to fix up for the win. It’s fascinating, there are perhaps eight of those stomach-drop moments per race where you think: this is big. This is it.
Football is the sport with the most dramatic one-off reversals, because an entire game can be decided by a single action – that of scoring a goal. The headiest moment I’ve ever had as an England football fan was watching Jude Bellingham’s bicycle kick crash in at Euro 2024. All the air left the stadium, it was impossible to breathe. The emotional flip was unlike anything I’ve seen. But the match featured that plus two other goals, with the rest largely nervous drudgery.
Tennis – as Nicolas Mahut and John Isner can contend after their 2010 slugfest in SW19 of more than 11 hours ended in a 70-68 fifth-set victory for the latter – is well set up for stunning shifts of momentum and prolonged tension. Just ask Carlos Alcaraz, French Open champion after coming back from two sets down against Jannik Sinner.
And an argument should surely be made for road cycling by someone with a higher word count. With the Tour de France imminent please all write in and make that case.
Test cricket, when it’s on song, is a combination of drawn-out suspense and abrupt handbrake turns. You know the golden ratio that exists in nature? Actually first discovered at Lord’s, it turns out. Enjoy next week.