Ross Taylor’s Last Stand: Kickstarting New Zealand’s Test Revival
A look back on the dawn before the darkness before the dawn.
The Black Caps weren’t always cricket’s ‘nice guys.’ For a while, we weren’t cricket’s anything. Before soft-spoken Kane, magnanimous World Cup heartbreaks, and Brendon McCullum prostrating himself before the Spirit of Cricket, there was another, surlier narrative. Kyle Mills sledging South Africa as 12th man during a World Cup Quarter-Final. Jesse Ryder’s off-field indiscretions. Brendon McCullum whipping the bails off as Murali left his crease to hug Kumar Sangakkara in celebration of his hundred (Johnny Bairst-who?). Shane Bond’s ICL contract saga. Jesse Ryder’s off-field indiscretions. Chris Cairns and Lou Vincent’s match-fixing controversies. The 2002 players’ strike. Jesse Ryder’s off-field indiscretions. “What do you mean you like cricket? Why?”
For the longest time, if you thought of us at all, it was probably for the wrong reasons. But, like map-makers the world over, you probably just didn’t think of us. Take this review of New Zealand’s 2012, which sums up the prevailing attitude: “…New Zealand are everybody's patsies: the uncool West Indies, the distinctly non-calypso island nation inspiring not so much mythologising indulgence as a fond indifference.” At least when the Aussie crowds used to chant “Hadlee’s a wanker,” it showed they gave a shit. But…fond indifference. Is there a more patronising phrase?
Something had to give, either via rebirth or utter implosion, as much of this ugliness came to a head with the Ross Taylor-Brendon McCullum captaincy saga, a civil war that threatened to tear the team apart. Ultimately, we know how that played out. Brendon McCullum became New Zealand's captain in all three formats, in a coup that time has been exceptionally kind to. Rebirth. From the ashes rose the original iteration of BazBall and a Golden Generation of New Zealand cricket.
That story, from the captaincy saga to the rock bottom of 45 all out before lunch in South Africa to New Zealand’s subsequent revival and WTC glory, has been covered comprehensively enough elsewhere. Except, retellings often leave out an essential detail: the revival actually started not in South Africa with McCullum’s captaincy debut, but a few months earlier. No, not in Hobart when Taylor scored a forgotten 56 (169) in the third innings to set up the chase, though this is where the seeds were planted. Nor even with some gritty draws against South Africa shortly after, when Kane announced himself with 102* (228), taking blow after blow from Steyn, Philander, de Lange and an especially vicious Morne Morkel spell. Williamson rescued the innings from 2/1 and 5/83, facing nearly half the overs (38/80.4) and scoring more than half the runs to bat out a draw. We still lost the series 1-0.
These Tests offered fleeting signs of life, but no, New Zealand’s Test cricket revival began in earnest during the second Test in Sri Lanka in 2012—Ross Taylor’s last stand.
I. The Ascent
Whenever a talented young cricketer emerges in New Zealand, you hear about them young. Uber-skilful schoolboy rugby players are a dime a dozen. Cricketers? They’re a little rarer. If you followed New Zealand cricket during this era, you probably heard about Kane Williamson when he was still 12. Maybe sooner. Some claim to know he was a batting prodigy from the womb. Many wanted him in the Black Caps by the time he was making his domestic debut at 17. “It’s not like he could do any worse,” they’d say, always in hushed, hopeful tones. It was difficult to disagree.
Before that, there were whispers of an unstoppable batting machine, scoring hundred after hundred as he climbed through the representative ranks. He didn’t have an average because no one could get him out, or so the rumours went. Ian Smith even mentioned a teenage Williamson on commentary during a particularly dire batting collapse, as if to reassure the public, “Don’t give up on this team yet; better things are coming.” Kane is an exceptional case, but his story is archetypal. In fact, history is currently repeating, with Xavier Bell drawing comparisons to Williamson at a similar age. Keep an eye on that one, you heard it here second.
This tale of talent identified young and steeped with pressure before their time echoes throughout the NZ cricket annals. From Vettori to Cairns to Paddles and beyond, it’s a well-worn path, refined to an art form over years of desperate practice. Ross Taylor was the first player for whom I can remember experiencing this ascension first-hand. And trust me, experience is the right word. Word started to get out about Taylor when he secured his first bat sponsorship, with GM, aged 13, before going on to average over 100 in that summer's Central Districts age grade tournament. From there, it was only ever a matter of time. “...The next big thing…” “...never seen a ball hit harder…”
After conquering age-grade cricket, Taylor made the Central Districts side in 2002, fresh out of high school. Shortly after, the hype-train kicked into overdrive when Rosco, still 19, slammed 132* (136) to mow down a target of 238 in a List A outing against Otago. Not quite a Bannerman, but in the ballpark. Following that innings, a headline in the Dominion Post read: “Taylor makes powerful case for Black Caps.” Just weeks later, they added that it was “a case of when, not if, [Taylor] will play for the New Zealand one-day side.” No pressure! Lofty praise for a teenager, though they didn’t yet realise it was a significant understatement.
The first time I remember seeing Ross Taylor in full flight was the 2003/04 State Shield (List A) Final—Canterbury vs Central Districts at the former Jade Stadium. Until then, I’d seen brief glimpses of Taylor—a cut here, a drive there—but highlights weren’t as readily available as they are today, so I’d mostly relied on second-hand accounts. I wanted to see for myself.
That season, Taylor had topped the run-scoring charts, racking up 511 runs at 73 with a strike rate of 103.2, to prompt the headlines I quoted above, and many others alike. To put that strike rate into context, none of the other top 10 run accumulators that season struck at over 100. Only one struck at over 90. Was this guy from the future? Taylor would seal his international call-up the following season, when he again topped the run-scoring chart (603 runs at 67), but for now, it was all eyes on his first domestic final.
I was scheduled to attend a friend’s birthday party the day of that final. Disaster. Even at that age, I would have rather been at the cricket. I’m sure I would have begged Mum not to attend the party, to make up a last-second excuse, but the presents had been purchased, and there was no backing out. Not even the presence of a trampoline and a good, old-fashioned sugar high dulled my nagging FOMO.
Serendipitously, the birthday boy’s father had the final on the living room TV throughout. None of the other children cared—some liked cricket, but not more than cake, presents, and video games—but I kept finding excuses to check the score. I don’t even remember the friend’s name these days (sorry, mate!), just Ross Taylor. Coming in at number three, he scored a blistering 95 (86) to help power Central Districts to a scarcely believable 354. No one will be surprised to learn the slog sweep featured frequently. Throughout Taylor’s innings, my score checks became more frequent, and my participation in the party more sporadic. I couldn’t believe my eyes; I was witnessing a cricketing revolution. I didn’t even care that it was happening against Canterbury, the team I nominally supported; this was transcendent.
If that all sounds a bit routine and unremarkable to your modern cricketing sensibilities, you have to remember that the first T20I wouldn't be played for another year after this fixture. The famous South Africa vs Australia 438 vs 434 ODI was still two years away. These barriers had not yet been shattered. As far as I knew, 300 was barely attainable in a white-ball game, let alone 350. At best, that was reserved for the elite teams, like Australia in the 2003 World Cup final, not us.
Rosco wasn’t doing this against some popgun domestic attack, either. The Canterbury bowling lineup that day read: Chris Martin, Chris Cairns, Chris Harris (there must have been a sale on Chris’), Paul Wiseman, Craig McMillian, and Warren Wisneski, all of whom played for New Zealand. Taylor didn’t seem to care. As Canterbury petered out to 255 (with a lineup that included the current New Zealand and English Test coaches, plus McMillan, Cairns, Fulton, Harris, and other famous names), I knew I’d seen the future of New Zealand batting, and his name was Ross Taylor.
Thankfully, on the car ride home, Dad agreed. But the look of concern on his face soon became clear, knowing I’d be practising my slog sweeps, not my forward defence, upon my next opportunity in the nets. We’d already been through this when I learned about the Dil-scoop.
“You know, he can only do that because his game is built on a solid defensive foundation,” he tried to add.
Yeah, yeah, sure. If you can play one forward defence, you can play a million. I had that down. This slog sweep thing, though? I want a piece of that. No doubt the Taylor effect was observed at U10s training sessions throughout the country, as Cow Corner got a serious workout. Worth it.
II. The Arrival
Taylor took a few more years to fully deliver on his promise. First, with his breakthrough ODI hundred, 128* against Sri Lanka in 2006 (unfortunately, Jayasuriya’s rapid 111 in reply put a damper on that party). Next, with a classy 117 against Australia to seal a rare Chappell-Hadlee series victory (I’m still filthy I had to miss the third game of the series to attend school camp).
Then came his breakthrough Test ton in 2008, 120 in a winning effort against England; a series better remembered for Ryan Sidebottom swinging the ball around corners and Tim Southee’s debut six-hitting blitz. A few months later, he backed it up with his first away ton, this time in Manchester with a first innings 154* in a losing effort. In the third innings of that match, Taylor was one of only three New Zealand batters to reach double digits, collapsing from 2/85 to 114 all out. Few things sum up the New Zealand Test side of that era better than a third-innings capitulation.
These innings all built the foundations of a legend, but none are the innings I really want to pay tribute to. Those would be Rosco’s 142 and 72 against Sri Lanka in Colombo in 2012, in what would ultimately be his final Test as captain. He was never going down without a fight.
Some readers might not remember how bad a Test side New Zealand were in the 90s and 2000s. I still fear this current era of relative success is a blip, and we’ll revert to the “Bad Old Days” soon enough. These days, opposing fans expect New Zealand to be competitive. That reputation was hard-earned. Back then, the cricketing world laboured under no such delusions. Throughout the 90s, our Test record read: 82 matches played, 17 won, 32 lost, 32 drawn. The 2000s were barely better: 80 matches played, 23 won, 32 lost, and 25 drawn. Fleming just barely held the team together with tactical nous and sticky tape. Then, Vettori had to do it all: for a period, our best bowler, our best batter, our captain, a player-coach, and probably the doctor and nutritionist, too. If he could only bat at four and average 15 wickets a match, we might be in luck. By the time it was Ross Taylor’s turn as captain, there wasn’t a lot left.
Somehow, even those numbers belie how bad we were. From the 04/05 Test season through to the Sri Lanka series in 2012, New Zealand managed to win the following Test series:
Bangladesh (A)
Sri Lanka (H)
Zimbabwe (A)
West Indies (H)
Bangladesh (H)
Bangladesh (A)
Bangladesh (H)
Zimbabwe (A)
Zimbabwe (H)
Notice a pattern? Nine series victories in as many years, and you wouldn’t exactly call them marquee, not that beggars can be choosers. On the other side of the ledger, 15 series losses and three draws. We were better than Bangladesh and Zimbabwe (but so was everyone) and could maybe give sides like the West Indies and Sri Lanka a competitive game at home. That was about it. If anyone else came to town, we had two options: prepare the greenest pitches you’ve ever seen and hope the games became lotteries, a la the 2002 series against India, or else we may as well forfeit.
Not long before the tour of Sri Lanka, the team hit an especially dire slump, as the captaincy saga started to spiral out of control. They travelled to the West Indies for a full, three-format tour, losing 2-0 in the T20 series, 4-1 in the ODI series, and 2-0 in the Test series. Neither of the Test losses was close, by nine and five wickets, respectively. Next, a 2-0 series loss in India, by an innings and 115 runs in the first Test, and by a comparatively respectable five wickets in the second.
Leading into the Tests, Sri Lanka won the ODI series 3-0, with two washouts serving as New Zealand’s only respite. To give a sample of the nation's mood during this run, a headline after yet another loss read: ‘Another Black Caps defeat, but does anyone care?’ If anyone did, the first Test in Sri Lanka tested their breaking point. New Zealand lost by 10 wickets, while Rangana Herath took 11. Try explaining that to someone who doesn’t follow cricket.
On our previous visit to Sri Lanka, in 2009, Murali and Herath combined for 21 wickets in two Tests, as Sri Lanka cruised to victories by 202 and 96 runs. To that point, we had only ever won three Tests in Sri Lanka, two with the 80s crew when Sri Lanka were still new entrants to the game, and another in 1998 on the back of twin second innings tons from Stephen Fleming and Craig McMillan, temporarily mastering Murali in a series we still lost. We’ve only added one more win in Sri Lanka since.
On the other hand, Sri Lanka was enjoying a relatively fruitful period. They had just won a Test in South Africa for the first time, followed by a drawn series against number-one ranked England, and a series win over Pakistan.
Put simply, heading into the second Test, the writing was well and truly on the wall. The side, deeply fractured, couldn’t buy a win. I don’t know the bookies' odds, but I’d have comfortably offered you 1000:1 for a New Zealand victory (though you shouldn’t be accepting odds from random strangers). Everyone knew this would be Ross Taylor’s last Test as captain. It was an open secret, a minor miracle he’d even lasted this long. He was never going gentle into that good night.
III. The Revival
Winning the toss was a rare respite. Ross Taylor chose to bat, in more ways than one. You’d be forgiven for thinking that was our sole piece of luck cashed in early, as things got off to an inauspicious start. Martin Guptill was out in the first over, and Brendon McCullum followed in the fourth, given out LBW despite a chunky inside edge. Both New Zealand openers were dismissed almost immediately, an all too familiar story. Here we go again, and Herath hadn’t even entered the attack yet. At 2/14, Ross Taylor joined Kane Williamson at the crease, as he would so often. It’s a shock Taylor wasn’t sleepwalking to the middle, as he recalls operating on about two hours’ sleep for the fortnight heading into that Test, such were the mental strains of the captaincy saga. Watching him bat that day, you’d never know it. He blocked out all the outside noise and found his batting happy place. That partnership would last until the 100th over before being broken for 262 (579), taking the score to 3/276. Taylor scored a remarkable 142 (306), Williamson 135 (305).
Far from the eye-catching flair that defined the early part of Taylor’s career, this was an innings of utter determination. He shelved the slog sweep in favour of a more mild leg glance, scoring the majority of 11 boundaries through the covers and with deflections behind square. It was a brilliant, mature innings, underpinned by a clear plan: survive against spin, thrive against pace. Taylor bided his time against the turning ball, scoring just 22 (77) against Suraj Randiv, 18 (65) against Rangana Herath, and 2 (14) against Dilshan’s part-timers, for a return of 42 (156) against the Sri Lankan tweakers. However, Taylor played to his strengths and was severe on Shaminda Eranga, taking Sri Lanka’s opening bowler for 51 (61), while also cashing in with 35 (58) against Nuwan Kulasekara. In his biography, Taylor shares that his mantra for that innings, given to him by Martin Crowe, was: “Don’t get out; just bat. Be there at the end of the day.” While that sounds deceptively simple, it was that sort of innings: not always his prettiest, but likely his most defiant.
When Herath finally trapped Taylor in front, trying to paddle the ball around the corner, Daryl Flynn entered at number five, contributing 53 to ensure 3/276 didn’t become 300 all out, as it so easily could have, as it so often had. Herath ultimately dismissed Flynn and Williamson too, before running through the tail to finish with figures of 6/103 off 49 overs. Having spent so long in Murali’s shadow, it's easy to forget, but Herath was at the absolute peak of his powers during this era. He was the best bowler in the world in his home conditions, and one of the best in the world full stop, entering that Test at 4th on the ICC rankings. He’d take more Test wickets than any other bowler in 2012, claiming 60 at 23. Throughout that partnership, Herath lived up to the billing and posed constant questions, conceding just 18 (65) against Taylor and 38 (100) against Williamson. Crucially, though, both survived. They passed this ultimate test, entering a rare zone of pure batting mastery to realise all those whispered promises and desperate hopes as they rose through the grades.
New Zealand finished their first innings with 412. To that point, it was Rosco’s finest Test innings, arguably still his finest ever. But alone, it wouldn’t have been enough.
As much as this is Ross Taylor’s story, it’s equally the story of New Zealand’s Test cricket revival. Earlier, I mentioned our dire record throughout the 90s and 2000s, winning just 40 of 162 Tests. In the 10 years following this Test (2013-2023), New Zealand eclipsed that total, winning 41/89 tests, with 29 losses and 19 draws. This was where it all started.
I wouldn’t blame you for not remembering a few members of the XI that day: Daniel Flynn, Todd Astle, and Kruger van Wyk aren’t exactly household names. I mentioned Flynn three paragraphs ago, and you might have already forgotten him. He’s the guy for whom the term ‘nuggety’ was invented. Martin Guptill, the Test Opener, was always a failed experiment. Jeetan Patel is probably better remembered for his County Cricket exploits than anything he achieved for New Zealand. It was a case of wrong place, wrong time, languishing too long in Vettori’s shadow, the budget Stuart MacGill.
Although the team that would come to define the subsequent era hadn’t fully assembled yet (BJ Watling was still a failed opener, while Neil Wagner had debuted earlier that year, but wasn’t yet the Bouncer Monster we came to adore), the core was there: McCullum, Williamson, Taylor, Southee, Boult. Finally, a Golden Generation, though we didn’t know it yet.
During Sri Lanka’s reply, Southee took five wickets and Boult four, bowling beautifully in tandem as they so often would. It was vintage Boult and Southee, before anyone knew what vintage Boult and Southee even meant. They consigned Sri Lanka to 3/12 within five overs, sending Dilshan, Sangakkara, and Jayawardene back in the sheds. Boult had only debuted in the Hobart victory 11 months earlier, with his 4/42 representing his best figures to date. Similarly, Southee was having a breakthrough year. On the prior tour of India, he took his career-best figures of 7/64, following that up with 4/46 in the first Test against Sri Lanka. After being thrust into Test cricket four years earlier, before he was ready, Southee finally arrived, taking 25 wickets at 23 in 2012, his first calendar year with a sub-40 average.
Thanks to the duo’s new ball blitz, Sri Lanka were all out for 244, giving New Zealand a first-innings lead of 168 runs. Job done, right? Not yet. Not even close. Remember earlier when I said New Zealand loved nothing more than a third innings capitulation? There was still time for our favourite party trick. No New Zealand fan felt safe. We’d been burned too many times.
The third innings started nicely enough. Guptill fell with the score on 34 (that may as well have been a 100-run opening stand, back then), before McCullum fell shortly after to reunite Kane and Rosco. Things seemed comfortable at 2/74 with a lead of 242, though I wouldn’t say it aloud without knocking on every bit of wood in the vicinity. Then, bang. Three wickets in four balls. Kulasekara took Williamson and Flynn in consecutive balls, before Herath added Kruger van Wyk for a golden duck the next over. At 5/75 and the lead at 243, with a debutant walking to the crease, followed by a dodgy tail who had to face Herath, and staring down a batting lineup of Dilshan, Sangakkara, Jayawardene, Samaraweera, and Mathews, things seemed anything but comfortable.
Ross Taylor would not allow it. With crucial support from debutant Todd Astle, who scored 35 (100), Rosco gritted his way to 74 (95). You see a score like that and presume he swung his way out of trouble with a counter-attacking stand. Nope, Taylor only hit two boundaries. That innings, arguably more crucial than his first innings ton, was one of pure nous, grit, and refusal to let it happen again. That partnership saw New Zealand to 6/172 when Astle fell, before Taylor was run out two overs later, pushing for a two that was never there. Southee added a six and Boult a four, before Rosco played his next card, declaring on 9/194. Sri Lanka was left with four sessions to survive or 363 runs for victory.
Did I feel confident? Have you been paying attention? Of course not. I’d been burned by this team, unflatteringly known as the Black Craps in some fan circles, too many times. I knew how imposing the Sri Lankan batting lineup could be, packed to the brim with legends. During the innings break, I was accosted by visions of Kumar scoring 150* and Mahela getting in on the act too to chase the total down comfortably.
The first ball of Sri Lanka’s chase should have calmed my nerves, as Southee trapped Paranavitana LBW. An excellent omen, but, with all due respect, he wasn’t the key wicket. The rest of the top six were all key wickets.
Despite all Taylor had done so far, as batter, as captain, as cricketer, I knew better than to get my hopes up. Can you tell that we fans had been scarred? That eased slightly when one of those key wickets came in the 7th over, Southee snicking Dilshan behind for 14. Sri Lanka, 2/32. The destructive opener, the man who could take the game away quickly, was gone. I could breathe a little easier, but not much. The two men I was really worried about joined each other. You already know who I mean. Sangakkara and Jayawardene. Over the history of Test cricket, only one pair, Dravid and Tendulkar, has scored more runs in partnership than Sanga and Mahela’s aggregate of 6,554. Heading into this series, Sanga sat atop the ICC rankings, the best batter in the world, having racked up scores of 199*, 192, and 74* in the prior series against Pakistan. Mahela also came into the series in form, scoring 180 and 104 against England a few months prior, along with 91 against us in the first Test. If Rosco and Kane could compile a 250+ run stand in the first innings, so could these two masters, and then some.
Doug Bracewell had other ideas. Best remembered as the Hero of Hobart, Bracewell was about to author his forgotten sequel, the Conqueror of Colombo. In the 12th over, he bowled Sangakkara, the ball deflecting off Kumar’s thigh pad onto his leg stump. According to the Cricinfo commentary, “…Sanga would have glanced that to fine leg 99 times out of 100.” Wait, what? That sort of thing didn’t happen; we didn’t get that kind of luck against the world’s premier batter. Jayawardene followed during Bracewell’s next over, caught behind trying to defend the ball off the back foot. Was the TV malfunctioning? Were they lulling us into a false sense of security?
Ten balls later, bad light stopped play on Day 4 with Sri Lanka on the brink at 4/46.
IV. The Final Day
By now, I should have known something special was occurring. This team didn’t just put on 250-run partnerships away from home; they didn’t take wickets off the first ball of the innings, they didn’t get the luck of bad light coming at just the perfect time, not too soon, not too late. Still, my most optimistic assessment was that I was finally confident we wouldn’t lose. But I wanted to win, and there was still plenty that could go wrong. 13 years on, I don’t remember the forecast for day five, but it would have been just our luck for Sri Lanka to be hit with one of its famous, apocalyptic storms. I expected to turn on the TV and see covers everywhere, even in the stands.
Thankfully, that didn’t materialise, but Angelo Mathews and Tilan Samaraweera were still at the crease, both with imposing records, both capable of batting out the day to secure a draw. Earlier that year, the pair came together at 4/98 following on in South Africa. Steyn. Philander. Morkel. Kallis. They proceeded to bat for nearly 50 overs and 150 runs. Samaraweera scored 115* (225) and Angelo Mathews 63 (124). The previous test, a Samarawera 102, combined with a 9-wicket, MOTM performance from Herath, helped Sri Lanka secure their first-ever Test win in South Africa. This time, it was a vain effort, if such a thing exists in Test cricket. Still, they avoided an innings defeat and made South Africa bat again, albeit just barely: South Africa chased two runs without facing an official ball—a no-ball plus a single was sufficient to secure victory.
This time, though, Mathews and Samaraweera knew a repeat effort wouldn’t be in vain. A draw, and therefore a series win, was still eminently achievable. Especially at home, against a team low on confidence who hadn’t yet learned the art of winning. That was their mindset, adding just 16 runs from the first 10 overs of the day. Then, Jeetan Patel had his say. On a spinning wicket where Herath had secured nine victims, Patel had thus far been a non-factor, taking just one wicket in the first innings and none in the second. But, on this day, everyone had to contribute. Nearing the first drinks break on day five, Patel ran Samaraweera out for 7 (37). Samaraweera took off for a single after punching the ball into the offside, but Mathews stayed planted at the non-striker’s end, rightly having no interest in taking even a slightly risky run. Unless you could walk it, no way. And even then, what if someone tripped? Patel, stationed at cover, took advantage, throwing the ball to van Wyk to complete a comfortable runout. Sri Lanka, 5/63.
Somehow, it still wasn’t over. Prasanna Jayawardene entered next, and along with Mathews, he continued to make New Zealand sweat. Perhaps the most natural, effortless wicketkeeper of his generation—maybe even the last great wicketkeeper we’ll ever see in Test cricket—Jayawardene was also a thorny customer with the bat, belying his sub-30 average. Earlier that year, he’d scored a 61* against England, rescuing Sri Lanka from 8/127 in the third innings with a tenuous lead of 252 to the relative safety of 214 all out to set an imposing chase of 340. Only two other Sri Lankan batters passed 30. Given that England made 264 in reply on the back of a Trott hundred, and would win the second test and a series in India shortly after, they were crucial, match-winning runs. At the other end, Mathews was about to enter his purple patch, averaging 74 and 77 with the bat the following two years, including that incredible tour of England where he did it all, bat and ball.
Logically, I knew we were well on top, just one wicket away from breaking the back of this game. But logic rarely factored in with this team. We were masters of snatching defeat from the jaws, as though they never expected to get that far and didn’t know what to do. From 5/63, the pair survived the next five overs to see Sri Lanka safely to drinks. 5/70. Fourteen overs later, Sri Lanka’s hundred came up. 5/100. Another five overs, and they’d made it to lunch. 5/107. Sri Lanka needed to survive another two sessions; New Zealand needed five further wickets. Still, they had to wait. Still, I expected the worst. More impenetrable than Bradman, these two would never be dismissed again.
It took another 12 overs after lunch until debutant Todd Astle had his say with the ball. After 213 long balls, Astle broke the stand, securing Jayawardene caught behind off the shoulder of the bat. As far as I was concerned, the Ball of the Century had nothing on this. The Cricinfo commentary describes it as “…a perfect legspinner's delivery…” It needed to be, to end that partnership. P Jayawardene was gone for 29 (108), the partnership broken at 56 (213), with drinks a couple of overs away in the middle session.
Boult dismissed the new man, Randiv, two balls after the drinks break for an 11-ball duck. With four first-class hundreds to his name, having already contributed an annoying 39 (117) in Sri Lanka’s first innings, Randiv was the sort of pesky tail ender you were elated to dismiss before he settled in. Nearly there, right? I dared not hope. Dared not jinx it. They could still mess this up.
Angelo Mathews and Nuwan Kulaseekara tried to prove my worst fears correct. With a Test average of 14 and a first-class mark of 18, Kulasekara was no mug with the bat and set about proving it. First, Mathews passed 50, coming off 178 balls. Then, Sri Lanka passed 150. Before you knew it, they’d made it to the second new ball, then, an over later, to Tea. Sri Lanka needed to survive one more session; New Zealand needed three more wickets. We were going to bungle another one. Surely not.
Whatever they had for Tea that day, whatever was said, it worked. Sri Lanka’s innings lasted only five further overs after the break. Why? Boult and Southee, with a touch of Williamson magic sprinkled in, and Taylor overseeing it all as captain. What other combination could it be? Three balls after tea, Boult dismissed Kulasekara, caught by Williamson at gully, breaking the partnership after 97 balls. The following over, Southee got Eranga caught, again at gully to a Williamson blinder.
Except, it could never be simple. A third umpire review followed to check that Williamson had his fingers under the ball. After an agonising wait, the finger went up. Finally, I felt safe. Finally, we had this. Even Angelo Mathews saw the writing on the wall and took the long handle in pursuit of his hundred, motoring the score from 169 to 195, before, finally, Boult got him too, caught by Guptill at second slip trying to farm the strike. New Zealand won by 167 runs.
V. The Aftermath
Joy. Relief. Jubilation. New Zealand celebrated that most satisfying of Test victories, one secured on the final session of the final day. Ross Taylor saved his best for last as captain. New Zealand secured their first Test win in Sri Lanka in 14 years, breaking a streak of seven Tests without a win, and a far longer streak of failure, frustration, and fond indifference, interspersed with the odd victory against Bangladesh or Zimbabwe. The series was shared 1-1, but that was hardly the point. Ross Taylor was rightly named man of the match for his 142 and 72, captain’s knocks in the truest sense. He let his bat do the talking, refusing to go out any other way. Without him, this victory would have crumpled into third innings capitulation, like so many before. Without him, we’d have been 3/20 in the first innings, risking rock bottom before even reaching South Africa.
Without yet knowing it, the core of New Zealand’s subsequent Golden Generation had arrived: Southee had eight wickets for the match and Boult seven, ever reliable. Kane scored a vital 132 in the first innings, along with five catches. Even McCullum, waiting in the wings, atypically quiet, scored a trademark 35 (42) in the second innings playing His Way, the eternal tone-setter.
Those five defined our subsequent Golden Generation, but the periphery players all had their input, too. Guptill failed twice with the bat, but still pouched two catches in the slips, including the match-sealer to dismiss Mathews. Jeetan Patel took just one wicket for the match, but was involved in the vital Samaraweera runout. Doug Bracewell played hero again, going bang-bang to take the two big wickets in the final innings: Kumar and Mahela. Kruger van Wyk made a pair with the bat, but also pouched five dismissals with the gloves. Daniel Flynn made a crucial first innings 53, ensuring Kane and Taylor’s partnership didn’t go to waste. And debutant Todd Astle was the missing piece: forging a vital partnership with Taylor in the third innings before breaking the unbreakable partnership on the final day.
Everyone contributed, but make no mistake, this was Ross Taylor’s story. His day. His team. His revival. His victory. He brought this hideously fractured side together to win a Test that no one, probably not even themselves, thought they could. We know the story from here: despite Taylor’s heroics, McCullum was announced as New Zealand’s captain in all three formats a week later. The Test finished on Nov 29th, and the announcement followed on Dec 6th. Taylor barely even had time to unpack. Controversial at the time, to say the least, but a masterstroke in hindsight.
Martin Crowe burned his New Zealand blazer in protest while heaping praise upon Taylor’s effort, noting, “I have no hesitation in saying that his 142 and 74 on a turning pitch, plus his winning captaincy, were the equal of Richard Hadlee's 15 wickets in Brisbane in 1985. These two performances stand out to me as the greatest in our Test history.” I think that was true at the time, but the best part of the team’s subsequent success is that I’m no longer sure if it is, with so many great performances joining Taylor in the pantheon in the ensuing years.
Taylor skipped the embarrassment to follow in South Africa, making himself unavailable for the tour. For a while, we feared this Test might be his last appearance in whites. At least, if it was, what a way to go. Of course, he returned with a vengeance against England, going on to average 72 in 2013, with no lack of motivation to prove some serious points to NZ cricket at large.
But none of that mattered right now; that was all for the future. What mattered was that Taylor led his side, his way, to a rare, against-the-odds victory in Sri Lanka. Defiant to the end, with determination underpinning every facial expression. One DRS challenge from this Test is eternally burned into my mind: the sheer defiance on Taylor’s face as he signalled for the third umpire was palpable. He simply refused to lose again.
A year earlier, during the Hobart victory, I made the mistake of turning the TV off in frustration, assuming that David Warner and Australia were cruising to victory, just another nearly, another gritty but pointless fight from the perpetual underdogs. Thankfully, I couldn’t help myself and kept a Cricinfo tab open in the background. I only clocked what was happening in time to tune back in for the final wicket, before poring over the highlights in disbelief. This time, I made no such error.
To the rest of the cricketing world, this was just a random Test in Sri Lanka. Few were even paying attention, as South Africa and Australia played out a more high-profile, memorable series concurrently (I bet you remember Faf and A.B. batting out a draw in Adelaide better than most of what I’ve described in this article). But to those who were paying attention, it meant everything.
Pride cometh before the fall, and rock bottom was still yet to come for New Zealand cricket, but the revival had already begun.
Thanks for reading! Like my work? Please consider supporting me via a paid subscription or Buy Me A Coffee. For more info on how your support helps me produce this work and what your contributions go towards, see my About Page!
Like my work, but not that much? Fair enough! If you still want to support me, the best thing you can do is share this article far and wide: whether that’s with friends and family, teammates at your local club, on Reddit, or in your obscure cricketing discord server, I cannot emphasise enough how helpful every single share is.
Just keen to continue reading about cricket? No worries! If you liked this article, I think you might also enjoy:
Wonderful article, thank you. And what a test match. It meant so much to win a test match then, it was amazing to see Taylor bat so well. I also remember Southee’s contributions more than Boult’s, but not sure why that sticks in my head.
Great article, you do a wonderful job of capturing the nerviness of watching a close test match!
For a large portion of my early teens, I spent the summers in the homes of paternal uncles and grandparents. Every night we'd watch the IPL and some of my earliest memories of the IPL were watching Ross Taylor play some freak knocks for RCB. In that particular IPL, there was an SMS competition where you had to predict the player of the match (?) and my uncle and I would send in an SMS every match with our predictions where the winner won a fancy watch. For one specific game, I forced my uncle to send in Rosco's name, who probably gave in after being unable to put up with a 12 year old's tantrums. Lo and behold, Ross ended up scoring a 33 ball 81 vs KKR (mind you, this was the low-scoring 2009 IPL season in South Africa and in the same match Baz scored 84 but took 31 extra balls to get there). We did end up winning the watch but it was unfortunately too fat to fit my skinny little arms. My uncle did use the watch for a long time though and it might still be buried in some cupboard in his house. Fond memories :)