How many normblog readers know that the above is the title of a book written by William Pollock not quite 70 years ago, about the 1936-37 Ashes series? I'm guessing not too many more than one; and he's also in Brisbane at the moment. I hope to catch him - Gideon Haigh, that is - later this afternoon at the Avid Reader bookstore, talking about his new cricket book.
Anyway, So This Is Australia by William Pollock - traces of which can be seen here and here - gives an account of the series in which England won the first two Tests and then lost the next three. There aren't too many series with that structure. In the third Test, in which Australia began to turn things, Bradman reversed his team's batting order in the second innings, so as to save his strongest batsman from batting on a sticky wicket. Bradman himself then made 270, and Fingleton 136, in a total of 564. You can read about it.
But what's it all got to do with anything? It's got to do with... So this is Australia - where I've been since yesterday. Everything is different: the air, the sky. On the skin it feels like where I grew up. Flying into Brisbane and looking down at the buildings, the roads and the traffic, same thing.
Cricket is everywhere in the talk of the city. This morning I went out to Allan Border Field to pick up my and Ian's tickets for the game. Finding an available cab in the centre of Brisbane was no easy business. Getting one for the return trip was impossible. 'Is it always like this?' I asked. 'No, it's because of the Test.' The bus was no problem.
On one of the TV channels last night, there was an Ashes programme, with all and sundry being asked for their views on the coming series: Greig and Lawry, Boycott and Atherton, Botham, Thommo, Ian Chappell, Ian Healy, David Lloyd, David Boon, and the Supreme Supremeness Himself, Lord Richie of the Benaud. What did they all reckon? They all reckoned different, and reckoned everything.
What do they really know? Tomorrow it kicks off again. So this is The Ashes...