Wednesday, August 22, 2001 The morning after the night before is often a tug-of-war between day-dreamy reminiscence and pangs of regret. So it was on Tuesday. The papers were full of congratulation rather than castigation, which was a refreshing change, and Mark Butcher was world-class, and everything was right with the world, and God is an Englishman, which we all knew anyway. But - at the risk of pooping the party - you couldn't help wondering: why did England leave it so late to dazzle? Why, for the fourth series against Australia out of five, did they only start once the Ashes was finished?

The more you go into it, the more you torture yourself. What if Butcher hadn't got out on the stroke of lunch on the first day at Edgbaston? What if he hadn't dropped Adam Gilchrist at Lord's? What if Mike Atherton hadn't been given out off Shane Warne at Trent Bridge? And what if umpire Venkat had spotted that Matthew Hayden was plumb lbw second ball in that tense runchase? The score might now have been 2-2, and The Oval would be packed to the rafters for the second year in a row. The Ashes would now be coming home (or staying at home, in any case). Right? Er, probably wrong actually, because it's unlikely that even this adventurous Aussie team would have declared with the Ashes at stake, but, hey, the flipside of self-flagellation is self-delusion.

Back in reality the fact is that England seem to have reverted to their pre-Duncan Fletcher habit of winning games that don't matter too much: The Oval 1993, Bridgetown 1993-94, Adelaide 1994-95, The Oval 1997, Centurion 1999-00, and now Headingley 2001. Why do dead games seem to bring them to life? (And why do England fans ask so many rhetorical questions?)

And yet, Headingley '01 has a different feel to it from those other magnificent one-offs. For a start, this history-mad Australian side were desperate to emulate Warwick Armstrong's 1920-21 team and whitewash England 5-0, so there was absolutely no suggestion that they had slackened off. Then there was the sheer scale of the achievement. To get more than 200 against the Aussie attack on a pitch that did frightening things in the early stages of the chase would have been a feat in itself; to get more than 300 for the loss of four wickets, two of which weren't out anyway, was something else. Don't forget that since Sri Lanka beat them in September 1999, only one other side (India) has won a Test against Australia. And England did it without two members of their first-choice middle order (Graham Thorpe and Michael Vaughan). The odds weren't just upset - they were absolutely gutted.

But the main reason why this particular ray of sunshine does not mean a false dawn is because of England's form leading up to the Ashes: five series, four wins and a draw. The England we were all getting to know, the England we dared to call the real England, has at last stood up against Australia. The fact that it has taken them so long has been the most frustrating thing about this series.

To be outplayed by one of the best teams in history is no disgrace, especially considering the length of England's injury list (this isn't an excuse, John Buchanan: look how your side descended into a shambles in the field when your first-choice captain was absent injured). To win a game against them is a triumph. Suddenly, the winter doesn't look so dark after all.

Lawrence Booth is assistant editor of Wisden.com

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