The Wisden Verdict
by Neil Manthorp
Monday, September 10, 2001

Andy Flower spat in the face of South Africa's crushing supremacy during his first century of this match but as brilliant as his performance was, it appeared to be of no more than spirit-lifting value to a despondent team. His second century has been of greater worth, no matter how the match ends.

Every psychological trick and defiant gesture was employed by Flower as he singlehandedly tested the resolve of a South African side that had been cock-a-hoop after establishing a first-innings lead of 314.

When Flower was last man out for 142, he asked Shaun Pollock whether he was enforcing the follow-on as the players left the field at the end of the first innings. Pollock nodded gleefully. Flower stared back blankly. "Good," he said.

Pollock had his men surrounding the bat with the left-arm spinner Claude Henderson operating over the wicket into the rough outside the left-hander's off stump. The ball was turning and the leg-side field was packed. So Flower reverse-swept and belted the ball to the boundary.

Pollock held his nerve and kept the field. Flower reverse-swept again, the very next ball, and belted another four. Pollock cracked and sacrificed a slip to plug the gap. It just wasn't supposed to happen in Test cricket.

Later, Pollock tried the same tactic with Hamilton Masakadza, who soon became entangled. Flower's eyes told his partner to believe in himself and the next ball, thrillingly, was reverse-swept to the boundary. Flower nodded. Pollock kept the field. Masakadza steeled himself and played the shot again, next ball. Four more. Pollock was forced to change the field. Tactical genius, and skill to match.

With his point made, Flower returned to orthodoxy until, on 96, he rubbed salt into pride that was openly wounded by reaching his second century of the match with a thunderous reverse-sweep that cleared the man placed for the shot by at least 10 feet. Take that.

By the last hour of the day, the hand that required major surgery just seven weeks ago was turning numb with pain and Flower was hanging on for dear life. He was kept going by the pride he feels in playing for his country, which has seen him turn down county contracts worth more than five times what Zimbabwe can afford to pay him.

But the show was not over. He can't stand being the perpetual underdog and he is repulsed by condescension. He strutted from the field, head down, helmet on. Only when out of sight in the dressing-room did he collapse into an ice bath to lower his raging temperature.

"Unfortunately the game is probably up," he said later. Believe that if you like, but don't believe for a minute that Flower believes it. Defiance like his knows no end.

Neil Manthorp is a leading freelance cricket writer in South Africa.

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