In 1981, Doug Walters was denied a fourth tour of England. He had averaged 25.68 there. Different times? Yes: the prevailing tide of batting averages was considerably lower then than now. Walters had done better than Warner. Yet his career was ended. Mark Waugh, with a similar career record to Warner’s, went into a decline for his last 12 months before being dropped in October 2002. He played 12 Tests in that period and averaged 30.47 with four half-centuries. In other words, Waugh’s decline was short, yet his output was one that Warner would gratefully take now. Now, Australian selectors can enjoy their panic where they chose to situate it: in England, with the Ashes hanging in the balance. Remember Steve Waugh’s “career-saving” century at the SCG in 2002-03? Leading up to it were scores of 103 not out, 7, 12, 34, 53, 77 and 14. Yet he found himself under immense pressure, mainly because he was in his late 30s. During their memorable slumps, Greg Chappell and Mark Taylor — both shouldering the extra burden of captaincy — came under selection pressure after weeks or months. Even they would not have been given years. Something has changed. Or at least, something has changed specifically for David Warner. An exception has been made for him that has not been made for any other player in the history of Test cricket.

What’s really going on? Warner’s own argument — that there is nobody better waiting in the wings — has been contradicted on two levels. For him to retain his place at Old Trafford, one of Cameron Green, Mitchell Marsh or Todd Murphy is the likely sacrifice. Each offers value, while Warner offers hope. Secondly, Warner’s defence that there are no other worthy opening batters was wiped out by Cameron Bancroft’s form last summer. Bancroft was the Sheffield Shield leader in runs (945), centuries (three), balls faced (2102), and his average of 59.06 was second to Peter Handscomb. Yet not only was Bancroft omitted from the Ashes touring party, the back-up batting spot was given to Marcus Harris (601 Shield runs at 37.56), as if to reassure Warner that a lesser threat was hovering at his shoulder. Bancroft is also a right-hander, which might help now. But apparently the selectors doubted Bancroft’s ability to score runs in England. This was speculation. Instead they went for 10 years of hard evidence of Warner’s inability to score runs in England. Credit: Illustration: Simon Letch In the absence of evidence, and the evidence of absence, we can’t help ask what has really giving the Warner case such singularity. Why are the “adults” now repeating Warner’s own talking points, saying his slips catching and his dressing-room influence are indispensable, or listing his partnerships with Usman Khawaja at Edgbaston and Lord’s — 29, 61, 73 and 63 — as if by some magic they have become Warner’s own scores? (Less is being said about Headingley.) How can the line of “There are no alternatives” still get trotted out for a fourth year? For whom else has this ever been done? The obvious speculation is to look at Warner’s singular role in the sandpaper scandal. Convicted for being a “ringleader” – itself without precedent – he served his time and didn’t rat on anyone. But if he gets credit for not ratting, does that mean there was someone to rat on?

Warner’s manager has dropped enough hints that Warner was owed a debt by his teammates. No other players have admitted any knowledge of the plot, but nor has Warner sacked his manager for implying otherwise. So Warner is not a rat. Inside the bubble, you can call his silence loyalty, putting the team first. In the outside world, you might call it a transaction: I give you loyalty over 2018, and you give me loyalty in 2023. The apparent special treatment of David Warner in comparison to Test batsmen of the past cannot help but invite questions. Credit: Getty This is the kind of speculation that flows into a vacuum created by illogic. The selectors have been acting like they are worried about a house of cards collapsing if they drop Warner, which, if they were following evidence instead of crossed fingers and prayers, they would have done at the beginning of the last Australian summer, to give Bancroft or other candidates a chance to partner Khawaja, the best opener in the world, against weak visiting attacks on Australian pitches (a chance Warner himself was only able to take in one innings out of eight). Instead, the selectors have frozen. They had their chance after India, where Australia’s best performances took place after Warner came home. The selectors kept kicking the can down the road until it has stopped where it was always going to stop. Now they can enjoy their panic where they chose to situate it: in England, with the Ashes hanging in the balance.

It’s been a weird old time. This one issue has separated Australians outside the bubble, who have access only to the evidence, from those inside, who seem to know something else. Loading Whatever the weirdness, Australia have staked their Ashes on what has operationally become a 10-man batting order. It’s a sizeable gamble. It may come off despite Warner, it may come off with his belated assistance, or it may crash and burn again, as it did at Headingley where Australia were just one good opener’s innings away from a 3-0 lead. Warner may succeed in Manchester and London, and Australia still lose. Any combination is possible. But if it costs Australia the Ashes, the fault won’t lie with David Warner’s self-belief, which is a known quantity. It will lie with those who didn’t take adult responsibility. Nobody knows the future, and Warner may still emerge as the hero. Good luck to him! What a remarkable twist that would be! But whatever the win-or-lose outcome, the logic leading up to it has been utterly confounding. Such a startling exception to reason leaves a real truth-shaped hole that is waiting, in time, to be filled. Watch every ball of the 2023 Ashes series live and exclusive on Channel 9 and 9Now.

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