Batting nightmare through a brother's eyes

Let's say you live in London. You get a call to say that your older brother Callum Ferguson, after years of trying and a pair of serious knee injuries, has been added to the Australian squad for a Test match for the very first time. You don't know for sure if he'll be playing, but you book a flight to the far side of the world anyway, just in case.

You take the journey, around 20 hours in the air from London to Melbourne, followed by a short hop of around an hour from there to Hobart. On arrival, you find that your brother is actually going to play, making the trip worthwhile but also filling you with plenty of nerves.

So you sit and watch things unfold alongside your father. You see your brother presented with a baggy green cap he has been chasing for well over a decade, handed over by his old Redbacks teammate Greg Blewett. You see the coin toss and the news that Australia are to be sent in to bat. You notice the green grass on the pitch, the lushness of the outfield, the dull light and sprinklings of rain. You're reminded of the country you've just flown from.

Your brother is set to bat at No. 6, so you don't expect to be seeing him out there particularly soon. You settle in to watch the openers David Warner and Joe Burns trot out to the middle to start the innings. You see Vernon Philander at the top of his mark, looking calm but eager, in conditions tailored beautifully for his seam and swing.

After the first five balls, you think Warner has handled things well enough, but then you see Philander spray his sixth delivery well wide of the stumps, out almost near the return crease. You're half expecting the umpire to signal wide, but instead you see Warner's arms outstretched instead, trying vainly to reach the ball and succeeding only in snicking a catch behind and gifting his wicket to Philander. You hear exclamations of surprise and annoyance around you.

Next you watch Burns being sized up by Kyle Abbott, a seam bowler who had success against the Australians in the ODI series in South Africa. You know that Burns has just been recalled to the team after being dropped in Sri Lanka, and that his Gabba education should help on tough days for batting against pace. Then you see Abbott jag one back off the seam, much as he did to Aaron Finch in Port Elizabeth a few weeks ago, and see Burns struck on the pad in front, his bat not straight, his head falling over to the off side. You feel slightly nauseous as the umpire's finger goes up - not all to do with the jetlag.

You watch Usman Khawaja and Steven Smith scratch around for a while, letting numerous balls sail perilously close to the stumps either side of a brief rain delay. You start to think they might be getting through the worst of it, with just eight runs on the board, when you see Khawaja squared up by a Philander delivery that rears off the pitch and caught in the slips.

Not far from where you're sitting, Adam Voges walks out to the middle. This time last year, you followed the scores from a Test in Hobart against the West Indies, and saw Voges collar 269 not out against a benighted Caribbean side. Now you see Voges take guard, ready himself, then stand motionless at the crease after edging the most perfect of leg cutters from Philander. You don't think there's much more he could have done, but then you realise your brother will now be coming in to face a hat-trick ball, with the scoreboard reading 4 for 8.

You're tense and struggling to sit still as Philander rolls in for that ball, sending down a delivery on target that your brother gets enough bat on to keep out. The ball is seaming treacherously, and your brother lets one delivery go that passes more or less over the top of middle stump. The febrile environment in the middle is shown when Steven Smith and Philander collide during the middle of an LBW appeal, sending the bowler off the field for treatment.

Watching Philander leave the field with South Africa's physio, you think that might be a chance for the Australians to find some breathing room. But then your brother, facing his 12th ball, knocks one down into the gully where the substitute fielder Dane Vilas misfields. You sense the adrenaline coursing through your brother's veins as he turns to try to force a second run, but you also see Vilas' rapid recovery in chasing after the ball.

In a moment that seems to take an age but is barely a couple of seconds, you see Vilas gather, turn and throw in one motion. You see your brother realise he's suddenly in trouble and shape to dive for the crease. You see the ball fired in low and hard towards the stumps, hitting them as Quinton de Kock jumps up in exultation. You see your brother sprawled on the ground, short of his crease and out in the most maddening way possible. You see an Australian innings in utter chaos, and a team bereft of method or confidence to deal with the prevailing conditions.

You've seen enough. You throw your hands in the air in total exasperation, stand up and rush past your dad, and walk out through the entrance to the Ricky Ponting Stand - a scene captured by television cameras. You cannot believe your journey around the world has ended in this awful scene, watching the total collapse of a team your brother was rushed into in an effort to fix problems that seem more systemic than personnel-based. You're not alone.