Dead rubber bridesmaids

Australia have a knack of losing ‘dead rubbers’ after securing a series win. How much do these end of series losses really affect the Australian morale and conversely how much do the victors value their consolation prize?

Before this summer, England went the best part of two decades on the debit side of an Ashes ledger whilst picking up dead rubber cheques with alarming regularity. Cheques that always seemed to bounce come the following Ashes campaign.

And what of the opposition players that perform well in these dead matches? Mark Butcher’s best return against the old enemy came in the Leeds dead rubber of the 2001 Ashes campaign.

Likewise Alec Stewart’s highest knock against Australia was his 107 in Melbourne in the 1998/99 series. England won that test but the Ashes had already been retained by Australia. Were these players only able to produce their best when the intensity of the competition had been reduced to playing for pride?

New Zealand completed a thrilling run chase to beat Australia in the final Chappell-Hadlee match in Christchurch, but again, the trophy had already been allocated a spot in an Australian cabinet before the game began. It would be hard to imply that Australia were off the boil in the match with New Zealand having to chase down a world record score to secure a win, and yet something tells me that the result may have been different if the series was still alive.

The Christchurch game was remarkably similar to the second match in Wellington. Both sides posting impressive totals and an adrenaline pumping finish, but in the game that mattered (in terms of a series result), the Australians landed on the winning side of the fence.

Australia played the part of the disappointed losers at the end of the match, but with the presentation of the series trophy following shortly after, a lasting smile was soon returned to their faces.

So how much and for how long do the opposition savour the dead rubber victories? The Black Caps certainly looked ecstatic at beating their Trans Tasman rivals in the final game. Beating the world champions is always deserving of a hugs and smiles and souvenir stump grabbing. But how long will the sweet taste of victory linger on the New Zealand taste buds? I have a suspicion that winning a game when the big prize has gone, means the sound of victory does not resonate much after the showers have stopped running in the dressing room.