Graeme Smith, speaking honestly, isn’t the type to attract sympathy; admiration, certainly, and a degree of respect, and plenty of fist-pumping adoration when another full-blooded swing clears the midwicket boundary. But sympathy? No, not often, for by his admission Smith is a tough, competitive sort, unlikely to fall victim to sentiment or self-doubt. But you had to feel for the man yesterday, as his sworn enemy pulled of a nightmare script for every South African, and none more so than the skipper.

Kevin Pietersen cheerfully declared after play yesterday that he felt “as English as anyone”; rousing words for London’s army of Polish builders and Pakistani cab drivers, perhaps, but the sort of claim someone like Geoffrey Boycott might have something to say about. The extent of his Englishness is a moot point right now, though: the only issue of consequence is that KP’s 13th Test hundred put the knife into the country of birth, and gave Smith his most bitter moment yet in cricket.

Not that the rest of us were celebrating his hundred, mind — few people in history have done less to endear themselves to the country they’ve bid farewell to. Had the run-out attempt when he’d yet to score hit the stumps, we’d all still be celebrating, and day one would have ended with a slightly more welcome scorecard.

But Smith’s relationship with Pietersen has been particularly fractious, and very publicly so, from verbal spats on the field and barbed comments to the media, to Pietersen’s eminently avoidable autobiography (the first, one suggests, of several volumes; I find my excitement at the prospect remarkably easy to contain). KP’s litany of aggrieved self-pity at a system that he felt had no place for him, might have gained a shred of acceptance had his damning of South Africa not been fired off with such relentless arrogance; instead, he’s achieved the quite remarkable, and slotted in above the Australians as South Africa’s least-loved sporting figure.

And with Smith leading that school of disaffection, watching Pietersen unfurl a hundred that was, in simple cricketing terms, a delight to watch, would have been extremely painful. Pietersen’s cricket is not a thing of beauty: muscular shots, an abrasive approach at the crease, a strong bottom hand; a style, in fact, not entirely dissimilar to Smith himself. And just as Smith relishes the challenge, and loves the fight, so Pietersen flourishes when the pressure is on, and the context of the game or series has reached boiling point.

Think back to that first one-day series in South Africa, and three hundreds scored in front of a crowd willing him to fail (and all the while sporting a skunk surgically attached to his head). Or the Ashes, and that defining innings to save England at the end of the series, and condemn England to an unlikely defeat. Or now, at Lord’s, scoring a Test hundred he’ll cherish above most of the innings he’ll play over what will doubtless be a lengthy England career.

Michael Vaughan was Thursday’s high-profile failure; usually, getting the opposition skipper out chiefly is a coup in the first innings of the first Test. Getting Pietersen cheaply would have been a greater prize for Smith, for two reasons. The first of those is the simple dislike we all share for the man, celebrating his Englishness with the zeal of religious convert. But the second reason is one both Smith and the rest of us simply have to concede: much as we abhor him, it’s just not possible to ignore the fact that, as illustrated at Lord’s, Kevin Pietersen has become one of cricket’s most dangerous players — and a hundred first up is hardly the omen we wanted for the series.

  • Contact Dan at dan@metropolis.co.za

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