If you see a fork in the road, take it. And so it is that a little after 4pm on a pale summer’s day in Manchester, Cameron Green walks out of the pavilion to join Mitchell Marsh in the middle. Their gazes meet, and for a fleeting moment we are reminded of that famous internet meme with the two Spider-Man characters pointing at each other. Hang on. I thought I was the tall, big-hitting 85mph seam-bowling all-rounder in this team. So who are you exactly?
They share a few quick words, although given the noise around the place it’s arguable whether any actual information was communicated. Australia are 189 for five, having lost two wickets for six runs either side of tea. Stuart Broad has a nefarious glint in his eye and a little sliver of tongue poking out of the side of his mouth, the way he looks when he can taste blood. Marsh is on two. Green is on nought. The Ashes are afoot, England are rampant and the only thing standing in their way is just under four metres of prime Perth flesh.
