In most respects there weren’t many similarities between this World Cup final and the last one the Melbourne Cricket Ground hosted back in 1992. There is though a pleasing kind of symmetry in the fact that a battle-weary captain, fighting against his body as much as his opponents and bowing out of the one-day international arena, should hoist the Cup into the Melbourne sky.
If this final lacked the exhilarating joy of Wasim Akram’s yorkers, it was at least dominated by a worthy line of successors to his crown; Mitchell Johnson’s pace and hairy aggression, James Faulkner’s sleights of hand and Mitchell Starc’s untamable swing.
There was maybe a view that Michael Clarke had made this World Cup as much a personal mission as a team one, but he played a decisive role in finishing off Australia’s work across seven weeks of increasingly-clinical cricket. Clarke’s fluent and emphatic 74 took Australia to the brink of victory and finished his limited overs career on the highest of highs.
Just as when Imran Khan found himself holding the fort with his side floundering at two wickets down against England in ’92, this game threw up a situation tailor-made for present-day Clarke; 63-2 with 121 runs still required and twice as many deliveries in which to make them.
Gallant Kiwi skipper Brendon McCullum has dragged his side from the status of cricketing non-entity to the brink of world cricket’s greatest prize but cruelly, his and Clarke’s respective innings couldn’t have provided a greater microcosm of the game; Australians keeping their heads, the Kiwis undone by their tendency towards relentless attack.
On 14 Clarke slashed Matt Henry past the outstretched hand of Martin Guptill at gully but otherwise he treated the situation with the gravitas it begged. Once settled he launched, slapping Vettori for six and then reeling a potentially tricky target back to a mere formality.
As the night drew to a close it was also hard to escape the poetic dovetailing of Clarke finishing his one-day international career by the side of Smith, his heir in the leadership position and now at least his equal in batting excellence.
Just as Clarke’s ego had taken a back seat to the shifting momentum of the team in each game he played at this tournament, Smith showed his own capacity for batting empathy, deferring to his buoyant skipper and dropping anchor. Smith’s half-century was followed by a vigorous point of his trusty blade to the teammates huddled at the boundary’s edge and his celebration of the winning runs served as a reminder of the boyishness that remains.
Moments earlier the outgoing Australian captain had left the field to strains of Hunters and Collectors’ ‘Throw Your Arms Around me’. Not long after, his teammates took up the chance with relish.


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