One of the greatest modern Ashes series ends in a splash of puddles | Jonathan Liew

The Manchester rain denying us a possible electrifying fifth Test decider should be a matter of sadness, not condemnation

Open the curtains. The circles on the surface of the canal give the game away immediately. Little compact discs of doom. There’s a group of lads outside the hotel, one of them ordering an Uber, one of them checking a weather app, one of them refreshing the BBC live blog. Eleven o’clock inspection, says one. Might clear up by 12, says another. Ahmed’s coming in four minutes, says another.

By the time they reach the ground they will know that the 11am inspection has been delayed, and so begins the slow fade. The person operating the big screen starts having a little fun. “Please stay hydrated.” “Water fountains are located around the concourse.” “Join The Cloud wifi network.” A game of plastic cricket breaks out by the burrito stand. A kneeling Brendon McCullum gives slip catching practice, trying for all the world not to look like a man getting his trousers soaked.

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