Humility and heart: how Nathan Lyon became the quietly turning key to Australia’s success

After years of being doubted – and doubting himself – the off-spinner’s 500th wicket in the first Test against Pakistan has secured his legacy as one of the greats. And he’s not done yet

Looking back, the start of Nathan Lyon’s Test career can seem impossibly long ago. Taking the ball in Sri Lanka in 2011 is a baby version, head ringed in duck down, face thin and anxious. There are glimpses of his future - start with turn away from the left-hander to get Kumar Sangakkara at slip, end with a diving return catch for a fifth. But there is the confusion of his present, a player unsure how to celebrate when each wicket falls, waving his limbs and jumping sporadically like a foal tangled in a fence.

Coming from outside the usual route, playing club cricket into his 20s instead of state age-group in his teens, Lyon for years was unconvinced he belonged. His physical presence has always reflected his jangling nerves: all angles and elbows, an unstuffed puppet with somebody overzealously yanking the strings. The appearance changed, that fuzzy head giving way to the sleek chrome dome that - until that fateful calf tear in London last June - fitted his mechanical reliability. But even before his comeback in Perth last week, on the way to Test wicket 500 and a win against Pakistan, his teammates said he was nervous again.

Back in the early years, he had good reason. For years selectors didn’t fully believe in him, often retaining him because of the lack of alternatives. He was left out for four quicks in Perth in 2012, for Xavier Doherty in Hyderabad in 2013, returned for nine wickets in Delhi, then got dropped for the teenage Ashton Agar for that year’s Ashes. As recently as December 2016 he would have been swept out with the new broom after South Africa thrashed Australia in Hobart; five changes for Adelaide would have been six had the replacement spinner Steve O’Keefe not torn a muscle that week.

Still, each of those exclusions only lasted one or two matches, and after that final flirtation with the abyss he consistently strengthened his position in the side. He was excellent in India in 2017, setting up what should have been a 2-0 lead but let down by his batters, and even better in Bangladesh in a hard-fought 1-1 series. Now fully equipped to bowl in Asia, you could sense the gradually growing belief that he wasn’t one bad day away from being dumped from the side.

With all that insecurity, Lyon has assembled a line of defences as a public figure. Aside from a disastrous few months of attempting trash talk leading up to the sandpaper debacle, he has remained tucked in behind them. With longevity that means he has fronted more press conferences than most, you soon pick up on the repeat lines.

“I can’t bat,” is his preface for any conversation about either team’s work with the blade, disingenuously for a guy who has reached or cleared the boundary 190 times in Tests. “To be brutally honest,” he says ahead of any uncontroversial observation, as if to disclaim responsibility should someone disagree. He gives a good workout to lines about not playing for milestones, and expresses embarrassment at being statistically associated with past greats. This week, looking at the significance of the 500, he allowed himself the indulgence of saying: “It’s something that I’m very proud about.”

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