The world can't actually have stopped that Sunday morning. For some people it must have been much like any other, the Saturday night revellers must have been in bed nursing hangovers, the Sunday morning church-goers taking their places on the pews. But for the rest of us, there was only what was happening at Edgbaston. Everything outside of that could wait.
Australia were 175 for eight, chasing 282, play having closed the previous night with a majestic slower ball from Steve Harmison,
which bamboozled Michael Clarke. England were so cocksure that they had actually claimed the extra half-hour on the third day, believing that they could end the match that night. They couldn't, quite, but they surely would soon the next morning.
With the last man Michael Kasprowicz out in the middle with Brett Lee, it was merely a matter of when, not if, England would win. Fifty needed, and Kasprowicz walked across his wicket and whipped four to fine leg. Forty needed, and Kasprowicz lofted four more over mid-off. Thirty needed, and Lee walked down the pitch and punched a single past the bowler. With each run, a little drop more faith drained away.
Until all of a sudden came the dreadful realisation that England weren't going to win at all.
Twenty needed, and Michael Vaughan, almost desperate now, brought Andrew Flintoff and Steve Harmison back into the attack, though both men had bowled too short all morning. Just 15 needed, and Flintoff fired a no-ball down the leg side, and we all watched it run away for four leg byes. The game was up, the dream was over. England had blown it, just as they always did.
Australia needed just four runs when Harmison started the last over, and Lee took one of them off his very first ball. A block from Kasprowicz,
and then … The twist is, of course, that Kasprowicz wasn't out at all. His hand was off the bat when he gloved the ball, but in all the excitement no one noticed. Geraint Jones dived forward to take the catch, and England exploded into life. "Jones!" cried Richie Benaud as the catch was taken, "Bowden!" he added, as we saw the crooked finger go up, and "Kasprowicz!" as the batsmen slumped to the ground. "We might as well admit now,"
wrote Paul Wilson in this paper, "that nothing in the next month of overhyped, overpaid bladder-chasing is likely to be as gripping, as heroic, or as memorable as the denouement of the Edgbaston Test." He was actually underselling it. Never mind the next nine months of football.
There hasn't been a moment to match it in the last seven years of English sport.
Andy Bull
Fifa introduced the golden goal in 1993 in an effort to encourage attacking play. The flaw in this plan quickly became obvious as it usually had the reverse effect, aggravating fear and making teams even more cautious in extra-time. The organisers of the 1994 Shell Caribbean Cup were wise to this but, alas, did not notice the problem with their supposed solution until it was too late. Their idea was to make a golden goal count double. This, it was thought, would produce fireworks during the group stages, when draws were outlawed, meaning any match that was level after 90 minutes would go to extra-time. But the combination of these two rules
left a loophole that rendered the Barbados-Grenada game wholly loopy.
Barbados went into the match needing to beat Grenada by two clear goals and were doing so until 10 minutes from time, when their lead was cut to 2-1. What to do? Try to get a third goal, of course.
Barbados tried that for a few minutes and then, with Grenada defending stoutly and time ticking down, inspiration struck: in the 87th minute they brazenly smashed the ball into their own net. Now it was 2-2 and Barbados would have 30 minutes to get the two goals they needed (since the golden goal would count double) … but only if they made it to the 90th minute with the scores still at 2-2. And Grenada, having twigged what was afoot, were determined to rumble the Barbadian plot.
Scoring an own goal themselves before the 90th minute would only mean a 3-2 defeat for them, a result that would put them through to the next round at Barbados's expense. The remaining three minutes of regulation time, then, consisted of half the Barbados players defending the Grenada goal to stop Grenada scoring an own goal, and the other half defending their own goal to prevent Grenada sneaking up and scoring at the right end. Larks, there were many.
Barbados made it to the 90th minute and then, in the fourth minute of extra time, hit the golden goal to win 4-2 and advance to the next stage. Where they were knocked out. A subsequent investigation punished neither side, as both justifiably claimed that they were doing their best to win according to the rules laid down. Paul Doyle
They call it The Five-Minute Final. Played in front of a 56,458 crowd, many of whom had actually left by the time Johnny Dooley flicked the switch for Offaly, the 1994 All Ireland hurling final remains arguably the greatest smash-and-grab in the history of Irish sport. Five points down with just five of the 70 minutes remaining, the Offaly hurling team stunned Limerick with a scarcely credible comeback in which they scored two goals and five points without reply to see off their shell-shocked rivals by a margin of six points. As far as late big-game rallies go, those unfamiliar with the sport of hurling are invited to recall
last season's final-day Premier League thriller between Manchester City and QPR. Now imagine if Manchester City had come from two or three goals behind in injury-time to win by two or three and you're some way towards understanding the magnitude of this achievement.
A famously skilful team that was practically unbeatable on its day – days that were decidedly few and far between at the time, it must be said – Offaly had gone into the 1994 All Ireland final dogged by a reputation for not over-exerting themselves in training that, while exaggerated, was not exactly unfair or without foundation. In an era when increasing numbers of amateur Irish Gaelic Games players were embracing all the benefits of professional training regimes except the accompanying wages, the hurlers of Offaly were notoriously fond of a pint and did little to disabuse those tut-tutting from the sidelines of their notions that here was a bunch of supremely gifted, albeit indolent piss-heads.
With five minutes to go, Limerick were leading by five points, 2-13 to 1-11 and looked to be cantering towards their first championship final victory in 21 years. On one of their regular off-days, Offaly were struggling badly, barely in touch and showing no signs of anything resembling recovery. On a sortie into Limerick territory, Billy Dooley, one of three brothers in the Offaly forward line, was brought down on the 25-yard line and his free-taking brother Johnny, a gimlet-eyed sniper, stepped up to the
sliotar. Looking to the sideline for instruction, Johnny was greeted by the sight of one of the coaching staff raising an index finger. Translation: stick it over the crossbar and chip a point off Limerick's lead. In a demonstration of the complete disregard for authority for which the names of assorted players on his team had long been bywords, Johnny decided completely to ignore the order and sent the ball fizzing low and hard towards the well-guarded goal-line. Assorted defenders flailed and the net rippled. Limerick's winning margin was down to two points.
What happened next was scarcely credible. Rather than take stock and give his team-mates a breather, the Limerick goalkeeper Joe Quaid rushed his puck-out, only to see the ball plucked from the sky by an opponent and sent straight back towards him. A bounce on the floor, Offaly's Pat O'Connor pounced and what had seemed like an unassailable lead was now a one-point deficit for the men from Munster, who were paralysed with terror and suffering the mother of all chokes.
Eager to see how much gas was left in the explosion, a rejuvenated and merciless Offaly turned the screw, raining in points from all angles with Johns Dooley and Troy chipping in one each, before a completely unmarked Billy Dooley scored three in succession from the exact same spot. It was carnage; car-crash stuff, with the players of Offaly piling on in the last minute to turn a deficit of five points into an astonishing winning margin of six. In the saloons of Limerick, to this day, they don't like to talk about it. For years in those of Offaly, we spoke of little else. Barry Glendenning
Tennis is not often a sport that lends itself to last-minute drama. There is no time-specific ending to a tennis match, no designated last minute, no stoppage-time, no point at which the umpire has to call it a day.
Nicolas Mahut and John Isner? Well, they just kept on playing and playing, hitting serve after serve, forehand after forehand and backhand after backhand until Mahut finally cracked, Isner winning the final set of their Homeric match at Wimbledon 70-68. The match had taken 11 hours and 50 minutes, spread over three days to complete. Whereas Andy Murray took just over an hour and a half to beat Nikolay Davydenko at Wimbledon this year – which is roughly how long it took him to win one set against Novak Djokovic in
their Australian Open semi-final in January.
Unlike a last-minute winner in a football match, the final point of a tennis match is not always the most memorable. This is not absolute, mind you; no one will forget Murray's stunning forehand to win his Wimbledon semi-final against Jo-Wilfried Tsonga this year, or Roger Federer's joyous smash to beat Rafa Nadal in the 2007 final. Those are moments permanently etched on the mind. But ultimately there has to be a deciding point in every single match; they are not unique and the sport works to a formula. Unlike a last-minute goal, you know it has to arrive at some point.
Usually in tennis, a comeback takes a while. If you're two sets down, you know it's going to take another two or three hours of slogging to win the match. Manchester United trailed Bayern Munich for 85 minutes of the Champions League final in 1999 and needed two minutes in stoppage time to win it.
Djokovic could be seen as the Manchester United of tennis. Blessed with ludicrous levels of self-belief, never more so than when the chips are down, no situation is too hopeless for him to rescue. A break point is a minor inconvenience. Being broken is a bit irritating. Going two sets down just makes things more interesting. When Djokovic was down against Murray in the US Open final, Mark Petchey remarked on commentary that he looked beaten, which was pretty much asking for the rampant but ultimately fruitless fightback that followed.
Murray survived – but Federer had no answer to the onslaught, confined to the space of a few minutes, in their semi-final a year earlier. Federer and Djokovic have not always seen eye to eye –
Federer once told Djokovic's parents to be quiet during a match – and they have a certain history at Flushing Meadows. Federer won their first three meetings there, including the final in 2007, and in their 2009 semi-final he embarrassed Djokovic with
an outrageous 'tweener that set up a match point, which the Swiss took.
They met again in the last four the following year but by then Djokovic was a changed animal, an irresistible force of nature, and when he faced two match points on his serve he saved them, first with a swinging volley and then with a brilliant forehand winner. He had learnt to go for broke and Federer didn't quite know how to handle it. Djokovic won (but lost to an absurd performance from Nadal
in the final).
The 2011 semi-final was their fifth match in a row in New York and Djokovic, by now the world No1, was the hot favourite to beat Federer … who promptly won the first two sets with some inspired tennis. Djokovic again fought back, taking the next two and sending the match into a deciding fifth set, just like the year before. It looked like the match was only going one way, yet somehow Federer roused himself to take a 5-2 lead. And earn two match points. Just like the previous year. Only this time, they were on his serve. Surely there was no way back, despite the doubts that must have been creeping into Federer's mind.
We didn't know it at the time, but the expression on Djokovic's face was a clue about what would happen next. His eyes were bulging, his mouth was gurning and just before the serve came in, he gave a little nod. As if everything was fine. As if this was just another point. When it turned out to be so much more. When it turned out to be one of the greatest points ever played, Djokovic sending a deranged cross-court forehand winner whizzing right back past a stunned Federer, who could only watch in awe. That was it. Federer had one more match point but he might as well have retired there and then. Djokovic had taken up residence in his head and he knew it, the Serbian waltzing off around the court with his arms outstretched, lapping up the acclaim. John McEnroe called it one of "the great all-time shots".
It was a bitter pill for Federer to swallow. He had a hard time accepting it.
Luck, he said. Genius, said everyone else.
Jacob Steinberg
If Aesop had been into winter sports, chances are he might have called his tortoise
Steve Bradbury. For in 2002 the Australian speedskater went up against a bunch of prize hares and, thanks to an unfortunate and, let's face it, amusing last-ditch mishap that took out all of the favourites, Bradbury became one of the most improbable gold medallists in history.
Applause and guffaws all round. Another heart-warming event in the winter Olympics came four year later when the USA's Lindsey Jacobellis, the reigning world champion, seemed certain to take the only gong that had eluded her in a triumphant career. With a 43-metre, three-second lead over her nearest rival, Switzerland's Tanja Frieden, going into the last jump, Jacobellis decided to perform a slick trick …
but fell on her hide and let gold slide. She recovered to take silver but was ridiculed for missing out on the gold because of premature celebration. But Jacobellis's botched method grab was no outburst of hubris à la
Juan Manuel Leguizamón or
DeSean Jackson, rather it was simply an athlete being serene and natural enough to remember, amid all the hype and tripe, why she did sport for in the first place. "Snowboarding is fun; I was having fun," she explained heroically.
PD
On the surface, there did not appear to be a great deal in this for Wales. Having lost to Scotland and Ireland in their first two matches, a solitary win over France was not enough to maintain their interest in winning the championship going into their final match against England, who still had it all to play for. The chance to put English noses out of joint was not to be sniffed at. Sport just wouldn't be the same without schadenfreude, would it?
Despite Scotland's win over France the day before, England were heavily fancied to beat the Welsh and secure the championship. Coached by Clive Woodward, their defence was strong, they had a 19-year-old Jonny Wilkinson cutting his teeth, still four years away from his World Cup heroics, and they had won all three of their matches. Nothing could go wrong. The bunting was ready. Wales had even been thoughtful enough to play their home matches at Wembley while the Millennium Stadium was being built, which meant that England could go straight out on the town once they'd won.
England dominated the first half and led 25-18 at the break, although a few moments of indiscipline gave Neil Jenkins six penalties. Wales drew level soon after the restart but two penalties from Wilkinson gave England a six-point lead that seemed to all but secure their victory as the minutes ticked away. But Wales had other ideas. As the match entered stoppage-time, Rob Howley and Scott Quinnell combined to find Scott Gibbs deep in English territory and with nothing to lose, he slalomed past five England players to score a preposterous try and cut the lead down to a point. "He's like the leader in a buffalo stampede," roared the commentator, Bill McLaren.
As Wembley erupted, packed with fans who had travelled down from Wales, Jenkins converted the kick with ease to break English hearts. But it wasn't just Wales who were celebrating; the last-minute turnaround meant that Scotland had won the championship on points difference. Oh England! JS
