Adelaide — Who needs poetry? Who needs opera? Who needs theatre? Who needs art when you have the masterpiece, Faf du Plessis, delivered here on Thursday? On the grandest of stages — a modernist cathedral set against a lava-lamp sunset — and in front of a crowd of 32,255 out to enjoy a spot of pink-ball Test cricket, Du Plessis the tampering villain became Du Plessis the towering hero. And there was not a damned thing any of the many who booed him when he first skipped across the boundary could do about it. When Du Plessis reached 50, their boorish voices were fewer and further between. When he dashed deep into the outfield to celebrate his century, only a smattering of spitefulness was heard amid the waves of appreciation for a performance for the ages; a thing fetched from lore and destined to shine forever. Du Plessis arrived at the crease with his team in trouble on 44/3, only to watch them dwindle further into the dwang on 117/5. He proceeded to bat through the remaining seven p...
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