Harsh words have flown between Australia and England on the field, but no pithier than epithets directed at the Australian selectors from lounge rooms and saloons when the Ashes team was first named.

Cameron Bancroft? The Renshaw-ites were not happy, but OK. But Shaun Marsh? Tim Paine? As Jimmy Anderson would say: "#$@&%*!?"

The time has come for us to say, well, um, you know, perhaps we might have been, kinda, like ... w ... w ... ok, wrong! Yes, us. I'm including you because I was only saying what you were all thinking.

Bancroft made his mark in the first Test, as a capable Test batsman, with an alternative sense of humour. In all his work, he was composed. Equally, he was not awed by this new landscape. The selectors knew this.

In Brisbane, Marsh made a studied half-century. Here, he built on the theme to make a long, unpretentious, but vital century. At the Gabba, he was a foil to Steve Smith. Here, he made his runs in lieu of and succession to Smith. Since the last two or three of his many recalls, Marsh looks to have simplified his game, playing only the shots he trusts. Boiled down, that is a cover drive. But it is a well-grooved cover drive. The selectors knew this. The unassuming Marsh was never cut out to be a divisive figure anyway. At last, the dressing room's favour was reflected in the country's.

Marsh is making his runs in this series at a rate of around 30 runs per 100 balls. In Sunday's extended first session, he added merely 29. But this is Test cricket, a confrontation not a race. Even Smith, knowing that England's plan is to wait him out, is infinitely patient. It means all Australia's progress in this series has been incremental, but as long as it is progress, the crowds accept it. This might be the BBL bonus, that fans can have their instant gratification and wait for it, too.

In the cornerstone period on Sunday, Marsh played Robin to Paine's Batman. The reconstituted Tasmanian wicketkeeper played all his shots in a handsome innings of 57, sharing 85 with Marsh for the sixth wicket. From the start, he respected balls on the stumps, but readily expanded to anything wide or short. His was the classic keeper-batsman's innings, played with that hint of freedom that top order players rarely feel. This is what must have appealed to the selectors.

Another quality shone. Twice, he winced and grimaced after blows to his troublesome right hand, requiring on-field first-aid, but he persevered. This made him not only invaluable, but endearing to us ... sceptics? doubters? OK, critics. In some sports, medals are struck for less heroic efforts.

Succeeding Paine to the crease, Pat Cummins played another redoubtable innings. Marsh-Paine and Marsh-Cummins put on 184 for the sixth and eighth wickets. Who could even have envisaged such combos three months ago? Our selectors did.

Those stands were worth twice their face value. They held at bay a revived England on a spritzed-up pitch. They took away England's voice. Stuart Broad began the day leering in Peter Handscomb's face, but spent the rest of it going red in his own. His bowling speaks volumes anyway; it's a pity he talks over the top of it.

The Marsh-Paine-Cummins axis forestalled a collapse, always a risk. Cussedness has been a different and distinct feature of Australia's batting latterly. Longstanding mottos about playing one's natural game have been retired; now it is all about playing the long game. England might scheme to wait out Smith, but all of Australia is smoking out England. Cummins was prepared to dwell on 0 for 37 balls until the right one came along. And he's a bowler.

Cummins is making Australia cricket all retro. When Marsh reached 100, Cummins did as he did for Smith in Brisbane: stayed out of shot. This was a Marsh-crowd moment, his passer-by's hug could wait. Postman Pat delivers, but is also Simon the Likeable.

England weren't horrid with the ball. But if 150 overs can be described as job lot, they were too short. It is a failing even disciplined teams fall into helplessly when the fates start to gang up on them. When Jimmy Anderson did pitch up, he might have had Marsh and Paine both lbw except for DRS' creative imagination. Thereafter, England's resolve dissolved.

Most of all, Marsh, Paine and Cummins re-aligned the course of the match. While they waited, the earth turned. England, instead of getting a daylight sighter, were forced to begin their innings at dusk, in day-night cricket a twilight zone in all its meanings. Already mentally weary from two days in the field, it is what they would most have wanted to avoid.

Time of day is the extra dimension in pink-ball cricket, as much a factor in calculations as the state of the pitch, ball and bowlers. Australia have learned their lessons well. This time, rain - cricket's natural enemy - thwarted them and relieved England as it does farmers, but not before Mitch Starc had crackled like lightning, and struck once, though not in the same place as England. It was full, and fast, and for Mark Stoneman, final.