It is the 29th of August, 1882, at the Oval Cricket Ground in London.
From his seat in the press section.
27-year-old Reginald Shirley Brooks has a perfect view of the game and is scribbling notes about the action into a small notepad.
Out on the field, two England batsmen are slogging it out against their Australian opposition.
It is a warm day and the sun beams down the players who regularly pause to wipe their faces and necks with handkerchiefs pulled out from trouser pockets.
For most of the afternoon, England has seemed on course for victory.
But now, only two English batsmen out of eleven are left.
If either of them is bowled, caught or run out before ten runs are scored, England will lose.
And the crowd knows it.
Mostly English supporters, They shift uneasily behind the boundary rope.
Reginald leans forward his pencil scratching across the page as he looks between the scoreboard and pitch.
With the batsmen having scraped together another few single runs, the gap is closing.
They need just seven to win.
Now the Australian bowler charges in and the English batsman at the striker's end swings.
The ball makes contact with the edge of the bat. and flies high into the cloudless sky.
As it arcs downwards, an Australian fielder steadies himself beneath it, hands cupped.
The ball lands safely in his grip.
England's collapse is complete.
They are beaten by just seven runs.
The hush of the astonished crowd breaks into scattered jeers. and Reginald lets out a short breath.
Australia, a far-flung outpost of the Empire, have beaten England on English soil for the very first time.
Snapping his notepad shut, the Sporting Times reporter shoves it into a satchel and pushes through the throng of angry fans.
Outside the Oval, he hails a handsome cab.
London rushes past in a blur. as Reginald replays the final moments of the game in his mind.
This is more than a loss.
It is a humiliation.
When he arrives at the Sporting Times office, he unpacks his notes under the desk, dips his pen and begins to write.
Normally, his task is to produce a straightforward account of the match.
But tonight, frustration and embarrassment spill onto the page.
In a hurried scrawl, he drafts a satirical obituary.
In affectionate remembrance of English cricket he writes, which died at the Oval on the 29th of August 1882, deeply lamented by a large circle of sorrowing friends and acquaintances.
RIP.
Satisfied, he sets down his pen.
But just as his editor strides over, and reaches for the copy, Reginald snatches it back.
In a final flourish, he adds, NB, the body will be cremated and the ashes taken to Australia.
Though he's referencing the fact that cremation is illegal in Britain but permitted in its colony, the real sting in the joke is the implication that the remains of the English game should be entrusted to the Australians.
But with that line, history is made.
It's the first time Australia have defeated England at home.
But it most certainly won't be the last.
Australia's victory at the Oval in 1882 was more than a single upset.
It was the spark that began one of the greatest sporting contests of all time.
A competition that survived world wars, diplomatic crises and the end of empire.
It has given the game some of its most famous moments, from the body line scandal of the 1930s to england's miraculous win in 2005 after years of loss.
Today, the ashes nears its 150th anniversary.
It draws tens of thousands of spectators in packed stadiums and millions more watching on television.
The contest continually resets records, swells and deflates national pride and produces some of the most famous moments in the history of the sport.
So how did a passing joke in a London newspaper ignite one of sport's greatest rivalries?
What has kept the Ashes alive through generations of change?
And why, in today's world of franchise leagues and faster series, do the Ashes still captivate?
I'm John Hopkins.
From the Noiser Podcast Network, this is A Short History Podcast.
The story of The Ashes is all about England and Australia, but the game at its heart began long before.
In the 16th century, a children's game takes shape in the fields of rural England.
It begins in its simplest form, in which a ball of wool is bowled at a vertical object such as a wooden gate.
Another player defends this target with a shepherd's crook.
The first written record of the game appears in a court document dating to 1598 in a dispute over land during which a witness refers to playing cricket on the plot in question.
As time passes, it grows in popularity. spreading from village greens and into towns and cities.
Part of its appeal lies in its accessibility.
From the beginning, cricket is unusual in that it unites players from different social backgrounds.
Simon Wilde is the cricket correspondent of the Sunday Times and author of Chasing Jessop the mystery of England, cricket's oldest record.
One of cricket's great attributes was that it was played by people from all classes.
You'd literally have lords playing with commoners.
And a lot of the early games would be played on the land of landowners.
And then their workers would be playing in the same teams with them.
So cricket was largely a rural grain to start with.
And the most famous club in England was the Hambledon Club, which is in Hampshire.
And that became the strongest team in the country for a long time and would take on England, an England team as such, which is basically the rest of England.
In 1744, the game gets its first written laws.
As well as standardizing measurements like the length of the pitch, the height of the stumps at either end of the pitch and the weight and composition of the ball, the laws formalize the way the game is played.
Each team comprises 11 men.
A coin toss decides who will bat first and who will field.
The batting team sends two players in, one at each end of the pitch.
The bowling side spreads all 11 players out across the field, with one bowler trying to dismiss the batter by hitting the stumps behind them.
Meanwhile, the batsmen try to score runs by knocking the oncoming ball away.
Sprinting from one end to the other scores a single run.
Powering the ball to the boundary of the field along the ground gives four runs, while passing the boundary in the air offers six.
Batsmen may be bowled out or dismissed in a number of other ways, including when the ball is caught without bouncing or thrown at the stumps before the batsman is safely beyond them.
Once ten men are dismissed, the team swap roles.
By the late 1700s, London's Marylebone Cricket Club, or MCC, becomes the custodian of the laws of cricket, with its home ground recognised as the legislative and spiritual home of the sport.
Now with a clearer framework.
The game expands with structure to the clashes between local and then more distant sides.
Inevitably, wherever competition exists, gambling soon follows.
Rich patrons sponsor teams and arrange matches, staking money on their outcomes, and spectators flood in, eager for both entertainment and a wager.
The big matches drew big crowds.
One of the primary motivations for these matches was gambling.
Betting was a big thing, and it was part of the reason for holding the match in the first place.
There'd be a big purse available to the winning team, but also there would be side bets being taken from spectators.
Profits are also generated through ticket sales, and money is plowed back into the game, giving rise to better facilities and grand pavilions.
Stands become big enough to accommodate thousands.
But this is the age of empire, with Britain establishing colonies across the globe.
And where the British go, they carry their sports with them.
Teams spring up in the Caribbean, the Indian subcontinent, and even Australia.
Back home, with cricket's rising popularity, comes better organization.
By the 1800s.
The best local players are representing their towns and cities and the best from that strata are being recruited into county sides.
Those at the top levels of the sport see no reason to stop there.
If they can pull in such huge numbers for games between counties, what's to prevent them playing against other nations?
The professional cricketers, people who were being paid to play regularly.
They were the ones who aspired an opportunity to take their cricket abroad and play in other countries and basically become a sort of troop of cricketers and they would go all over other countries and play matches in upcountry towns and villages and cities and they could make a lot of money by embarking on what were huge tours in those days.
Though the first English cricketers to play internationally travelled first to the United States and Canada, in 1861, a professional group make the arduous journey to Australia.
Paid the grand sum of £150 each, up to £20000 in today's money.
The squad, unofficially representing England, travelled by steam on the SS Great Britain, making endless loops around the deck and playing games like quoits to keep fit.
But it was a long voyage to Australia in those days.
It took many weeks to get there, so it was not something you'd undertake lightly.
It was a difficult journey, took a long time and once you were there, they would play for months on end.
They would play farmers, they'd play, 11 Englishmen would play 22 farmers or something.
They wouldn't play on equal terms, 11 against 11, because they weren't good enough.
And gradually over the years the best Australian cricketers improved and they could take England on level terms 11 players versus 11 players.
And that's when we start getting what we now accept as test matches.
In 1877, an English team make the journey to Melbourne to face the Australian national side.
It's been decided that, instead of playing for just one day with a single innings apiece, both teams will get a chance to bat and bowl twice.
There is also now no time limit.
They will simply play until the batting side are all out or until they believe they have enough runs to let the other side try their luck.
The first English-Australian match.
What is now regarded as the first Test match, was in Melbourne in March 1877.
And it was played on the site of the current MCG, although at the time it was called a paddock.
It was a paddock.
It was a field, really.
Trees around the edges and a fence to keep people out unless they paid at the gate to get in.
But it was very much a rural ground.
No real stands as such.
You know, there wasn't a stadium.
There'd be a pavilion for the players and everything.
Some members almost, but it was a very primitive setup.
But England do not arrive at full strength.
In this era, cricket is divided between gentlemen amateurs, who are mostly already independently wealthy, and the professionals who play for wages.
Unfortunately, many of the amateurs, such as the legendary WG Grace, had been recruited into a rival tour.
And though the plans fell through, the division has taken its toll.
The resulting England team is unbalanced, lacking not just some of its most skilled players, but also its leadership.
Even so, they are still favourites, and few expect Australia to pose a serious challenge.
Undeterred, 10,000 home fans come to cheer them on.
And whether it's the home advantage, the likely exaggerated quantities of beer taken by the English at lunch on the final day, or sheer Aussie dominance.
By the end of the fourth day's play, the Colonials win by 45 runs.
I'm David Suchet, and from the Noiser Podcast Network comes Charles Dickens' Ghost Stories.
This Christmas...
I'll be reading a selection of the author's most chilling short works, brought to life with sound design and original music.
But first, Dickens' most beloved ghost story of all, A Christmas Carol.
Charles Dickens' Ghost Stories.
Available wherever you get your podcasts.
The exchange of games and teams between the countries continues.
But it is not until 1882 that the Australians get the chance to try their luck playing England on English soil.
And this time, there are no excuses.
And they beat England by seven runs in a famously exciting finish at the Oval.
And that was a big shock, bigger than the one over the MCC in 1978, because England had their very best players out.
The loss cuts deep for England.
The following day, Reginald Shirley Brooks publishes his satirical obituary in the Sporting Times.
And though the name of the Ashes will not take root until the next time the two teams meet, the legend is already well underway.
On a winter tour to Australia the next year in advance of the next test match.
Captain Ivo Bly's England team win a friendly match against regional opponents at a Melbourne country state.
After the game, the players are invited inside for celebration.
There, a group of local women present Bly with a small terracotta perfume jar, its lid sealed with ribbon.
Inside, they say, are the ashes of English cricket.
The ladies The Melbourne ladies were said to have either burnt a bale or a cricket ball.
It was her family sort of keepsake initially.
It wasn't sort of presented as a trophy.
So we don't know and we'll never know, I don't think, but it was said at the time to be a piece of cricket equipment, essentially.
And though the day is a crucial waypoint for cricket, it's also a big moment in Bly's personal life.
After meeting her at Melbourne, he will eventually marry the original owner of the urn, Florence Murphy.
Many years later, when she's widowed, she donates it to the Lord's Museum, where it remains to this day.
Back in 1882 though, reports of the urn appear in both English and Australian newspapers, and the story spreads.
The gesture is retold, embellished and repeated until the urn itself becomes the physical emblem of the rivalry, with replicas eventually brought out for presentation every time a new winner is declared.
And from here, the contests become a regular fixture.
With such a lucrative arrangement in their hands, it's no surprise that England and Australia quickly fall into a cycle.
They realised quite quickly that they were onto.
Something we see is that from the time of the first test in 1877, england and australia exchanged tours, so you'd have an england team going australia, then a year or so later an australian team would come back to england and they were playing every second year.
So it was a regular arrangement really.
It was, you know, almost non-stop that they were playing each other and this went on for 20 or 30 years into the early 1900s, and then they started to become a little bit more spaced out and they'd play five test matches in each country and they would earn a lot of money.
Eventually, the schedule will settle into a four-year home-and-away cycle, though the gap between a series in England and the next competition is shorter than the gap after Australia host, to account for the seasonal differences in the two hemispheres.
To claim a series, a team must win more of the five tests than their opponents.
In the event of a draw, Whoever previously won retains the title.
From the very first Ashes, the rivalry is not just about a game of bat and ball.
It draws on the sense of empire, of those in power versus those without it.
But those grand themes play out on a human level too.
Personalities dominate the narrative of the Ashes throughout its history, and one of the earliest of its towering figures is England's WG.
Grace.
Bearded burly, supremely talented but with a reputation for creativity.
When it comes to following the game's rules, Grace dominates the sport, batting and bowling with equal authority.
His very presence raises the standard and he becomes cricket's first true superstar, drawing huge crowds whenever he plays.
For decades, he is the benchmark by which all others are measured.
As a gentleman player.
He is also seen as part of the establishment that runs English cricket, which has a tendency to select and elevate amateurs of its own class, often ahead of more talented professionals.
But while these class divisions in English cricket are stark, with the gentlemen players being addressed as Sir by the professionals who merely go by their surnames, Australia does things differently.
Selection here is based on merit alone, with players from farms, towns and cities competing on equal terms.
Around the turn of the century during England's WG Grace era.
The national side is captained by Joe Darling, a farmer's son from Tasmania.
Though he comes from a comfortable background, what defines him is strategic acumen and leadership, not social status.
Joe Darling was an Australian captain around the turn of the century.
He was tactically well ahead of anyone else and a very good leader.
The English teams would always be led by an amateur.
England would often open the batting with two amateurs.
Well, there's no reason why that had to be the case, but they thought that they should start the innings as a way that a couple of gentlemen should get things going.
It was a sort of social class thing, if you like.
So, even though a professional might be a better player, they would pick the best available amateurs to captain the team.
The best available.
Amateur wasn't necessarily the best player, and so the England team were sometimes a little bit dysfunctional maybe, whereas the Australians didn't have that problem.
They were sort of classless and I think they had a better team spirit and people like Joe Darling fostered that sense of togetherness better than England.
But any momentum to rebalance power is derailed.
When the First World War halts cricket for four years, grounds fall silent.
Many players called into combat never return.
Of the 210 English county players who serve in the conflict, 34 are killed, including England bowler Colin Blythe, who memorably took 100 wickets in only 19 tests.
Among the thousands of Australians who lose their lives is Tibby Cotter, whose bowling was so fast he had a reputation for breaking stumps.
1919.
Both nations are eager to see the ashes return, but england, with too many players lost or unfit, opt to wait until the winter of 1920.
They still weren't ready.
They'd gone through five years of war and obviously the australians have been involved in the war as well, but i think the toll had been heavier in england.
So england sent a team out there.
Unsurprisingly, they lost five nil.
The australians then came back to england a few months later to tour in 1921.
So in fact, they traveled back from Australia on the same boat.
And this was because everyone was so keen to get things going again and get the gate receipt money coming through again.
Australia won that series 3-0.
They won the first three matches.
So Australia had won eight in a row at that point.
It's a great run, but a true golden period for the Aussies is just around the corner.
In the late 1920s, a new star is on the rise.
Hailing from a rural, working-class family, Don Bradman taught himself to bat by bouncing a golf ball off a water tank and hitting it with a stump.
Australia discovered a young batsman called Donald Bradman, who was to be the best batsman we've ever seen in the game.
He made huge scores.
He broke the record for the highest score in first-class cricket, the highest score in test cricket.
He broke every record going.
In an era when most players average 30 or 40 runs before getting out, Bradman averages almost 100.
He scores centuries with ease.
Bowlers cannot stop him.
To the Australians, Bradman is a source of hope and pride.
To the English, he is a nightmare.
His 1930 tour of England sees him rack up 974 runs, a record for a test series that remains unbroken today.
His foil emerges in the form of Oxford-educated Douglas Jardine.
Becoming England's captain in 1931, he is the very embodiment of the upper-class establishment.
Where Bradman is instinctive and uninhibited, Jardine is calculating and severe.
Around.
Now Australia is becoming legally self-governing, asserting its national identity and independence.
In some ways, Bradman and Jardine personify the two nations, one striving to assert its freedom, the other determined to hold its old authority.
Jardine noted how ruthless they were.
They were a very ruthless team.
And Jardine realized if he was going to be successful in Australia he was going to have to come up with a plan to keep Bradman quiet.
As the 1933 Ashes tour to Australia approaches, Jardine studies Bradman and his teammates carefully looking for a weakness.
When he spots it, he devises a plan so controversial that it will divide cricket outrage crowds and change the game forever.
It is January 14, 1933.
The third test at the Adelaide Oval.
Bill Woodfull, the Australian captain, tightens his grip on the bat, the sun hot on his back.
From the pavilion end, Harold Larwood thunders in and slams the ball full force.
Not at the stumps, but directly at the batsman's body.
It smashes into Woodfull's chest, above the heart.
For a moment he cannot breathe, and he stumbles, steadying himself with the bat.
His vision blurs, the roar of the crowd swelling into jeers and boos.
Through the noise, he hears Douglas Jardine's voice, cold and clipped, calling out from the slips.
Well bold, Harold.
Woodful forces himself upright, fighting the ache in his chest.
He refuses to fall, not here, before this Saturday crowd of 50,000.
Though the angry atmosphere in the stands seems ready to break into rioting at any moment, the game continues.
England's fast bowlers stick with their plan of pitching the ball short, targeting the body rather than the stumps.
Jardine packs the field with catchers, waiting for the slightest deflection.
Woodfull is trapped, tucked up for space, unable to free his arms.
He's never seen anything like it.
Every ball forces only defensive strokes.
When he's caught out, it's almost a relief.
Later in the dressing room he sits hunched on the bench shirt unbuttoned, the bruise dark across his ribs.
His breathing is shallow, each intake sharp.
Now the door creaks open.
Two English officials step forward. and begin asking after Woodfall's injuries, expressing concern.
They are conciliatory, polite, but Woodfall is in no mood to allay their embarrassment.
There are two teams out there, he says, fixing them with a hard glare.
One is playing cricket, and the other is not.
The next day watching the innings from a balcony.
Woodfall is pained and the tension among the crowd is palpable.
The papers are saying it's deliberate, a new technique the tourists are calling body line.
But the players have had enough, and so it seems have the fans.
Police file in along the boundary, reinforcements against the rising disquiet.
Their boots crunch on the gravel, truncheons hanging at their sides.
In the middle...
The Aussie, Bert Oldfield, takes his guard.
Larwood runs in, bowls.
To a collective gasp from the crowd, the ball smashes off Oldfield's temple.
He collapses, blood soaking the bandages already wrapped around his skull from a previous knock.
And though he will later take responsibility for the injury, admitting that his botched shot ricocheted the ball into his own head, What the crowd sees is further evidence of brutality.
Around the ground, the noise rises, angry and urgent.
Police rush to form a wall around the pitch, bracing for trouble.
From the balcony, Woodfull grips the railing, recognizing that, though the teams came to compete, this is no longer just a game.
There's an incendiary. day's play and it was like a tinderbox already.
All the elements were there almost for a riot and it was only with a bit of good fortune that things didn't get very ugly.
But the Australian public were not impressed.
Across Australia.
The next day, photographs of battered Australian batsmen circulate in the press, including Bert Oldfield with his head bandaged.
To many Australians, the aggression and arrogance of England's body line tactics feel like a wider reflection of its national attitude to its former colony.
The decision is made to respond through official channels.
The Australian cricket board sends a cable to the Marylebone Cricket Club decrying body line as unsportsmanlike a menace.
Unless stopped at once.
The message reads it is likely to upset the friendly relations existing between Australia and England.
The response from Lords is swift, with the MCC denying the allegation and dismissing the complaint as deplorable.
With the dispute already deepening, outrage spreads more widely still a few days later when newsreel footage of the match is shown in cinemas across Australia.
I think once people watched the film they were shocked.
Also, the photography was improving and there were some shocking shocking by the standards of the day photographs of australian players being hit, so that also fueled the anger about bodyline.
Had it happened, you know, a different time, maybe nobody would have known, but technology was catching up with the game and so that sort of found the flames of the body like.
What began as a cricket series is now a full-blown diplomatic crisis between England and Australia and intervention now must come from the very top.
Australian Prime Minister, Joseph Lyons, urges restraint and, under pressure, the Australian board backs down.
The Australians, bitterly opposed to the tactics, recognise that cancelling the tour would bring heavy financial and political consequences.
So the series continues.
Riots are avoided, Diplomatic tempers quietened and England go on to win four tests to one, reclaiming the ashes.
But the episode has tested both the spirit of the game and Australia's opinion of its rival.
Despite their refusal to publicly condemn it at the time.
In 1935, the MCC formally bans bodyline bowling and new restrictions render the tactic obsolete.
Now captains can no longer pack so many fielders so close around the batsman's body waiting for a deflection.
The laws of cricket adapt to prevent a repeat of the violence at Adelaide.
It's into this period of frosty, ashes relations that a new group of athletes now emerges.
Women have been playing cricket for almost as long as men.
With universal suffrage gaining ground around the world, the 1920s saw the establishment of the Women's Cricket Association in Britain.
While the body focuses initially on the women's domestic game by the early 30s, plans are afoot for a female ashes tour.
The year after the Bodyline scandal, England's women cricketers tour Australia for the first women's ashes.
The series mirrors the men's.
Multi-day matches, hard fought and fiercely followed, though the tone is significantly less vicious than the recent men's competition.
None of the players are paid, and though the journey from England is now just a month long, thanks to the shortcut offered by the Suez Canal, with the entire tour lasting almost four months, it's a difficult juggle for the women who have jobs and families.
Not everyone gets behind them.
Do not forget, admonishes the Times newspaper, as the women set sail from London's Tilbury docks, that these women are, after all, women.
And it does not seem quite nice to think that they are future mothers charged with the responsibility of setting an example of gentleness, refinement and restraint to the coming generation.
The players, meanwhile, certainly do set examples of determination and sportswomanship.
The undisputed star of the series is England's Myrtle McLagan, who takes seven wickets for just 10 runs in the second test at Sydney, which sees Australia all out for just 47.
And although Aussie wicket-keeper Hilda Hills retires after one delivery breaks her nose, the series is played out in good spirits, helping in some way to heal the rift left behind by the men.
Memory of body line fades and within a few years the world itself is consumed by much greater conflict.
World war breaks out again and many players on both sides exchange cricket whites for military uniforms.
The ashes, like so much else, is put on hold.
By 1946 England and Australia are once again on the field together and the popularity of both men's and women's cricket continues to grow.
In the immediate post-World War period, second World War period, cricket was very popular, partly because the public was starved of cricket and also because there was this drama going on of whether England could finally beat Australia after a long gap.
And the other thing that was happening was that other countries were playing test cricket more regularly.
India got independence, political independence in 1947, Pakistan and what was then Ceylon.
What happened to India was inspiring. similar aspirations in the Caribbean.
And these teams started to play test cricket as an expression of their own independence, really and power.
They all wanted to play England and beat England because they were the sort of mother country and they were the country that they were trying to show.
They didn't need Britain's help anymore.
They could stand on their own two feet.
So cricket was a way of expressing that.
In 1948 comes a tour that defines the era.
Don Bradman, already a giant of the game, announces that this will be his last visit to England.
From April to September, his Australian side plays 32 matches, including the five Test Ashes series.
They do not lose a single one.
An achievement that has, to this day, never been matched and which earns the side the title of the Invincibles.
Yet, even in triumph, the Tour gives cricket one of its most poignant moments.
In what he has announced will be his final test innings, Bradman walks out to a thunderous standing ovation, with even the English fielders acknowledging the occasion with three cheers.
Distracted by the heightened emotional atmosphere and with some claiming he was in fact in tears, he is bowled out after facing just two deliveries without scoring a single run, known as being out for a duck.
As a result, bradman leaves the field forever with a career test average of 9994, just short of the perfect hundred.
As the 20th century moves on, the game evolves, with the old days of the gentleman amateur now over.
Professional players, in the men's game at least, are backed by physiotherapists, coaches and growing support teams.
Crowds swell and with the advent of televised matches, advertising opportunities as well as ticket sales mean the money pours in.
One of the biggest changes to world cricket happens almost by accident when the first three days of the third 1971 Ashes Test are rained off.
Instead of abandoning the match altogether, the officials agree to a shortened one-day contest.
So begins a whole new format, the one-day international.
And a few years later, an inaugural World Cup uses the same game structure.
With months-long sea voyages now replaced by a few hours in the air, more time can be spent playing.
Yet even as the fixture list becomes more crowded, the Ashes remains the pinnacle for England and Australia, defining reputations and careers.
By the 1970s, a new breed of hostile fast bowlers dominates the headlines.
In the 1974-75 series, Australians Dennis Lilley and Geoff Thompson tear through the English batting order, taking 25 and 33 wickets respectively.
Their pace and aggression representing the raw fire of cricket in the modern age.
A little later, England strikes back with one of the greatest individual performances in Ashes history.
In 1981, with Australia already ahead in the series.
Ian Botham produces an astonishing display at Headingley Cricket Ground in the northern city of Leeds.
With England facing certain defeat, he launches a counterattack scoring 149, not out, to drag his team back into the match.
The momentum swings and Bob Willis' blistering bowling spell that dismisses eight batsmen for just 43 runs seals an improbable victory.
Ian Botham himself was just a captivating person.
He was a star in every way.
He could do everything.
He bowled brilliantly.
He could swing the ball at high pace as a young man and it wasn't like that later on, but he was in his absolute peak when he was about 25, 26 years old.
He was absolutely at the height of his powers.
He was a very entertaining batsman.
He loved to hit the ball miles.
You know, he was an all-action hero.
And also, I think English football was not so good then.
And that period, early 80s, Botham was the biggest sports star in England.
The tabloids loved him.
He was always giving them some stories to write about.
He was pretty wild off the field.
Newspapers splash Botham across their front pages.
Bookmakers who'd offered 500 to 1 against an England win are cleaned out by lucky punters cashing in on the miracle.
For a summer mired in strikes and economic gloom, Botham's performances offer a rare moment of joy.
Children in playgrounds copy his swagger at the crease.
Commentators call it Botham's Ashes, and the name sticks.
But those glory days are short-lived, and England defeats soon become familiar.
The 1990s are dominated by Australia in the men's ashes, under captains like Mark Taylor and Steve Waugh.
England's men struggled to compete.
The rivalry fundamentally existed because actually the teams were quite evenly matched.
So if one team kept winning, you know, year after year, it would fizzle out, really.
It would stop being a spectacle.
And in fact quite recently, in the 1990s, when Australia kept winning against England, it became a bit of a turn-off river.
It wasn't much fun to watch because Australia would always win.
In 1998, it is the women's side who give English cricket of the few bright spots of the decade on home soil.
The team led by karen smithies and a 35-year wait by winning the women's ashes.
Then, after nearly two decades of australian dominance for the men, the summer of 2005 reignites the ashes like never before.
England, led by michael vaughan, take on ricky ponting's australians in a series of extraordinary drama.
Each test is tense, close, and fiercely fought.
At Edgbaston, England win by just two runs.
The standout player is Andrew Flintoff, known as Freddy, who captivates fans with his effervescence, his down-to-earth unstuffiness and, perhaps most notably, his love of partying as hard as he plays.
When the fifth test is declared a draw at the Oval, England's 2-1 majority secures an overall victory.
The drought is over.
After 18 long years, the ashes return to England.
The celebrations are instant and immense.
Crowds pour onto the street.
For many, it feels less like a sporting win than a national triumph.
8 a.m. on September 13, 2005.
Inside his room in the team hotel England test captain Michael Vaughan buttons his blazer, then heads with his wife and young daughter down to the lobby.
Though he's keen to show a civilized face to the world after finally winning the Ashes back on home soil, the beleaguered cheer he gets from his gathered teammates gives him pause.
The smell of stale beer lingers on many of them and several of the squad clearly haven't slept.
Their eyes bloodshot, their ties askew.
The lobby doors slide open briefly, and the low murmur outside becomes a blast of noise.
The crowd is swelling in the streets, the world's media ready and waiting.
It's time to go.
Whatever state the lads are in will have to do.
Encouraging his teammates to their feet, he heads to the door, hesitates briefly, then goes outside.
He is hit by a wall of sound.
Behind the police cordon is an enormous screaming crowd skirted to one side with a gathering of press.
And they are all here for them.
Vaughn leads his family to the open-top bus waiting outside, the first of two.
Just behind the victorious women's squad who won their own Ashes series just a few weeks ago, climbing into their own vehicle.
Though a quick glance back suggests the women are in slightly better shape right now than the men.
Accompanied by their significant others.
Vaughn's squad spills out of the hotel, some grinning, all bleary-eyed, after a night of celebration.
Jugs of beer are hoisted aloft. and wives and partners trail behind, swept into the delirium.
Freddy Flintoff stumbles up the steps of the bus, a bottle still in hand.
As the two groups of players emerge on the top decks, the noise is overwhelming.
The supporters cheer for the teams, for the superstars within them and for the sheer joy of their loyal support having finally paid off.
The engines start up and the parade begins.
St.
George's flags ripple in every direction.
The crowds spread out beneath them and at every turn on the route through central London and onto Trafalgar Square, tens of thousands pack the pavements, their voices deafening.
Vaughan looks out across the sea of faces.
England has worked for 18 years for this men's win.
And today, in what seems an endless shower of champagne, confetti and adulation, it feels like everyone in the country is here to share in the celebration.
The wait, at long last, is over.
Though the majority of the press and public attention remains firmly on the men's success, the women's win is also crucial, a testament to the increasing professionalization of their game.
Central contracts, improved funding and televised coverage now drives the women's sport forward, and the series moves slowly towards parity of investment and press attention.
In just the last few years, the ECB has made good on its promise to pay its professional female cricketers the same match fees and prize money as their male counterparts, though there is still a long way to go to equalize contracted earnings.
Today, cricket has grown into formats unimagined in the 19th century.
Yet through it all, the Ashes endures.
There have been 73 Ashes series since its inauguration almost 150 years ago, with Australia winning or retaining the title just a couple of times more than England.
A rivalry almost perfectly balanced has nevertheless been the setting for high drama, deep rifts and unprecedented spectacle.
A competition in which careers are launched and ended and legends made.
Despite ever shortening attention spans, the days long contest remains a thrilling event for millions, from newcomers to those loyal fans who have cherished the ashes all their lives.
Well, i think we We still love the Ashes and we will continue to love the Ashes because it's gone on for so long and Test cricket generally is under quite a bit of pressure.
People like 2020 cricket these days, they want things shorter and sharper.
Whilst in some countries they're sort of giving up on Test cricket.
England and Australia won't give up on the Ashes because there's too much history at stake and it's what's defined.
As you know, we measure ourselves by how we're doing against the other lot.
So it's just too integral to our ideas of ourselves, England and Australia.
And the fact that other people are giving up on test cricket and it's maybe too long for most people's attention only adds to the appeal that it's this sort of slightly exotic creature which we all still love.
And actually, if it becomes a rarer thing in the cricket being firm, then that's great.
It makes it stand out all the more.
This time on Short History Of, we'll bring you a short history of the Nuremberg trials.
In some respects it did offer a means of, in the purest possible sense, bringing a form of justice to these individuals.
There was also an opportunity to sort of make a statement to the contemporary world and to history about how these people should be kind of framed and considered.
Essentially, it was for the moment, but it was also for history.
And it's interesting to me that in the moment, they were thinking with the eyes of history on them.
That's next time.
