The 2018 Test series in South Africa that ended in disarray for Australia continues to cast a shadow over the sport, with fundamental questions about what actually happened still unanswered after nearly a decade. The scandal's grip on Australian cricket persists not because the incident is old, but because the full truth has never been publicly acknowledged by those involved.
Australia's Test team would have returned to South Africa in February 2021, less than three years after the infamous 2018 series, had the Covid-19 pandemic not disrupted international cricket schedules. With memories still fresh, the spotlight would have fallen intensely on the returning players: former captain Steve Smith, who had been sacked; his replacement Tim Paine; David Warner, the principal figure in the controversy; and the bowlers Nathan Lyon, Josh Hazlewood, Pat Cummins and Mitchell Starc. A prompt rematch might have allowed the sport to move past what became Australian cricket's defining modern humiliation.
Instead, Cricket Australia cancelled the 2021 tour, postponing a replacement series for years. While white-ball tours occurred in the interim, eight years have now elapsed since an Australian Test team last visited South Africa. Two Olympic Games have come and gone. Two FIFA World Cups have been contested. Dozens of cricket tournaments of various formats have been played. Yet the sandpaper story remains the dominant narrative as the teams prepare to meet again.
The persistence of this narrative is striking given the passage of time and the turnover in personnel. Warner and Paine have long since departed from international cricket. However, Smith and all four bowlers—Lyon, Hazlewood, Cummins and Starc—remain part of the Australian Test squad. This continuity of key figures ensures that the 2018 events cannot be easily consigned to history.
The flood of retrospectives and analyses has generated what many observers describe as sandpaper fatigue, with audiences weary of revisiting an old controversy before a new series begins. Some commentators have attempted historical reinterpretation. Various pundits have contended that the suspensions imposed on the players involved represented an overreaction, a view with some merit given how widespread ball-tampering is across international cricket. Yet this argument conveniently overlooks the press conference in which Smith and Cameron Bancroft made false statements to conceal what they had done. Other voices have suggested that regardless of the specifics, the incident is simply too distant to remain relevant.
What's left to come out after eight years?Starc asked this week.
The answer is everything, because nothing of substance ever truly has emerged. Every player and staff member from 2018 publicly maintains an uncomfortable understanding that was established within days of the incident: that no Australian players had tampered with the ball before that match, and that nobody beyond the three charged individuals knew about it. A superficial disciplinary process allowed Cricket Australia to reach these conveniently tidy conclusions without investigating further or uncovering anything more troubling.
This explains why an old story continues to pulse with life, like a severed electrical wire still carrying current. Cricket Australia's disciplinary report identified Warner as the instigator, Bancroft as the person who carried out the act, and Smith as the captain who failed to prevent it. Yet no player has ever stated plainly what actually occurred, either during the tour or on the day in question. The closest any came was a 2021 statement from the four bowlers asserting that they had no knowledge of the plan, but even then, they declined to specify who did know. They have not said who didn't know. No player has stated whether any coaches were aware or unaware. Everyone has remained diplomatically vague, hoping to avoid the appearance of blame-shifting and trusting that the story would eventually fade.
Warner, for his part, has spent years suggesting he was treated unfairly. In recent days, he has resumed this effort through social media posts and replies designed to introduce doubt about whether he bore primary responsibility. Yet he continues to withhold any information that would substantiate his claims. His former teammates will not name Warner, and Warner will not name them. Stories only disappear when their mysteries are solved, and the resolution of this one remains elusive.
The broader context of the scandal has evolved considerably. After the incident, coach Darren Lehmann announced his resignation before the final Test, and two reviews followed, including a comprehensive examination of cricket culture in Australia. The Ethics Centre's investigation produced a 147-page report containing 41 recommendations, finding that an excessive focus on winning had corroded the organisation's culture and values. This institutional reckoning may have contributed to a shift in how the Australian team presents itself to the world.
Despite its exhausting repetition in media coverage, the sandpaper scandal may ultimately have benefited Australian cricket, at least in cultural terms. It punctured the obsession with aggressive, hard-edged masculinity that had characterised previous champion teams and made them widely disliked. In its place has emerged a cohort of players who, to international audiences familiar with the scandal's history, appear surprisingly personable and measured. They may still face criticism for their on-field performance, but less so for their personalities. When England supporters attempted to direct anger at Cummins and wicketkeeper Alex Carey following the Lord's Test in 2023, the effort fell flat—hating two of the game's most genuinely decent figures proved a difficult sell. On the field, this cultural shift has cost nothing in terms of results: the team has retained the Ashes in England twice, won them in Australia twice, developed a compelling rivalry against India, secured Test series victories in four other countries, and claimed two World Cup titles plus a Test Championship.
The transformation in cultural style would not have been achievable without the shock that preceded it and the rare collective acknowledgment that the national team required fundamental change. The 2018 series, which ended 3-1 to South Africa, served as that catalyst. With fortune, the upcoming series will satisfy the inevitable callbacks to this history, allowing the sandpaper narrative to continue its retreat and the cultural improvements that followed it to be consolidated.
Yet the players involved should understand that truths do not rest until they are spoken aloud. Australia's two-day tour match against the Cricket South Africa Invitation XI in Potchefstroom ended in a draw on 4 October, marking the beginning of the team's preparation for the formal series. This story will persist for years to come unless it is finally laid to rest by those who know what actually happened.
What happens next
The first Test is scheduled for 9–13 October in Durban, followed by matches in Gqeberha on 18–22 October and Cape Town on 27–31 October. The return to Cape Town, where the original incident occurred in 2018, will carry particular symbolic weight as the teams meet again after eight years.
