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buy skelaxin No, this was not the greatest victory of them all. But for Australia, it felt like one of the sweetest. Written off after their first day collapse, pilloried for once again failing to match the mouthiness of their pre-series confidence with the eloquence of their performances on the field, the Australians responded with three virtually flawless days of cricket, in which they set aside the fragilities and insecurities of the first series in England and chased their opponents down like a crack team of silently efficient pursuit cyclists, a machine built for massacre and nothing else. There was something hard and unsentimental about this performance; watching it, I kept thinking back, involuntarily, to Steve Waugh’s face, crow’s feet settled implacably around the dark nuggets of pitilessness he used for eyes. This was a victory fit to remind you of those eyes. The sun-damaged, fly-bitten, squinty Australian swagger of old, for now, has returned; and the Ashes are suddenly, thrillingly, magnificently alive.