Thanks to the wonders of (and, perhaps more wondrous yet, my adoption of) modern technology, I am currently listening to ABC Grandstand as South Africa, somewhat fittingly, battle to save the game and the series on what is their captain Graeme Smith’s last day of international cricket.

It is a truism that a cricket team plays in the mould of its captain, and this has been especially true of South Africa under Smith. They may not have won a global tournament, but the “chokers” tag no longer applies to a team that holds the ICC Test Championship Mace and has made a habit of winning and saving Test matches.

Another truism is that much is revealed in the fourth innings of a Test. Obviously the outcome of the match, but also the character of individuals and teams, and this is where Smith and his side are held up in a blindingly good light. Smith’s fourth innings stats are incredible: 1611 runs at 51.96 with four centuries – each scored in a winning cause. Indeed, his stats in fourth innings wins are peerless: 1141 runs at 87.76. I will always remember Smith for his match-winning 154 not out at Edgbaston in 2008.

It takes a singular character to play a significant knock in the last innings of a Test match, especially when trying to save a game. One who can either bat with no heed to the context of the game, in the bubble, or who can find motivation by turning not losing into the new winning. For the former, think Alastair Cook and Jonathan Trott at Brisbane in 2010 – a last innings to all intents and purposes when it began, even if it didn’t turn out that way. For the latter, think Michael Atherton at The Wanderers in 1995. Whether in winning or saving a match, the fourth innings can be defined, bloody-mindedly, by one man. Think Graeme Smith.

They can also be team efforts, though. Think Graeme Smith’s South Africa. And, to be fair, England under Andy Flower, who made a habit of snatching draws from the jaws of defeat, starting at Cardiff in 2009..

Jimmy Anderson and Monty Panesar somehow surviving is a cricketing JFK moment, and  I can remember exactly where I was. I was on a train. On my way back from Cardiff.

Of course a part of me had doubted the wisdom of leaving an Ashes Test early, but at the time it had seemed like the right thing to do. My mate James had checked the trains, and it was either leave at tea and get home at a reasonable hour, or … Or what? The final over before tea had sealed the deal, Peter Siddle peppering Graeme Swann. England didn’t stand a chance. Why stay and watch the humiliation of an innings defeat? We all know how it panned out, and my I Was There story is told with emphasis on the Was.

Following on from Cardiff, there were the two efforts on the 2009/10 tour to South Africa, Brisbane 2010, and Auckland last year. While each of these great escapes had their bloody-minded heroes (usually Paul Collingwood), they were, above all, team efforts. They had to be, 9 wickets down, and they bear testimony to the team spirit fostered by Flower, the seeds sown by Nasser Hussain, Duncan Fletcher, and the advent of central contracts.

These draws fly in the face of history and logic, however. Much more likely are capitulations like that seen in the first Test of the recent Ashes series, and, when the psychology of the last innings is considered, it is not hard to see why. Imagine how easy it was to be Michael Clarke, having just spanked a hundred and holding all the cards: new ball, fresh and confident bowlers, and the ace that was Mitchell Johnson. Time and runs were pretty much out of the equation. It was all about those ten England wickets. He could be as funky and attacking as he liked. Eleven against two, out in the middle. The home crowd roaring them on.

Now imagine being an England batsman. You’re knackered for a start, from chasing leather in the hot sun. You might have failed in the first innings, falling to a carefully laid plan. A glance at the scoreboard wouldn’t help. I’m a competitive soul, but in that situation I am sure I would think, however subconsciously, what is the point? Yes, there is pride and competitive spirit, but does that defeatist thought permeate through a dressing room? Attitudes are contagious, it wouldn’t take much – a couple of early wickets, say.

Add in the habit of losing the first Test of an overseas tour, and England’s second innings should have come as no surprise. For all that the Brisbane defeat was a regression to the dark days of the 1990s, there were still plenty of straws to clutch. Brisbane, like so many first Tests of overseas tours, wasn’t a true reflection of this England team, was it? For all that the 3-0 scoreline in the summer was not a true reflection of the merits of the two sides, Australia hadn’t suddenly become world beaters – just as England hadn’t suddenly become whipping boys. Adelaide would be different, we thought.

Only it wasn’t. Almost a carbon copy, in fact. The toss didn’t help, but a thrashing at Adelaide – flat, bat-friendly Adelaide, where South Africa had batted forever to save a Test in 2012 – was a clear indication that Flower’s England were not the side they once were.

As I write, the same cannot be said of Graeme Smith’s South Africa. Despite another Smith – Steve – just getting Faf du Plessis LBW, South Africa still have an outside chance of pulling off one last unlikely draw. They have one more session and three more wickets to give Smith a fitting send off.