Nathan Lyon exposes tourists' flaws and eases into Australia's record books | Geoff Lemon

Off-spinner and Pat Cummins looked as if they had never been away as the hosts' attack proved too hot to handle

For Nathan Lyon it had been a case of wait and wait and wait. It was 6 July this year when he took a return catch from Jayden Seales, wrapping up the second Test against West Indies in Grenada with his career worth 562 Test wickets. Right behind Glenn McGrath's 563, Lyon might have anticipated a week before moving to second place on the all-time Australian list, an off-spinner of modest flair and self-belief sitting behind the market leader in both those traits, Shane Warne.

Instead, Lyon was left out in Jamaica, spitting plantain chips even as Australia's four quicks humbled West Indies for 143 and 27. That meant four and a half more months until the next Test, the start of the Ashes in Perth. Never mind, he could pass McGrath in front of a home crowd. Nope. Two overs in the first innings, none in the second, England folding twice too quickly to need a spinner. Then to Brisbane, an angry Lyon left out for four quicks again.

He was back for Adelaide, but more waiting was imminent. Australia batted first. The second day was a stinker. A heartbreaker. A backbreaker. A bowler-breaker. The gauge nudged above 40, but the lived experience was well beyond numbers. The sun bit. It clawed. It was so hot that spectating in the shade with a cold drink was taxing. The only contest was about which group of people were more mad: the cricketers in the middle, or the group of New Zealanders on the hill dressed as traffic cones. One lot were paid handsomely and looked after by medical professionals, the other were presumably rolled out of their tubes of fluorescent sweaty foam at the end of the day in a slurry of human sous vide.

In any case, a smart team, a sensible team, an adequately equipped team, would have known that this was a day to make Australia suffer. They would have known about Lyon's numbers and angst and edginess, and solemnly pledged to make him wait some more. Had his spells worn on into a wicketless afternoon, he might have started to unravel. As might Pat Cummins on his return from troublesome vertebrae, when a ruthless team would aim to push him to re-breaking point.

Instead, with Lyon brought on for the 10th over of England's first innings, it was suddenly a case of wait no more. After Ollie Pope's harried and harrowing tour had added a few deeply confused shots in a matter of minutes, Pope stretched his front leg down at Lyon's third delivery and flicked it, catching-practice style, from outside off stump to midwicket. Three balls later Lyon produced off-spin perfection, drawing Ben Duckett's defence down the wrong line before turning past it to the left-hander's off stump.

There went career wickets 563 and 564 in his first over, letting Lyon relax into the rest of his day's work. Cummins was already in the book by then, looking every millimetre his usual self: full pace, the slight angle in at the right-hander, the slight deck away, hitting the pitch from a perfect wrist. First he achieved the rare feat of getting Zak Crawley out to a sensible shot: the right ball to defend, the right line to play down, nicking anyway. In his subsequent spell Cummins did the same for Joe Root, shuffling slightly wider but only trying to keep the ball out, Cummins moving clear of any other bowler by dismissing Root for a 12th time in Tests.

Both bowlers' returns, both so easy, felt calculated as insults to the visitors. All this angst about England's preparation and their failure to acclimatise: whether they should have played one game, no games, 10 games, mini golf, whether they should have moved to Fremantle for five months on a working holiday visa to be baristas. Then there is Cummins, rolling up after five months without a first-class match and, like seasonally relevant religious figures, delivering the immaculate. He added Jamie Smith's wicket via the pull shot later, while two remain to fall on day three.

This is, to risk an observation as blindingly obvious as the Adelaide sun, the difference between having really good bowlers who keep on putting the ball in the right place, and having Brydon Carse. It's not that the Australians didn't have to work for their wickets, it's that their work was quality and their reward commensurate. Jofra Archer, on the other hand, toiled into the second morning to take five Australian wickets, only for his teammates to have him back out there batting for the last hour of the day. By stumps he had outscored seven of them. Some can take the heat. Some are taken.