Compare them with opening combinations of the past. Did you ever see Greenidge and Haynes against spin? By the time they’d seen off the pace bowlers, they’d done all their damage. By the time Langer and Hayden do the same, they’re only just beginning. Three figures on the board only seem to famish their craving. Their teamwork against spin is beautifully thought out. Against South African offie Claude Henderson, they displayed the variety two southpaws can bring. Henderson delivered around the wicket and across to Hayden, who did most of his scoring on leg, sweeping resolutely, employing his newly-acquired quick step inside the line. Henderson held that line to Langer, and saw ball after ball rattle the off-side pickets. Their series-saving partnership of 102 in the second innings at Johannesburg early this year came mainly at the expense of the sometimes-baffling Paul Adams. 36 came off his first five overs.

In making comparisons, we shouldn’t underestimate the bowling they’ve faced. Before their stultifying attacks on Pollock, Kallis, Donald and Ntini here, those bowlers were considered the equal of the Australians, especially on our own pitches. Ominous noises accompanied each leg of the series. This was to be a legitimate world championship. Little noise has been made since. Their fate was established when Hayden and Langer got 80 on the first morning in Adelaide. Then 202 in Melbourne; 219 in Sydney. On the first day of the third Test in Sydney, Pollock and Donald, sharp and full of revenge, got the ball to seam extravagantly. 219 runs later, they were still looking at Hayden and Langer.

Charismatic and fundamentalist. Their strength is that of other great openers: selection, determination, simplicity and technique. But they continue to write the Amplified version. They’ve been a study in the art of partnership batting. New or old, a loose ball is still a chance for maximum runs. This brings immediate pressure to do what few can: bowl tight and fast from the outset. When tightness comes, they rotate the strike. Either way, the scoreboard never rests, and this forces the harried opposition to make hasty decisions. So decisive are they these days that even a shunned stroke sends out a strong message that there is design behind every decision. You can see them appropriate the power a fielding side usually has over two isolated batsmen, celebrating each little victory along the way, even when the rest of us remain unsure as to the nature of that little victory. Langer was overjoyed at Hayden’s 136 against New Zealand at the Gabba (he got 104). “It was a highlight of my career, seeing Haydos get a century here in Brisbane. I know how long he’s been waiting for it.”

The cavalcade of great openers features some of cricket’s most unusual and independent characters: Hutton, Hobbs, Sutcliffe, Gavaskar, Lawry, Fredericks, Ponsford, Boycott. Even the great combinations were not necessarily great team players. Rather, they’re cricket’s pioneers. The Boers of the game, under siege from the malicious attacks of mercurial, ferocious adversaries. Hayden and Langer have no such grimness about them. In one of sport’s most fearsome occupations, their antidote to fear is fun. Against blazing pace they love their role as Australia’s firewall.

It’s not the light of their revelation, but its darkness, that fascinates our press. Only a venial competitiveness keeps them this side of idolatry. Langer’s been known to give bowlers plenty, sometimes unceasingly, and has demonstrated reluctance to leave the crease after the fatal finger has gone up. Hayden, the affable antagonist, has served many a batsman with pungent observations about their prospects, garnished with obscenities, as though he’d prefer to greet them togged up in Lincoln green rather than the traditional creams.

Much-lampooned for their mid-pitch embraces, Matthew Hayden and Justin Langer have had more to celebrate in a short time than any opening pair in history. During one monster partnership, mid-pitch, Langer told Hayden he felt like he was playing backyard cricket. Hayden pointed to the badge on his helmet and reminded him of the significance of their achievement. He had a point. No matter what else happens, they have, like their team, toppled tradition.

The custodians of that tradition, bless ‘em, point to longevity as the measure of greatness. They point out that Langer might already be faltering. Critics, those tin Tarquins in search of tall poppies, have been kept at bay only by their wild success. If one stumbles, their pens will gush retrospective wisdom about inflated averages and average opposition, as if any era would withstand such fastidious scrutiny. The fact is, Langer-Hayden has a compelling case for immortality. Even if they never scale those heights again, their flag is firmly planted at the summit. When they passed their 1000 runs together – which is when the metre of greatness is usually turned on – they were, by light years, the best-performed opening partnership in history, 25 ahead of Hobbs and Sutcliffe’s average; eleven and a half years ahead of Greenidge and Haynes’ record for double-ton stands; Their strike rate of 60 is light years ahead of any other combination that has passed the thousand-run mark.