Stuart Broad Refuses to Walk Despite Massive Edge — Ashes 2013

Stuart Broad had been a thorn in Australia's side throughout his career, but the 2013 Ashes at Trent Bridge gave him the opportunity to become their most infuriating nemesis. The series was tense, the rivalry fierce, and DRS had just been introduced — though Australia famously chose not to use it for this series, a decision that would haunt them for years.

Broad was a capable lower-order batsman who could frustrate opponents, but his batting was secondary to his bowling. On this occasion, batting at number nine, he found himself in a situation where every run counted — England were trying to build a meaningful lead that would put Australia under pressure.

The relationship between Australia and England during Ashes series had always been combative, but 2013 was particularly heated. Both teams were well aware that gamesmanship, walking disputes, and the spirit of cricket were all fair game in the psychological warfare that defines the oldest rivalry in international cricket.

Australia had Australia had been chipping away at the England batting lineup, and Broad came to the crease in a situation requiring patience and grit. Spinner Peter Siddle was bowling with purpose, and the Australians were confident they were on top. The field was up, the crowd was buzzing, and every delivery felt significant.

The delivery in question came from Siddle — an outswinger that Broad attempted to leave but got a thick outside edge. The sound of leather on willow was audible and unmistakable. Brad Haddin, the wicketkeeper, caught it comfortably. Every Australian player began celebrating immediately, absolutely certain of the wicket.

What happened next was Broad's face — or rather, what didn't happen on Broad's face. No flinch, no grimace, no instinctive look back at the stumps or the keeper. Just a mask of complete and total blankness. He didn't walk. He stood there. And the umpire gave him not out.

During the 2013 Ashes at Trent Bridge, Stuart Broad produced one of cricket's most brazen moments of gamesmanship. He edged a delivery so thickly that the sound was picked up by microphones in the car park. The ball flew to slip, was caught, and the Australians celebrated wildly, confident in the knowledge that they had just taken a wicket that was more obvious than daylight.

There was just one problem — Broad didn't walk. He stood at the crease with the poker face of a professional gambler who had just been dealt a terrible hand and decided to bluff the entire table. He showed absolutely no indication that he'd hit the ball, maintaining an expression of innocent bewilderment that would have convinced a jury if it hadn't been for the fifteen camera angles all showing the edge. The umpire, Aleem Dar, gave him not out. Australia didn't have any DRS reviews left. Broad stayed.

The Australian players looked like they were going to spontaneously combust. Their expressions cycled through disbelief, outrage, fury, and finally a kind of grudging, horrified admiration at the sheer audacity of what they were witnessing. Captain Michael Clarke's reaction was the kind of emotional journey normally reserved for people receiving very bad news at hospitals.

What made it truly entertaining was how obvious the edge was. It wasn't a faint nick — it was an edge you could hear from the stands, from the hospitality boxes, possibly from the M1 motorway. Broad's expression of studied innocence, his casual lean on his bat while Australia protested, and his cheerful continuation of batting as if nothing had happened was either admirable gamesmanship or outrageous cheek, depending on your nationality. He went on to make 65 — runs that may well have decided the match.

Australian newspapers printed his photo with headlines that are not reproducible in a family publication. The incident became shorthand for the "walking" debate in cricket — should a batsman voluntarily give himself out when he knows he's edged it, or is it the umpire's job?

“I'm not going to walk. It's the umpire's decision. I wait for the umpire's decision.”

“It was the most blatant nick I've ever seen. And he just stood there. I couldn't believe it.”

“You could hear the edge from the press box. You could probably hear it in the car park.”

“DRS would have sorted it. Not having DRS was the biggest mistake we made in that series.”

Australian newspapers went absolutely feral. Broad was depicted as a cheat, a scoundrel, and various other terms that fell well outside acceptable publishing standards. The Sydney Morning Herald devoted its front page to the incident. Social media — still relatively young in 2013 — generated weeks of outrage that could be measured in megatons.

The incident reopened the age-old debate about walking in cricket. Should batsmen voluntarily walk when they know they're out, or is it entirely the umpire's job? Broad's camp argued the latter. Australia's camp argued with somewhat more colourful vocabulary.

England won the Trent Bridge Test and eventually the Ashes 3-0. The DRS review that Australia had used earlier — the one that meant they couldn't challenge Broad's not-out — became one of sport's great "what ifs." Had they not used that review, had they been able to challenge Dar's decision, the entire series might have been different.