Theory holds that in day-night Test cricket, you have to make your hay while the sun shines. But in this first iteration of the form, the day is proving more difficult than the night. On Friday, New Zealand lost five wickets in the second session, long before the floodlights were switched on. On Saturday, Australia reciprocated by surrendering six wickets in the first session, and ultimately an oppressively large first innings lead, all under a brilliant sun.
On day two, pink-ball Test cricket lost some of its lustre to Australians. One moral was clear, that low-scoring Test cricket generally is more fascinating than a runfest. This was developing into a classic of the type, making haste slowly towards what could yet be a grandstand finish. In the second Test in Perth, six centuries were scored. At the end of the first innings here, only two batsmen had reached 50, and it was reaching, not passing. Not for the first time this year, Australia's batting floundered against skilful swing and seam bowling, and then, less predictably, against finger spin that was at best earnest. Adam Voges was peeled open by Tim Southee, who in three successive balls produced a thick edge, a leading edge and then a snick to slip. 
Shaun Marsh's run out reinforced the idea that he is a fated Test cricketer. Brendon McCullum made something of his nothing with his dive, stop and off-balance throw, but equally, Marsh made nothing of something with his muteness and hesitation. Mitch, his brother, soon followed, edging Doug Bracewell's away-cutter. For all his immense promise, he is yet to demonstrate that he is a worthy Test No.6.
All this, Steve Smith saw and weathered. His least appreciated virtue is his an almost Boycott-ian stoicism, as if taking perverse pleasure in doing nothing. Sometimes in Test cricket, the most important thing to do is nothing. Of course, it wasn't really nothing. Smith played each ball on its merit, and most were highly meritorious, but whenever he could ease a run, he did. It took him almost three hours to make 50. At that point, he appeared to have outlasted the New Zealanders.
Then McCullum turned his attack over to his off-spinners, with spectacular results. Mark Craig has been as threatening as baby food in this series, and in his first over must have looked to Smith like another serving of puree. As in Marsh's dismissal, there was an element of follow-the-bouncing-ball about it all. Smith charged at Craig, but managed only a thin edge. BJ Watling caught it, but saw Smith darting for the crease and reflexively moved to make the stumping, too, only to notice that the umpire had his finger up. In any case, Smith was on his way.
Peter Siddle followed in the same over, and Josh Halzewood three overs later, a maiden Test victim for the left-armer Mitch Santner, and Australia went to lunch with their tails between their legs.
New Zealand's attack had been every bit as concerted as Australia's on Friday, each man at his end fortifying and bidding up the work his mate at the other. But it was only a part alibi for 8-116.
One farcical development remained soon after lunch, when Nathan Lyon swished at Santner, the ball was taken at slip, whereupon a review was ordered.
After an inordinately long time, Lyon thought he saw enough on the scoreboard screen to suggest that he was out, and walked two-thirds of the way to the fence, but the third umpire's decision when it finally came was not out, and so for perhaps the first time in Test cricket, a batsman who had walked continued his innings. It must have been the sun; it was still shining brightly then.
Buoyed, Lyon then set about the New Zealand bowlers with a No.11's blithe ambition, and in the blink of an eye, he and Peter Nevill had put on 50. In the context of this match, they were big runs.
There have been days and years when such struggling sort of day for Australia would have fomented unrest among the rowdies under the Adelaide Oval scoreboard, increasing in volume and ugliness as the sun beat down. Now, though, one of the incidental benefits of the game's new parameter became apparent: the sun went down, and with it the heat.