Smith felt humiliated. Maybe he did not want to dishonour the cap by wearing it on such a day. He confessed that he was embarrassed to be where he was, describing – yet nowhere near explaining — his team's performance. "We were not good enough." ''We have to turn it around." ''We have to spend more time in the middle," he said, and yet "the middle", from the glaze on his eyes, might have been as far away as Xanadu. Over and over, he said the Australian team had to be more "resilient". Yet apart from the soothing effect of repeating a good word, he was short on explaining how. "We have to be better," he said. If he could not bleed for the cap, the obvious would do the job for him.

Tellingly, he would not back his players or the selectors who had given them to him, but he did back the coach, Darren Lehmann, for preparing the team as well as possible.

From a corporate point of view, the operation was a success, even if the patient had died.

Perhaps more revealing than Smith's embarrassment was that of his South African counterpart. Faf du Plessis spoke pityingly of Australia. To have come here and won a series within eight days of cricket, to stand on the brink of a first-ever whitewash of Australia in Australia in a three-Test series, had a hollow feel.

Du Plessis all but admitted he felt sorry for the hosts. There was no gloating, no South African spunk. In its place was genuine sympathy. The Australians are clearly down on confidence, du Plessis said, and are finding it hard to fake it. He said he was surprised that the match in Hobart had ended so quickly, although Australia's collapse of eight wickets for 32 runs on Tuesday morning, to follow 10 for 85 here on Saturday and 10 for 86 last week in Perth, must surely lessen the surprise each time it happens.

Kyle Abbott, man of the match for his nine wickets and relentless consistency, was also shocked. Like du Plessis, he looked like he wanted to find Smith and give him a big hug.

The win almost felt unearned.

While they were too decent to brag, the South Africans had been quite superb, and the Australians truly played only as well as their opposition allowed. Abbott and Vernon Philander picked away at Australia's wounds, which had healed somewhat on Monday afternoon, until they were gaping again. Abbott's dismantling of Usman Khawaja, Australia's top scorer in the second innings, was surgical. Good length ball after good length ball had Khawaja in a torment of playing and missing and streakily edging, before the short ball lured the fatal swipe. Smith paid credit for the South Africans' ability to bowl six good balls an over, and it was an astute observation: the Australian bowlers might send down five such balls, beating the edge, but not the punchline.

Kagiso Rabada had been as much of a threat as a promise in these conditions. Even while lurking in the background, he must have preyed on the batsmen's minds. On Tuesday morning he could no longer be held back. Four Australians were caught in eight different minds between them. Adam Voges somehow hit Rabada to gully while attempting to stop playing a pull shot. Callum Ferguson tried to leave a ball that did not want to leave him.

Peter Nevill copped a brute. These are not bad batsmen, and their records merited their selection, yet they are performing like the boy in the Gary Larson cartoon who is straining to push the door open when the sign above their head says PULL.

Embarrassment was the only appropriate response from Australia. But from South Africa? Their embarrassment, on the hosts' behalf, is a terrible and possibly unprecedented insult to Australian cricket. The South African changing room was a quiet place after the match. Victory against Australia, in Australia, was meant to come harder than this. In Adelaide, the Proteas might even take it a little easy on these meek, confused, pitiable Australians. Surely that would be the insult to end them all.