Osman Samiuddin

Mohammad Yousuf's potential loss will be a big blow to the PCB © AFP

Rare is the issue in Pakistan cloaked in black, white and little else. The deeper you delve, the more complex it gets; contradiction, hypocrisy, incompetence, lies, and sometimes facts, happily swim together in this cesspool, where nothing is really right or wrong. So it is with the decision of four active internationals to sign up with the Indian Cricket League, and maybe sign away what remains of their Pakistan careers.

What you also find is bristling diversity of opinion here. So for every person who says the PCB is incompetent, uncaring, and has driven its players away, another will chip in about the mercenary nature of the modern cricketer. The media, newly loud and proud, captures it best; one article in The News vented fury at the greed of the players, while the cartoonist down at The Post did likewise at the board. Both views are forceful, neither is wrong; but they should not be mutually exclusive either.

The matter is indeed complex. Last year Mohammad Yousuf was the best batsman in the
world, in the form of his life. Soon, at 32, he might be banned from playing for Pakistan. He has reason to be aggrieved, dropped as he was from the Twenty20 squad - not for a youngster, which would have at least had the benefit of logic and planning, but for Misbah-ul-Haq, which has neither.

Yet should Yousuf be so hurt by an omission from, essentially, a lesser format of the game as to risk his entire future with Pakistan in one almighty petulant fit? And just how well does his image as a deeply religious and spiritual man, free from material trappings, sit with his keenness to play in a league where only the financial details seem to have been finalised?

Abdul Razzaq eagerly became the poor, victimised, senior servant of Pakistan cricket, forced out before his time. Injury forced him to miss the World Cup, after which, he complained, the board didn't bother calling him even once. If true, it is indeed a sad, damning indictment of how the PCB treats its commodities.

As sad, perhaps, as Razzaq's reaction to his dropping from the Twenty20 squad. One omission is all it took for him to renounce international cricket. Had they Razzaq's stomach for a fight, Graeme Hick, Mark Ramprakash and Sourav Ganguly - no strangers to axes or comebacks - would have committed suicide long ago. Forget that Razzaq's form in the last two years, under any microscope, from any angle, given any spin, called for no better than the chop.

And what to make of Imran Farhat? Some injustice has been done, it is true. He was dropped just before the World Cup, having been persisted with for some time, for Imran Nazir, who hadn't played an international in nearly three years. But from the way Farhat attacked selectors and justified his joining the ICL, you'd think Don Bradman had been axed, not a man who, after six years in the game, averages 33 in Tests and 30 in ODIs with three international hundreds.

Inzamam-ul-Haq's choice is of a different nature altogether; not only is he, at 37, not in the team's current plans, even if he was, it would not have been for much longer. And he fits the ICL profile; nearing the end of his career, this is an opportunity not to be spurned.

If we're being ruthlessly honest, then Yousuf's potential loss is the greatest. The PCB has already acknowledged as much, albeit a little tactlessly. If pushed, a future without Farhat, Razzaq and Inzamam is tangible, but without Yousuf? Reconciling, as Pakistan must, to a middle order without Inzamam is difficult enough; without Yousuf as well it hardly bears thinking about.

Ultimately, that the only active internationals to sign are from Pakistan says as much about the players as it does about the board, but it says most about the traditionally fractious relationship between the two. None of these players was bound to inform the board of his decision, and none except Yousuf did; the board's failure to contact Yousuf or Razzaq when central contracts were being signed was similarly telling.

Now, four days later, little save vague noises about bans and reconciliation with Yousuf emerge from board officials. Having maintained loudly that joining the ICL would result in life bans - and having been subsequently caught off guard - a u-turn for an administration increasingly renowned for them, is not ruled out.

What to make of it all? Feel first for Geoff Lawson, who was welcomed to Pakistan with this development, a greeting that, for novelty, is up there with eskimos rubbing noses. Then resign yourself to the methods of Ardeshir Cowasjee, that irascible, legendary columnist who, when writing of Pakistan's muddy politics, often invokes the famous Urdu proverb: Iss hamaam mein sab nangey hein (All are naked in this bathhouse).

Us against the establishment: So much for a new era in which the players are supposedly considered shareholders in South African cricket © Getty Images

Ken Borland

South Africa's cricketers were probably contemplating their increased earning potential and a healthy relationship with Cricket South Africa (CSA) when their groundbreaking memorandum of understanding was unveiled a month ago. But the last week has been a traumatic one, with the players feeling that the board has turned on them.

It all came to a head with Jacques Kallis's exclusion from the squad for the Twenty20
World Championship, which South Africa's premier cricketer has taken as a slight on his ability - not forgetting the wad of money (about R280,000, or £19,000) he will lose out on by not playing in the tournament.

And now his fellow senior pro, Mark Boucher, stands to lose a healthy amount of his own hard-earned for speaking out in favour of his colleague. "He's the best allrounder we've ever had and he's saved more games than anyone realises," Boucher said. "He is a far better one-day player than he is given credit for. It is either those who have an issue with him, and have a chip on their shoulders, or those who have ulterior motives." These comments landed Boucher in a disciplinary hearing, for which the finding is expected soon.

Boucher will argue that CSA came down disproportionately hard on him and many observers believe it is no coincidence that the conflict has coincided with the rise of Norman Arendse to the presidency. Arendse has been involved in many fiery disputes and his lack of sympathy for players was clear when he represented Zimbabwe Cricket with rottweiler-like aggression in their dealings with their own disenchanted players.

Boucher may yet win his case, but he and his team-mates have been shown in no uncertain terms that they work for a new boss who is poles apart from the man he replaced, the genial Ray Mali.

It is Kallis, however, who remains at the centre of this debate. While his record is immense, enough to rank him alongside Graeme Pollock and Barry Richards as the greatest of South African batsmen, there are still mutterings that he does not dominate bowling attacks enough. In particular, his failure to collar the Australians in the World Cup has been held against him. Kallis reacted to criticism over his slow scoring in the showpiece tournament in the Caribbean by getting out to uncharacteristic slogs in the crucial loss to New Zealand and the semi-final defeat to Australia.

South Africa's Twenty20 squad was actually chosen nearly a month ago, on the morning of the tournament launch in Johannesburg. So CSA and the selectors had at least two weeks in which to talk to Kallis and discuss the reasons for leaving him out.

Unsurprisingly, the player himself has not bought convenor Joubert Strydom's comments that Kallis has been "rested". Four one-day internationals in Ireland have been the only cricket he has played since the World Cup.

So how much consultation was there with the vice-captain before the shock announcement? None, it would seem. So much for a new era in which the players are supposedly considered shareholders in South African cricket. At the very least, CSA's man-management has been shocking.

It didn't take long for Kallis to figure out that the main reason for his omission was his batting style. Practically from the start of his international career, he has been told to stay in and be the rock around which an often fragile South African top order can bat, so his anger when this was used against him is understandable, even if his response was petulant.

The South African team certainly cannot afford to have Kallis selling his considerable wares to a salivating international market and, if the selectors had been thinking a bit more laterally, they may have spotted that the Twenty20 World Championship provides the ideal opportunity for their star batsman to shake off the shackles that he believes have been imposed on him by the last five national coaches.

Do Cricket South Africa want to get even more out of their champion run-scorer or do Arendse and Co want to punish him for that semi-final defeat to Australia? Either way, it has been the stickiest of starts to the new season in South Africa, after it all looked so promising a month ago.

Jayaditya Gupta

The Sharad Pawar-led BCCI has some tough decisions ahead of it © AFP

After more than four months of acting coy, the Indian Cricket League (ICL) has made as bold a statement as possible, parading the 48 Indian cricketers and naming the six overseas players who will form the backbone of its inaugural season. It is as much a statement of intent as a challenge to the Indian board, with which it has been shadow-boxing since the gauntlet was first thrown in April.

The matter is now out in the open; the ICL is an entity the BCCI - nor, indeed, the ICC, which is yet to take a clear stand - cannot wish away. It is faced with a situation it must deal with, and swiftly. It must size up the pros and cons of its current hard line with one eye on the longer term, something it is not always adept at doing. Conventional wisdom says it will not shift from that stand yet this may be the time for some unconventional thinking.

At stake is not just the future of 48 Indian cricketers, though that is weighty enough; an entire domestic season could be held hostage to the simmering feud. Four top Ranji sides - Bengal, Tamil Nadu, Punjab and Hyderabad - have each lost at least half a dozen players, some of whom have the potential to go beyond domestic cricket. More will join the new league, because it still needs another 40-odd players to make up the numbers. If all these players are subsequently unable to play domestic cricket in India, the effect could be crippling.

And that will be the BCCI's greatest challenge: Playing out its role as the custodian of all Indian cricket and ignoring its more natural instinct to protect a smaller piece of turf, precisely the attitude that has given the ICL enough fertile ground to sow the seeds of secession.

If you want one reason why the ICL exists today, here it is: The BCCI is a monopolistic institution that has not modernised and has, till very recently, focused its attentions on international cricket. The public was obsessed with the identity of stars who would or wouldn't, had or hadn't signed up with the league. However, not a thought was spared for those who keep the wheels of Indian cricket moving - the journeymen first-class players, the umpires, the scorers, the faceless people who perform thankless tasks so that, every season, a Karthik or a Sreesanth or a Chawla comes along.

There is no evidence at hand that the ICL will address the problems of these people. It is, after all, a stated commercial venture. But it has entered a vacuum created by the board's inability - unwillingness, even - to see cricket in terms of a sport to be nurtured and see it instead as a cash cow to be milked. This fight, stripped of all ideological posturing, may be about TV ratings and the advertising revenue they bring in but the ICL is likely to tap into the feelings of insecurity and neglect among those who live in the shadows, feelings that prompted the likes of Abhishek Jhunjhunwala, 24, one of the architects of Bengal's road to the Ranji final last season, to sign up and sign away his India cap.

All this invests in the ICL a greater responsibility to safeguard the future of those who have, as Kapil Dev emotionally put it, had the courage to take their own decisions. If the BCCI remains truculent and slaps the ban it has threatened, the ICL must ensure that the players - not exactly the cream of India but honest practitioners of the game - are not left in limbo. In other words, the Zee group, the ICL's parent company, must not pull the rug from under its feet if the whole venture stops making business sense.

Much of that, in turn, will depend on the quality of cricket the ICL will offer, and the jury is out on that. Suffice to say that few of the players named today are Twenty20 experts; most have made their name in longer versions of the game and some, like Inzamam-ul Haq, are patently unsuited to the whirlwind pace of cricket's newest avatar. The problem can be partially offset, though, by smart packaging, for which the presence on board of Tony Greig and Dean Jones will come in handy.

Yet if the ICL has to establish its credibility - and at the moment the meter reading is set to zero - it can only do so with credible cricket. In many ways the easy bit is over. It is one thing to sign up players, quite another to motivate them when they joined for the money. What will they play for: Pride? Nationality? Regional affiliation?

Today was a day when Indian cricket could have celebrated the emergence, in keeping with trends in other spheres, of a money-spinning league promising more opportunities for its players. Instead there is concern over how it will impact the game in India. The problem is largely of the BCCI's own making; so, too, can be the solution.

Siddhartha Vaidyanathan

Dravid has used the experience of team-mates like Ganguly well, but there's no denying he needs someone to share the burden of leadership on a more consistent basis © AFP

"Undefeated after Chappell," bellowed a hack shortly after India's historic series win at The Oval. Following Greg Chappell's exit after the World Cup debacle, India have won two Test series - one of them admittedly against Bangladesh - and six one-dayers. A solitary defeat against South Africa in the first match of the Future Cup remains the only blemish.

Victory no doubt brings its own aura, but this India side looks like a team. The "divisive" senior players are nowhere in sight. What instead has been on view is camaraderie and a unity of purpose. It is early still to pass judgment on the coaching abilities of Venkatesh Prasad and Robin Singh, but it can be said that they have been matey, almost soothing figures compared to Chappell who was strong and dominating. There is a relaxed and open air to the dressing room now.

Both Prasad and Robin were part of the team until a few years ago. Both played under Sachin Tendulkar and Sourav Gangly and have immediately caught the pulse of the team. Both, players feel, know the extent to which they can push each cricketer and understand the pressures of playing for India. The bowlers' workloads were carefully handled in the series so far - India, remember, had only three frontline seamers and couldn't afford injuries to any. Greg King, the trainer, has gelled well with Prasad and Robin, while the venerable Chandu Borde, the manager, has chipped in with the odd piece of advice.

When he was standing at mid-off to the fast bowlers, Rahul Dravid had sounding boards in different parts of the field. Ganguly has been relied upon to assess pitches. Tendulkar, the vice-captain; Ganguly, the former captain; and VVS Laxman, the man who might have made a good captain, have chirped away in the slips. Anil Kumble, who has been strangely forgotten in the captaincy debates, has voiced his thoughts from gully. Dravid hasn't wasted the wealth of experience around him; he has solicited advice and weighed up options.

What happens in a couple of years' time, when India may have to do without five of their big guns? Don't they need someone who can get the next generation up to speed?

Insiders admit it has been a while since they saw the older players so chipper. Throughout the last year the seniors in the side were divided over Chappell, but his exit has had a healing effect.

Youngsters have been carried along. Not only have the senior players weighed in with their performances, they have also taken up mentoring roles. Dinesh Karthik has spent evenings with Tendulkar, the "greatest cricketer" he has seen; Sreesanth, overawed on the first morning at Lord's, has been "inspired" by Ganguly.

Inevitably this has prompted the question: do India really need a coach? Does any international team? The longer India's winning sequence lasts - and they start favourites for the seven-match one-day series against England - the louder will be the calls to stay without one. There is a view that the current set-up could deliver consistent success, and that an outsider coming in would mess up plans - which is a different tune from the one the players seemed to be unanimously singing a couple of months ago.

Current success will back up the argument, but the immediate present should not be allowed to obscure the big picture. While it will be tempting to maintain the status quo, the recent run of success won't have changed a few ground realities. The Indian administration and the team will do well to ask themselves a few questions.

Are India completely aware of the requirements of the modern game? Do they possess the creativity and vision needed to build a team for the future? Does the captain need someone to share his burden with? Do the current coaches need someone to guide them along?

Having been part of the team, Venkatesh Prasad knows the pressures of playing for India. He also knows how much he can push each of his bowlers © Getty Images

It's one thing to bask in the present but one needs to keep an eye on the future. A relaxed atmosphere is important but is there a risk of it getting too relaxed? Also, what happens in a couple of years' time, when India may have to do without five of their big guns? Don't they need someone who can get the next generation up to speed? Where does one look for leadership then?

Dravid himself, as ever, takes the measured view. "We've had some good success on this tour, but it will be too simplistic to say it's because we haven't had [a coach]," he said. "There are other factors that have gone into us playing well. You can't just focus on the coach.

"Sometimes you're in the team and looking at it from one perspective. People from outside can look at a team and see the direction it's going in. They must provide some intelligence and input as well."

India likely don't need another Chappell, who thought rocking the boat was the best way to steady it. But they perhaps need another John Wright. A quiet back-room worker, in tune with the requirements of modern game, strongly wedded to work ethic, who can be both friend and guide. Cricket will remain a game where the captain is the central figure, but the pressures of the modern game require him to have a sounding board, and someone to share the responsibilities and the attention. Particularly when things are not going well.

The captain knows what he expects of his bowlers, the bowling coach knows what they're capable of. RP Singh shouldn't need to go to Leicestershire to find out what his technical faults are; the problem should be diagnosed back home. A technically sound head coach to liaise between the two would serve the purpose. The position must be filled by a professional who prefers not to be seen but is a trusted man-manager. He needs to understand the players, yet crack the
whip. It's hard to say if there is anyone who meets all these requirements, but if he does exist, India need to grab him. The earlier the better.

Ian Chappell

The bowler-friendly wickets were among the things the series had going in its favour © Getty Images

The entertaining and competitive Test series between India and England provided much good cricket and plenty of food for thought. In addition to two evenly matched teams, good pitches and the swinging ball played their part in providing entertaining cricket.

There has been a tendency to produce flat pitches in limited-overs cricket and this may well have spilled over into the Test arena. However, the three English groundsmen for this series provided ample proof that a good cricket wicket, which allows the bowlers to compete on even terms, is the best ingredient for an entertaining match.

The coverage of grass on the Lord's pitch was beautifully even and provided a good surface for both batsmen and bowlers. In recent times grass has become a five-letter swear word to some players. Curators, too, need to be encouraged to restrict their shaving to what they do in front of the mirror in the morning. The part pitches play in maintaining the critical balance between bat and ball should never be overlooked.

Swing bowlers and wrist spinners are two of the most important attacking weapons in the game of cricket and both need to be encouraged. Mammoth first-innings totals lead to lop-sided contests but the swinging ball usually eradicates any such blights on the game.

Bouncy pitches are appreciated by every good player, but I'm also all for allowing bowlers one method of assisting the ball to swing, and making that method legal while outlawing every other form of ball-tampering. The teams could provide a list of their preferred methods of assisting the ball to swing and then the ICC would decide on the one to be legalised.

Ever since Adam Gilchrist hit the Test arena and international bowlers like a tornado, other teams have been trying to replicate his style of middle-order mayhem. England in particular have eschewed picking the best wicketkeepers in an attempt to get more runs from the lower order, and in doing so the selectors have ignored a couple of important factors.

Firstly, Gilchrist was always a wicketkeeper who just happened to also be a very destructive batsman. Secondly, an average of 40 runs from the wicketkeeper doesn't compensate for dropping catches off players of the calibre of Sachin Tendulkar and VVS Laxman.

The excuse that Matthew Prior, like everyone else, is entitled to a bad game overlooks a basic flaw in his game: his footwork is negligible and the practice drills he uses don't address this issue, making it highly unlikely there'll be any great improvement in his glove work. Once a keeper starts to cost a team in the field he should lose his Test place, and Prior has reached that point.

If England played four bowlers and used Paul Collingwood, Michael Vaughan and Kevin Pietersen to occasionally rest them they could bat Andrew Flintoff at No. 7 and then lower-order runs wouldn't be an issue. Good selection is about getting the right combination and England won't unearth that team while they continue to play poor wicketkeepers.

India did well to beat England 1-0, however they could easily have won the Oval Test if they'd enforced the follow-on. India were without a head coach on the tour but there was no shortage of advisors when it came time for the captain to decide on the follow-on. Captaincy by committee never works, because the responsibility for a poor decision falls squarely on the skipper's shoulders anyway.

The only question Rahul Dravid needed to ask at The Oval was: "Any injuries among the bowlers?" If there were no injuries then he should have enforced the follow-on, especially if he'd left the decision to the moment the tenth English first-innings wicket fell. By then it would have been obvious the overcast conditions favoured bowling. If England had followed-on, the game would have been all but over by the fourth evening.

However, being captain of India isn't as straightforward as leading, say, Australia. If Ricky Ponting makes a poor judgment, as he did during the 2005 Ashes series, his effigy isn't burned in the streets or his family threatened. This is why an Australian captain is able to challenge his team to become better, which gives him a considerable advantage over his Indian counterpart.

By the time the two teams meet in Australia later this year, India will have appointed a new coach, meaning there'll be an extra advisor adding to the long list already in Dravid's ear. This will make India's job of trying to beat Australia at home even more difficult - an extremely unpalatable thought for such a demanding cricket nation.

Vaneisa Baksh

Sarwan's claims are true about King's manner being rough, but there is evidence that the players have not been inclined to regard coaching instructions © AFP

Recent comments by West Indies captain Ramnaresh Sarwan while he was in Toronto for therapy for his shoulder injury have raised eyebrows and set tongues wagging. Sarwan was reported to have called former coach Bennett King the "worst coach" he had ever had, and to have said King's manner was aggressive and intimidated younger players.

Much speculation has been raised over the timing of Sarwan's remarks, especially as King had returned to Australia a couple of months ago. Had Sarwan been waiting for the new administration to be assembled before airing his gripe? It seems more likely that Sarwan was simply responding to a pointed question and his remarks were neither premeditated nor part of some unfolding strategy.

His history alone reveals the likeliness of this: Sarwan is a chatterbox and will talk freely once he gets going. Perhaps the acupuncture treatment made him more relaxed and inclined to greater frankness, but it is unlikely that he has been biding time and planning a hit.

Yet hit he did. Not only at Bennett King, towards whom his remarks were scathing, but also at his former captain, Brian Lara. Sarwan was bitter as he spoke of the circumstances under which he was dropped for the second Test against Pakistan at Multan in 2006.

"I was in the dressing room on the morning of the Test preparing to go out for batting practice when Brian approached me and said I was not playing," he recounted. "I was very shocked, but I said nothing and went out to do some batting drills. I don't think my omission was justified. I was very angry because there was no specific reason given for the decision to drop me. It made me understand that the sport is also about politics and that people would do what's necessary to accomplish their own goals, whatever that might be. It was a very humiliating experience, but I think it has made me stronger as a person."

The incident was one Lara had explained as aimed at sending a message to Sarwan to help him improve his game. Indeed, reports were circulating behind the scenes that Sarwan's behaviour at the time was arrogant and that he heeded no one.

Was it appropriate to tell him on the morning of the Test that he was not playing? He was not the first to have been summarily dropped, but surely he was not clueless about the impact of his behaviour. Remember, Clive Lloyd had been asked (after Garry Sobers was unavailable) to come out to join the team to help with player relations.

Sarwan's ego was reasonably wounded by the cut. With many non-cricket months under his belt since, one expects that he would have revisited the circumstances mentally and tried to assess the situation from a distance. If he has done so, and still arrives at the conclusion that his being dropped was a politically motivated move to facilitate other people's goals, that says a great deal about Sarwan, about his relationship with Lara, and about the general atmosphere in which these players huddle (or don't).

Sarwan's criticism of King follows similar statements, notably by Marlon Samuels, about the relationship between coach and players. Perhaps Sarwan's claims are true about King's manner being rough, but then there is also the question of how rough is rough. I don't doubt that Sarwan believes what he says. I also think there is evidence that the players have not been inclined to regard coaching instructions, and those concerning nutrition and physical fitness, with respect. Some months ago a physio's report was circulated that cited some serious slackness within the outfit in each of these areas.

Sarwan himself is not known to be keen on training. In the same Toronto interview he spoke of his ambivalence as he went after the ball, attempting to field which he injured himself. "I wanted to dive earlier, but by the time I realised I was very close to the boundary, I lunged forward and fell awkwardly. Looking back, it was obviously not the right thing to do."

Is it that they are not trained on how to slide and dive, or is it that they ignore the training? Coaches galore have come and gone, most complaining that they cannot get the team to comply. Even Malcolm Marshall threw up his hands in despair. Is it a coach problem, a team problem, or the inability of both sides to understand each other's roles and responsibilities?

Sarwan may have inadvertently started another debate over what ails West Indies cricket. Whether his remarks were intemperate or not should not cloud the issue because, right or wrong, he has communicated quite clearly that these flawed relations are as much to blame for poor performance as anything else. The new board would do well to address that, rather than seek to employ the old method of disciplining the messenger.

Aakash Chopra

A major reason for Prior's falling apart could be a lack of belief in his skills and an inability to handle being exposed under pressure © Getty Images

The man who scored a ton on his debut at Lord's earlier this summer wouldn't have dreamed that people would be baying for his blood by the end of that same summer. Every move Matt Prior makes now is closely monitored or, in this case, every move he doesn't make. He has dropped a few crucial catches, conceded a few byes too many (some of them were ridiculously wide and out of reach) and, unfortunately, things haven't been too rosy even in front of the stumps. He has also been advised to keep his trap shut and concentrate on the job, something that probably wouldn't have been said if he hadn't messed up.

Apparently, while keeping, Prior does a little shimmy of sorts before making his final movement towards the ball, and experts think that that could be the reason for his poor footwork. I'm no expert on keeping and perhaps whatever everyone has said or written about Prior's skills or the lack of them is correct, but I know one thing for sure - what Prior must be feeling at the moment. Though I'm thrilled about India's rare and special feat, one can't, sitting here in England and reading and watching the English media, but feel a bit for Prior.

Ideally you should be oblivious to what is being written and said about you, especially when the chips are down. Ideally you should back the skills that have brought you so far, and if there's something to be improved, it should be done in the off-season or during a break. But does it work that way? Ask anyone who has been out there in the middle and knows what it's like to be in the doghouse and the answer will an overwhelming "No".

When you play international cricket, you're exposed to a world where every move is watched, every achievement appreciated, and every weakness exposed. A lot of experts and ex-cricketers are always around, waiting to spot flaws, writing and speaking about them, dissecting each one in gory detail, though they're only doing their jobs and, to give them credit, they're also generally willing to help you iron out those chinks.

Still, you end up with too much information and a limited span of time in which to act on those recommendations. You need to first assess if it's worth taking that information on board - you need to consider if it fits in with your game, since many of these people who are offering advice will not have watched your career develop and grow over the years, and one man's medicine could be another's poison. Second, even if you do decide to change things, there's hardly any time between Test matches, or even series, to do so. You desperately want to improve, impress and perform, and when things aren't going well it does seem that the entire world is against you. It's only human to try and change something in your technique if you think that could have a positive influence on your performance. But by doing so you tend to forget the task at hand.

In Prior's case, when something has gone wrong, when he has conceded a bye or dropped a catch or messed up a chance for someone else by trying too hard (like when he dived in front of Andrew Strauss during this Test, attempting to take what would have been a sitter for first slip), it's quite natural to think about that little shimmy.

After having myself gone through the process of trying to change things in next to no time and failing, I can say for sure that Prior isn't as bad as he is being made out to be. He must have, in the past, kept better than he is keeping now; a major reason for his falling apart could be a lack of belief in his skills and an inability to handle being exposed under pressure.

Excessive criticism can lead to self-doubt and I can assure you that when you are just starting out on an international career, it is natural to doubt yourself. At least the first time around. It requires tremendous character, lots of confidence, and a strong belief in your skills to turn a blind eye to everything that's being written and said about you. During this time you desperately need someone, someone you admire and respect, to put an arm around your shoulder and tell you to chill a bit, focus on doing the things that brought you this far, and give yourself time to get your act together. I hope someone's chatting to Prior.

Sambit Bal

England v India was Test cricket as it ought to be: tough, hard-fought, and full of spark © Getty Images

In the end the margin of 1-0, it could be argued, was a fair way for the series to end. England were the superior side at Lord's and India dominated the last two Tests. Speculation is futile, but if it hadn't been a draw at Lord's, the Oval Test would possibly have yielded a result, most likely in India's favour. But draws aren't necessarily dull, and this was an enthralling series. More importantly it was Test cricket as it ought to be: tough, challenging, skilful, full of crackle and contest, and bends and surprises.

In many ways this was a most un-Indian victory. It wasn't achieved through a burst of brilliance or glittering individual performances, and there was nothing freakish about it. It was built painstakingly and collectively by a team united in their desire to secure their place in history. The best innings of the series came from Englishmen - Kevin Pietersen's punchy, counterattacking hundred at Lord's and Michael Vaughan's poetic, utterly enchanting century at Trent Bridge - but eventually the sum of India's parts turned out to be greater.

Nothing was easily achieved. The English summer took a while to arrive and the ball swung, wobbled and fizzed about. Batsmen had to summon some old-fashioned skills to survive and score runs. The Oval presented the easiest batting surface in the series, but only relatively. India's mammoth total was built on hard work and technical proficiency. The top order made batting look easier than it was, because the pitch gave assistance to bowlers who put in the effort. Sachin Tendulkar's stodgy resistance against a determined bodyline strategy on the first afternoon didn't make him look pretty, but it denied England the breach they were desperately seeking, and that was vital in the context of the match and the series.

That the talk during the final days boiled down to whether India had done enough to push for a 2-0 margin captures how dramatically the script had changed since the last day at Lord's. But if you look carefully, the story of the series actually started taking shape from the last hour of the first day of that first Test. From 252 for 2 England went hurtling to 298 all out, and from that point onwards the Indian bowlers kept the English batsmen tentative.

The second half of the story was completed by India's batsmen. Sure it was rain that saved them at Lord's, but it was a battling performance - they batted 96 overs under testing circumstances - that kept them alive till the rain came. The rest of the series followed the same pattern.

India's batsmen put on two massive scores, but those were achieved with grit and bloody-mindedness rather than the dazzle and pomp normally associated with Indian batting. The last day may have felt mildly deflating for it was a Test they had dominated for the first three days, and a 2-0 win would have elevated them to the No. 2 position in the Test rankings, but their desperation to win the series surpassed their desperation to win the Test, and 1-0 is a scoreline they would have gladly taken at the start of the series.

The cricket wasn't scintillating in the way the modern fan has come to understand it. The runs didn't flow. But those who appreciate the essence of the game were rewarded with some absorbing individual contests. The luckless Ryan Sidebottom v Sachin Tendulkar, Zaheer Khan v the English openers, Anil Kumble v Kevin Pietersen.

That last was potentially the most interesting because Pietersen finds it easy to dominate spin, and has been England's most successful batsman against the greatest spinners of the age, Shane Warne and Muttiah Muralitharan. This particular contest could be said to have ended in Pietersen's favour, but only marginally. Kumble never got Pietersen out, and Pietersen got to his hundred at Lord's with a six and two fours in one Kumble over, but Kumble troubled him over long periods. And he beat Pietersen to the Man-of-the-Match award at The Oval - more for sentimental reasons than ones to do with performance alone, we suspect. More cruelly, Pietersen was denied the England Man-of-the-Series award. James Anderson bowled some wonderful spells and some great deliveries but he only took 14 wickets at over 35. Pietersen's hundred at Lord's was almost match-winning, and his century at The Oval was match-saving. Perhaps he rubs too many people the wrong way.

The most refreshing aspect of the series was the performance of he left-arm medium-pace bowlers. The "wickets" column - which showed a mere eight - does scant justice to Sidebottom's efforts through the series. Anderson took the big wickets, but Sidebottom was England's most consistent, and most threatening, bowler. He swung it both ways, hit the right length, and managed bounce. He would be an even better bowler if he can manage to bowl round the wicket.

That is something Zaheer Khan has learned to do consummately well in this the second half of his career, adding a new dimension to his bowling. Having served his sentence for a poor attitude and a poorer work ethic, he has returned a man transformed and willing to take on the responsibility of leading an inexperienced pace attack. RP Singh, the other left-armer, had a far less distinguished series, but at Trent Bridge he produced the ball of the series, which accounted for Kevin Pietersen, and he followed it up with another corker to clean up Matt Prior.

The victory cry doesn't sit well on Rahul Dravid, who is naturally given to a restrained smile, but it has becoming a familiar sight. This was India's second series win outside the subcontinent under his leadership, and given the turmoil in Indian cricket over the last 12 months, has come as a pleasant surprise. Dravid will return stronger and more in control of the team than he has been.

For Michael Vaughan, who has tasted defeat for the first time in a home series, sterner challenges lie ahead. A new cycle has begun with Vaughan as the common link. Only four members from the Ashes-winning 2005 team (leaving out Paul Collingwood whose participation in 2005 was nominal) played against India. Andrew Flintoff is scheduled to return, as is Matthew Hoggard. But Steve Harmison remains a reluctant tourist and a blow-hot-and-cold bowler, and it looks unlikely that England's bowling will regain the potency of that season in near future. And to compete with Sri Lanka, a team bubbling with confidence and who are formidable at home, their batsmen will have to adapt.

It was the batsmen who failed England more than their bowlers. All through the series the batsmen either failed to come to terms with India's swing bowlers or - as in both innings at The Oval - most got in before throwing it away. To their good fortune Matt Prior hung on to make the match safe. Otherwise Vaughan, Pietersen and Ian Bell - whose fatal paddle-sweep in the final hour was the most shockingly inappropriate stroke of them all - would have ended up looking silly. In contrast, most of India's top-order wickets had to be earned.

Admittedly India had luck with the weather, and the two tosses Dravid won were crucial. But the story of the series was this: the Indians made much better use of the English conditions than the English, and their victory was richly deserved.

Siddhartha Vaidyanathan

Rahul Dravid's knock was reminiscent of his one-day innings in the late nineties, when batting became an almighty struggle © Getty Images

Dravid must have churned, memories of lost opportunities whizzing past. Bridgetown 1997, when a batting collapse cost the series, Cape Town 2006, when another opportunity was squandered. Had he just blown his biggest game? His innings was nervy: 12 balls to get off the mark, 35 balls to get off 2. He was beaten by swing, struck on the body by pace. This was exactly like some of his one-day innings in the late nineties, when batting became an almighty struggle. The crowd booed, he floundered. No boundary till his 91st ball, five balls later he was gone.

He was dwarfed by Sourav Ganguly's brilliance, contributing just five in a 65-run partnership. Like a high-schooler who'd blanked out in an important exam, Dravid groped nervously. He concentrated all his energies on survival, half-hearted drives going straight to fielders. His initial doggedness was understandable but it was soon apparent that he'd cornered himself not to play a stroke. At some level the decision appeared to have got to him.

The decision will be dissected threadbare if England bat out the final day. At that point, though, it wasn't without its merits: India's bowlers would get a rest (it was learnt later in the day that Zaheer Khan was suffering from a thigh strain). Additionally Anil Kumble would get final use of the pitch, on a ground where England had never batted more than 105.1 overs in the final innings.

Fifty years from now Rahul Dravid will not be remembered as a captain who didn't enforce the follow-on in a game India could afford to draw

Sambit Bal

Wide of the mark: Ian Howell had a dreadful time at Trent Bridge, and has made plenty of mistakes at The Oval as well © Getty Images

It is a pity that matters outside bat and ball should continue to spoil what has so far been wonderful advertisement for Test cricket. The first Test was decided by the weather, and the second, which was won by a skilful and determined performance by the Indians, was overshadowed by jelly beans, player behaviour and inconsistent umpiring. And it will be a tragedy if umpiring becomes a decisive factor in this Test.

Umpires deserve plenty of sympathy. Theirs is a thankless vocation and they are noticed only for their mistakes. Their actions are judged and damned by experts, journalists, and millions of viewers who now have the benefit of hugely sophisticated cameras and technologies such as Snickometer and Hotspot. But still, it's not that difficult to tell when an umpire is not up to it.

Simon Taufel, who invited the wrath of Indian supporters for denying Sachin Tendulkar and Sourav Ganguly well-earned hundreds at Trent Bridge, is a good umpire who had an ordinary match. But it is difficult to say the same about his colleague in that Test. Ian Howell had a dreadful match at Trent Bridge, and it has only got worse at The Oval. It can be considered poor taste to pun on someone's name, but given the number of howlers he has made in the last two Tests, Howell has brought it upon himself.

The ICC has a system in place to assess every decision an umpire make during a match, and it is often trotted out that umpires get over 90% of the decisions right. It will surely be interesting to read Howell's report card for this series. To anybody who has followed his finger, he has got more decisions wrong than right.

Few things can be worse for cricketers, batsmen and bowlers alike, than to play in the knowledge that their fate hangs in the hand of an adjudicator who is consistently inconsistent. There are not-outers, none more famous than the legendary Dickie Bird, there are those who are trigger happy - Dave Orchard springs to mind - there are those who are conservative about front-foot lbws and there are ones who are spinner-friendly. In many instances, umpires go by the pitch, and are likely to adjudge lbws on the basis of bounce. At Perth, for instance, batsmen can leave the ball on its length, safe in the knowledge that it will sail over the stumps.

But how safe can a batsman feel when faced with Howell? Apart from his obvious tendency to give wrong decisions, it has been impossible to detect a pattern with Howell. May be it lies in his approach to tailenders. This morning he was happy to give Monty Panesar on the forward stretch against Anil Kumble. Panesar had no reason to quibble; he was dead in front. But on what account did he spare Paul Collingwood on the third day? Collingwood's front foot was perhaps a few inches ahead, but as Ian Chappell remarked on television, if that wasn't out, they might as well remove lbw as a mode of dismissal. And when he did give Collingwood out, the ball looked, irrespective of what you saw on Hawk-Eye, to be sliding past the leg stump.

At Trent Bridge, he denied Panesar two lbws in his first two overs in India's first innings. They were vital decisions, for they allowed Dinesh Karthik and Wasim Jaffer to swell the first-wicket partnership to 147, but he was happy to send back RP Singh and Sreesanth in quick succession: Singh looked out, but Sreesanth deserved the benefit of doubt.

It's futile labouring the point, but the lbw that he handed out to Ganguly has perhaps been the shocker of the series. Admittedly, the ball has been swinging exaggeratedly, sometimes changing path after passing the batsman. But this was a deviation palpably off the bat. If he didn't hear the nick, he should have seen it. Was he late in looking up? If he was, it was a schoolboy error from an international umpire.

Which raises the next question. Should Howell have been standing in the series in the first place? Of course, the ICC cannot be blamed for not anticipating the errors, but Howell is not part of the elite panel, and since no other international cricket is on at the moment, those appointing umpires had a full list to choose from. Were none of them available?

It is sad that umpires rarely get the credit for a job well done. In that, they are like wicketkeepers. Matt Prior has become the object of ridicule after two bad matches; it's only fair that the heat is now turned on Howell.

Sport and politics will never be separated © Getty Images

It was almost 20 years ago that I first met Sam Ramsamy. I went to interview him in a flat near Marble Arch in London and what followed was an hour-long lecture from the grand fighter of the anti-apartheid movement. The message was consistent, and powerful. "No normal sport in an abnormal society," he would say at regular intervals.

He had another line. "Sport and politics will never be separated." The Ramsamy dream turned from matters black and white into a kaleidoscope of colour when South Africa competed under a unified flag at the Olympics in 1992 following a 32-year absence. He called me over on that Boeing to Barcelona 15 years ago. "This is what I was talking about. Now it's normal sport in a normal society."

Today 14 elite South African cricketers are in Harare for a two-match tour of Zimbabwe. Yet the silence is deafening from the game's administrators, among them newly elected Cricket South Africa president Norman Arendse, who himself was familiar with the same anti-apartheid rallying cry of yesteryear. No normal sport in an abnormal society. Can Zimbabwe society be classed as normal?

Sending a South African cricket team, among them top international players Boeta Dippenaar, Ashwell Prince, Andre Nel and Charl Langeveldt, is also sending a message to the world that we will visit a place Australia's government recently barred their cricketers from touring on grounds of human-rights violations.

The confusing part is that Arendse, who was elected to the CSA hot seat at the weekend, and then delivered an emotional speech - including a tribute to his father - regarding a disadvantaged background, has not come out against the tour. Arendse knows about the struggle for normality in South Africa, but he now heads an association that is endorsing a cricket tour of Robert Mugabe's country.

At the 2003 World Cup, Henry Olonga and Andy Flower famously wore black armbands to protest the "death of democracy" in their country. They were Zimbabweans, one black, one white. Now they dare not set foot in their homeland for fear of being taken to a dark dungeon by Mugabe's violent henchmen.

Yet from yesterday, the South Africa 'A' team has been at the Harare Sports Club, where there will be plenty to eat and drink. A crisp cover-drive's distance from there the shelves in shops are empty and people are starving. Police will assault many, others will be dying - physically and metaphorically.

Australia's government took a stand in May, but no one really expected South Africa's Thabo Mbeki to step in and withdraw our cricketers from this tour. Quiet diplomacy and all that. So shouldn't the governing body, CSA, act independently? And never mind the fear of "disciplining from the ICC", of which, incidentally, Ray Mali, a South African, is caretaker president?

CSA might argue it doesn't interfere in wider politics. Which is ironic considering the level to which sport and politics are entwined in South Africa. Hardly a day goes by without calls from as high as government level threatening to enforce player quotas in Springbok rugby.

In 2003 Errol Stewart was made captain of a South Africa A side to tour Zimbabwe. He withdrew on the grounds that he felt it morally wrong to tour a country so ravaged and whose people were being starved and murdered by the Mugabe government. The chief executive of what was then the United Cricket Board of South Africa, Gerald Majola (he remains in the same capacity in CSA), issued a statement "instructing selectors not to consider the KwaZulu-Natal wicketkeeper-batsman for any future representative teams".

The problem with sport and politics is that the goalposts keep moving and the rules change depending on who is playing the game. I'm reminded of that first discussion with Ramsamy and wonder if he too agrees we should be sending a sports team to play there.

Gary Lemke is sports editor of the Cape Argus newspaper in Cape Town

Mohammad Yousuf's exclusion is bathed in innuendo, with reporters winking, nudging and whispering, as no doubt will many followers © AFP

Osman Samiuddin

Nothing illustrates more lucidly the mysterious, whimsical workings of Pakistan selection committees than the decision not to select Mohammad Yousuf in the 15-man squad for the Twenty20 World Championship in South Africa.

They tried, bless 'em, to justify the decision to drop him but they came up empty. Yousuf was, in the words today of Salahuddin Ahmed, the chief selector, "a world-class player, no two ways about it." He is also currently Pakistan's best batsman and, as Ricky Ponting proves every day, a good batsman is a good batsman is a good batsman, be it over five days, 50 overs or 20. Yet, Yousuf did not make it into a 15-man squad with only two specialist middle-order batsmen.

First the selectors claimed they wanted to give him a rest, disregarding that he, unlike a number of senior players globally, wanted no such thing. They then admitted they wanted - no, needed - "one batsman who can stay at the wicket, because, whether it is a Test, an ODI or a 20-over game, you have to have one who can stick around and build."

From this they took a not inconsiderable leap and concluded - on what basis is still not clear - that Misbah-ul-Haq (ostensibly the replacement) might do the job better than Yousuf has been doing over the last year. Perhaps Misbah's impressive domestic Twenty20 average (just under 50) got him the nod over a man with over 14,000 international runs, 35 international hundreds and just off a patch so purple, popstar Prince would have been jealous.

No? Okay, then try this one: "We are trying out new and fresh names." At 33, Misbah is a few months older than Yousuf, so even if you give him more benefit than doubt (as noted commentator Omar Kureishi used to say of dodgy decisions), his best years are likely already lost to Pakistan. He last played an international for Pakistan nearly three years ago; after averaging 13 from five Tests and 33 from 13 ODIs, there was a reason he was not selected again. In short, he is as fresh as last month's pizza.

Were the selectors really serious about younger legs, a new spirit and all that, then any of Khurram Manzoor, Khalid Latif or Shahid Yousuf - all of whom impressed in spurts during the practice matches - made more sensible replacements. Even if they had not impressed, at least the selectors could have shielded themselves behind the mantra of giving youth its day.

Assurances obviously were given for his future. "This is not the end of his career, let me assure everyone," said Salahuddin. "We haven't treated him with any disrespect by dropping him and he is a great asset to the Pakistan team. It shouldn't be made into an issue of pride, because we haven't dropped him as such,"

True enough, his future in not in any serious doubt. But given that Yousuf was naturally unhappy at his omission - his weak proclamations otherwise notwithstanding - can Pakistan really afford to treat him this shabbily, especially given that Inzamam might no longer be on the scene either soon enough? Is Pakistan really blessed with that much batting talent?

'At his best, Twenty20 cricket is to Abdur Razzaq what water is to fish' © Getty Images

No other decision ruffled as many feathers as this one. Not even, sadly it must be said, the dropping of Abdul Razzaq. At his best, Twenty20 cricket is to Razzaq what water is to fish. A few overs of brisk, constricting and attacking medium-pace and a solid lower-order guarantee of boundaries; as Kamran Abbasi notes in this post Razzaq's decline has meant what was once unthinkable is now reality.

Ultimately, though, in the absence of any solid logic, it is Yousuf's exclusion that bathes in innuendo, reporters winking, nudging and whispering, as no doubt will many followers. Here was further proof, some muttered, that the board was bent on cleansing the team of the religiosity it had been engulfed in.

No, others countered, it was aimed solely at diluting the hold of Inzamam-ul-Haq on this team, thus giving Shoaib Malik a greater chance to mould his own side. Wait a minute, some said, Misbah's was a pressure inclusion, instigated by the board and one not all selectors agreed to. Pakistanis love a conspiracy theory, it was noted once in The Economist. Probably, it concluded, because they have an uncanny way of coming true in Pakistan.

Ian Chappell

Gift of the gab: Prior can talk the talk, but he hasn't quite walked the walk © Getty Images

I'm no Sherlock Holmes but I think I've cracked the great jelly bean mystery. However, in keeping with the conventions of thrillers, you'll have to read to the end to find the guilty party.

Judging by the evidence so far, England now believe international wicketkeepers are there to be heard and not seen. This adds another misleading myth to the many that abound about wicketkeepers, including the most erroneous one of all about batting being the first consideration when choosing a keeper.

Instead of admonishing Matthew Prior for his poor footwork, England coach Peter Moores defended his gabby gloveman by asking that the stump microphone volume be lowered so that less of his inane chatter is heard on television. As a former wicketkeeper Moores should be telling Prior to lower his personal chat volume and raise his standards.

It's true that a wicketkeeper needs to ensure the fielding is lively, but he should do so by setting a good example and contributing to the team thought process, rather than talking a lot of drivel. The fact that a constant stream of inanities is now seen as "part of the game" is an indictment of the numerous sheriffs who supposedly control the game, as well as those who indulge in this practice.

The more talk that is allowed on the field the more likely it is that something personal will be said. If a player is verbally accosted at the wrong moment there is the likelihood of fisticuffs on the field and in the current emotionally charged atmosphere, with a decider looming at The Oval it would be better if Moores told Prior; "You are here to be seen and not heard."

It is an indictment of Prior's footwork that he has already allowed more than three times as many byes as his predecessor Chris Read in two fewer innings. If you think this comparison is unfair, then Mahendra Singh Dhoni, who isn't exactly twinkle toes behind the stumps, has only allowed 27 more byes than Prior in three times as many innings. At least Dhoni is smart enough to keep relatively quiet behind the stumps.

The India versus England series has been exciting, with loads of good bowling, a wonderful mixture of aggressive and determined batting, and no shortage of drama. It has been extremely watchable because the two curators so far have provided pitches that have given every player a chance to display his skill. Too often a pitch favours either batsman or bowler but this time the balance has been perfect, which has complemented the skills of two pretty evenly matched sides.

What would happen if the non-striking batsman started chatting to the bowler as he was about to commence his run-up? There would be a hell of a fuss and it would quickly put an end to on-field chatter being a one-way street

It is not "part of the game". Batsmen are entitled to a bit of peace and quiet when they are out in the middle. What would happen if the non-striking batsman started chatting to the bowler as he was about to commence his run-up? There would be a hell of a fuss, and on-field chatter would quickly cease to be a one-way street. I don't understand why batsmen haven't resorted to this ploy already.

England is hardly the only team that indulges in this irritating tactic but by suggesting the microphone volume be lowered, Moores is adding his name to the list of people who condone on-field chatter. The fact that Prior has succeeded an equally gabby gloveman, Paul Nixon, means mindless chatter is now entrenched as an English tactic.

So far this enthralling series hasn't been spoiled by any on-field shenanigans. Hopefully that will remain the case and the great jelly bean saga will prove to have been nothing more sinister than the England players throwing sweets at their wicketkeeper in an effort to shut him up.

Nobody, not even the bowler himself, knows which Sreesanth is going to take the field on any given day of a match © Getty Images

Siddhartha Vaidyanathan

A small Indian contingent waited outside the dressing room for several hours after India had sealed the second Test at Trent Bridge. As the cricketers celebrated with beer and bhangra indoors, the fans frolicked with drums, flags and posters outside. Glimpses of their heroes were met with loud cheers; anyone within earshot was mobbed.

Amid the frenzy, Sreesanth emerged. Almost no one took the initial step of greeting him; one young man even sniggered, "Don't approach that fellow, he might hit you." It took a pleasant smile from Sreesanth to break the ice, following which he obliged with autographs and photos. He was so charming that one young girl asked, "Sreesanth, are you nice only when you wear your glasses?"

And therein lies the single biggest paradox in the Indian team at the moment - Sreesanth's normalcy off the field compared to his maniacal instincts on it. Nobody, not even the bowler himself, knows which Sreesanth is going to take the field on any given day. Very rarely has India seen match-winning potential and extreme buffoonery combine so explosively. When it comes off, like at the Wanderers last year, it makes for gripping theatre; other times, like at Trent Bridge, it's slapstick.

Sreesanth baffles. Before the start of the fourth day of this second Test, he spent 15 minutes asking the groundsman to clear up the footholds at the Pavilion end. When play began, he was running in from the Radcliffe Road end. A high-velocity beamer, a huge front-foot no-ball and a shoulder-barge capped a wretchedly erratic spell. But he still conjured up gems amid the rubbish. When least expected, a perfectly pitched away-swinger would beat the bat; another would hustle the batsman. Like some random number generator, one ball in ten would surprise.

What Sreesanth could have done with was some introspection. Here was an ideal chance to play second fiddle, an opportunity to sustain the pressure at one end while Zaheer Khan got aggressive at the other. Had Sreesanth made the batsmen play more often, it was he who had the better chance of taking wickets, what with them trying to see out Zaheer at the other end. Instead he turned showman, waiting for the cameras to focus on him, and responding to a few sledges from the crowd. "I think he has a great example in Zaheer," said Rahul Dravid at the end of the match. "Zaheer has been as aggressive as anyone, without going over the top - just performing and getting wickets."

Nobody is asking Sreesanth to mellow down - in fact he needs all the aggression he can summon - but more channelising, and less Bollywood, will be the way to go

Coming from a state that's a cricketing backwater, Sreesanth was bound to be overawed by all the attention. Three years back he was a first-change bowler for Kerala in the second division of the Ranji Trophy; now he's expected to win Test matches. It's a gigantic leap and one that few 24-year-olds can achieve seamlessly. There's a lesson for Sreesanth to learn from Tinu Yohannan, his predecessor from Kerala who managed just three Tests, unable to cope with the expectations. India cannot afford to lose another talented youngster as they did the likes of Laxman Sivaramakrishnan, Sadanand Viswanath, Maninder Singh and Vinod Kambli.

So how does the team get the best out of him? A rap on the knuckles is an easy short-term solution but here is a young lad who needs careful handling. Greg Chappell, it is learned, knew how to deal with him - coaxing and admonishing in equal measure.

Team-mates have in the past been exasperated with Sreesanth's "naatak" (theatrics) but acknowledge that he is a vital member of the side. The good thing is, he has been talking to India's bowling coach Venkatesh Prasad, who rarely bowled a ball in anger during his playing days - except once, when taunted by Aamer Sohail in a high-pressure World Cup quarter-final. "It's a concern," said Prasad when asked about Sreesanth's on-field antics, "but we're trying to tell him not to cross the line. We need to respect the game and the rules. He needs to focus on his cricket rather than the other stuff."

Dinesh Karthik, one of Sreesanth's closest friends in the team, will no doubt understand his situation, having struggled to come to terms with international cricket when he was first picked, before returning far more assured. A chat with Mahendra Singh Dhoni, another superstar from a traditionally non-cricketing state, could help. Seeking out an elder statesman like Anil Kumble, a highly aggressive yet unassuming bowler, wouldn't be out of place either. Nobody is asking Sreesanth to mellow down - in fact he needs all the aggression he can summon - but more channelising, and less Bollywood, will be the way to go.