Australian cricket is underpinned by two strong brands that sell beer and whisky © Getty Images

Anyone with an interest in Australian sport, not just cricket, will be digesting the detail of the government-commissioned Crawford Report which was handed down yesterday. Basically, in a very simplistic summary, the report attempts to prioritise where the limited pool of government funding should go. Some Olympic sports - the niche ones that don’t attract many participants or win medals - will probably see a cut in funding while other popular sports (like cricket), which enjoys huge participation, should continue to receive generous funding.

As a cricket fan, with young children on the verge of entering the system, the Crawford Report’s probable bias towards cricket is likely to benefit my own selfish ends. My oldest child, aged six, has just begun his cricket career for the Ferny Fireballs under-eight team and will no doubt benefit from continued grassroots investment. His passion for the game is unbelievable – broken light bulbs, damaged walls and a room full of cricket posters attest to the reach of the clever marketers who are charged with the task of seeding the next generation of young Australian cricket fans. “Good on ‘em” I say. I can think of nothing better than a cricket-crazy household, just to ensure that my wife can't change the TV channel without a howl of protest!

What will be interesting to see is whether the funding is truly directed to the grassroots of the sport or whether it ends up being siphoned towards the elite end of the pyramid. A sport like cricket already has far too much money at the top of the tree and I’m hoping that the Australian government will go to great lengths to ensure that the lion’s share of the funding is directed at young kids. Sponsors and TV rights will keep the big boys in champagne and caviar for some time to come, but the real battlefront in a country like Australia, where cricket competes ferociously with so many other sports, is to win the loyalty of the juniors.

It’s never going to be an issue in the subcontinent; cricket is likely to be No. 1 for many years to come and it’s unlikely to be threatened by any other sport. If Australia is to remain competitive in this market, it is essential that the juniors, young boys and girls exactly like my children, are afforded the facilities, infrastructure and coaching that attempts to bridge the vast gulf in the sheer passion for the game in South Asia. We’ll never match the unbridled love of the game that I’ve seen en masse on the maidans in Mumbai or the laneways of Colombo, but if there’s no money invested in grassroots cricket, that gap will continue to widen.

Australian cricket is generally run efficiently with innovative marketing campaigns and a good structure to encourage participation in those early years. Initiatives like the All Stars versus the Australian XI game this Sunday are clearly aimed at getting young people interested in following the national team. Personally, I don’t much care for the manufactured glitz, music and hype that these sort of joke games seem to specialise in but that is not the point. The marketing men are not trying to woo people like me. They are targeting young families, women and potential fans who need convincing that the ‘product’ is exciting enough to compete for their entertainment dollar. That’s what the sponsors want – bang for their buck to allow them to keep investing in the sport. Fair enough, too.

Nonetheless, I thought it was in poor taste to receive marketing communication, aimed at my six-year old, promoting the All Stars Game to this audience with a very overt advertising message from the main sponsor, a prominent Scotch whisky brand. My son is just about at the age when anything connected to cricket is processed through adoring eyes. His questions last night left me in no doubt that he was trying to make sense of this brand placement. Fortunately, he is young enough to believe white lies but it won’t be long before he understands that Australian cricket is underpinned by two strong brands that sell beer and whisky. That is the reality of the modern game - rich players and comfortable administrators have every reason to be happy with this relationship but it does them no credit to (perhaps unthinkingly and without malice) be so clumsy with their promotional campaigns.

I just hope that the Crawford Report takes these factors into account when deciding how that money is to be spent in cricket. If it's spent at the local club level, helping tireless volunteers like the Club President to run a junior club on the smell of an oily rag, it will be money well spent. I’m ever-so-slightly uneasy though about government funds being spent at the top tier of a sport that so overtly sleeps with brewers and distillers while the very same government is pouring billions of dollars into trying to patch up the damage to a society that is being torn apart by drugs and alcohol. When those marketing messages invade my child’s domain, disguised as a promotion for something he loves so dearly (cricket), it makes me wonder if we’ve got the balance quite right. He'll grow up soon enough. Too soon. Can we just hold on to his innocence for a few more years please?

Despite a surfeit of cricket, I sense a slight ‘flatness’ on the world circuit right now. In fact, that's probably the exact reason why there seems to be a lack of spark. On many levels, cricket seems to be full of contradictions and confusion right now.

The once-mighty West Indies arrived in my home city, Brisbane, today. Their arrival barely rated a mention, such has been their fall from grace in recent times, not helped by the uncertainty about whether the star players would tour or not. Any team that boasts the batting explosiveness of Gayle, Chanderpaul, Sarwan and Bravo is worth paying the entrance fee to watch but if early ticket sales are any indication, the Gabba staff can expect a quiet shift at the turnstiles. Ironically, the main attraction may end up being the least flamboyant batsman in the squad – hometown boy Brendan Nash who is the least unlikely Calypso King in every respect.

Even the Australian team, shorn of it’s marquee stars of yesterday, crippled by minor injuries and in transition, is struggling to capture local imagination. The great irony is that Ashes tickets for this identical fixture in 12 months time are already in hot demand. No wonder Sir Viv is worried about the great legacy he left behind him in the halcyon days of the West Indian dynasty.

When it comes to injuries and player fatigue, the fans too seem fatigued. It seems that no amount of support staff and hi-tech equipment (physiotherapists, trainers, doctors, exercise scientists, ice baths, compression clothing etc) can arrest the attrition rate of minor niggles and injuries. Some of these complaints may look trivial and soft to old-timers who claimed to have played through more serious pain for the pride of wearing national colours but it is the modern way. They clearly play a whole lot more cricket these days, that overload may be too much for tired bodies and there’s no doubt that the contemporary cricketer will not often play through pain. Perhaps he is not even allowed to. Sports medicine hasn't yet paid huge dividends for the spectators who want to see their heroes on the park and not on the bench or on the beach.

'Player fatigue' is the latest buzz word and there is little doubt that it is a factor. Yet, the fittest and richest cricketers of all time, prepared to hire themselves out as mercenaries for any paymaster, seem to be forever unable (or rested) from what used to be the pinnacle of the game – international cricket. The West Indies are clearly the best example of that. At a time when the ICC is flogging the international game to death and player payments are soaring, it’s hard to reconcile the contradictory shouts of “too much money, too little money, too much cricket, more cricket please”. No country is exempt from that confusion.

Someone like Michael Clarke is an example of one of the few whose position is consistent on this issue – his fragile back and a visionary manager have mapped out a long-term position that places country and body before yet another hired gun contract. Then you’ve got guys like Gayle, Bravo, Flintoff and Pietersen, allegedly patriotic but forever unavailable for national duty due to injuries or franchise commitments.

Pakistan too cannot be left out of any conversation when it comes to confusion or irony. The smiling Younis Khan is either the captain or unavailable. Mohammad Yousuf is either banned or likely to be skipper. Their ‘home’ games are anything but, hardly the fault of the cricketers or administrators though. How long can their long-suffering and passionate fans keep the faith?

India, usually unbeatable at home, beaten comfortably by a young Aussie team without any of the jewels that adorn the Indian crown. I’m still struggling to understand how a team comprising Sehwag, Tendulkar, Dhoni, Gambhir and Yuvraj can possibly be beaten in home conditions but a quick look at the bowling attack hints at the real reasons why. The local IPL franchises, playing in familiar conditions and with the pick of the international players, fail to qualify a team in the semi-finals.

In the ultimate stroke of irony, at a time when some players who want to play representative cricket are being rested, Andrew Symonds, he who cannot bring himself to cope with the spotlight of fame, preferring beer over Gatorade, fishing nets over cricket nets, happy to walk away from an international career when others are killing for the opportunity, is invited back to play for his beloved Queensland Bulls. The scene of his reincarnation? A Town Like Alice!

To cap it off, England have just shown us they can play ‘power’ cricket after all in their Twenty20 international in Johannesburg. It’s all starting to go Irish……

	Sri Lanka, and not Australia, were the one-day world champions in 1996 © Getty Images

It was almost not thus; I was not aware that in the late 1990s, world cricket was apparently on the brink of a major split that would probably have destroyed the game. I always knew there was some talk of it but it never really seemed to be much more than a bit of posturing and chest-puffing. I recently stumbled upon a book called Run Out, written by the former CEO of the Australian Cricket Board, Graham Halbish. It’s hardly a new offering and it’s certainly not worth recommending but nonetheless, it still provided a fascinating insight into the politics of cricket in the 1990s.

He described an ambitious idea called Project Snow which was apparently Australian cricket’s defiant response to the power bloc of India, Pakistan, Sri Lanka, Bangladesh and South Africa. Without going into the detailed politics of it, Australia, New Zealand, England and West Indies would form a league which played each other on a regular basis (presumably the other countries would do something similar with their members) and world cricket would be split in two. Amazingly, he went so far as to make the statement that the intent of Project Snow was to show South Africa that it had made the wrong choice in siding with the Asian bloc, to call India’s bluff and to show the subcontinent that “we could do without them, but that they could not do without us”.

Hindsight is a wonderful thing of course and it is unfair to judge someone on that basis. Perhaps in 1996, Halbish and the ACB truly believed that, surprising as it may seem in today’s context. My memory of that period still contrasts with Halbish’s view though – in 1996, it was patently obvious that the nexus of power and influence had shifted inexorably to the subcontinent and it seemed foolish to think of a truly viable global game without their involvement. The recent decline of West Indies and the sad fact (unfairly perhaps) that New Zealand does not have huge marketability, makes Project Snow seem even more ridiculous. Even the lure of the Ashes would soon lose its box office appeal if the two countries were forced to play each other every second year in Tests and ODIs. Today’s professional cricketer, some of them earning more rupees than dollars, must be glad indeed that Project Snow was nothing more than a concept on a piece of paper. It just doesn’t make sense on any level to contemplate world cricket without the major countries, East and West alike.

It was difficult to take the book seriously after that point. Once credibility is lost, she is a difficult mistress to find again. I should have seen the writing on the wall in the very first paragraph of the book when Halbish claimed that Australia were world champions in Test and ODI cricket in 1997 (when he was CEO). He may have forgotten the fact that Sri Lanka were the reigning World Cup champions at that point. I then started keeping a beady eye out for any other discrepancies and I was not disappointed – some of them were minor mistakes but it nonetheless became very difficult to then work out which bits were true and which bits were not.

In one chapter, curiously called “The Best of Times”, he tells of a story when a former ACB Chairman ejected two ECB officials off his houseboat (during the Youth World Cup in 1988) with some choice expletives and refuses to give them a drink or food. The best of times? Really? How charming!

Halbish recounts every detail of a very famous falling-out with the board which led to his sacking and the subsequent bad blood that inevitably followed. It was actually quite fascinating to read the behind-the-scenes politics that seem to dog most cricket boards around the world. I am neither interested in the politics nor knowledgeable enough about what really went on to offer any meaningful commentary on Halbish’s version of events. The only thing that really stood out was the total unpleasantness of most of the characters involved in that whole saga, something that is probably replicated in other cricket boards around the world I’m sure. For supposedly distinguished and senior administrators, the only common denominator seemed to be a total absence of decency or honour amongst the lot. Halbish obviously tells the story from his perspective, but even allowing for that bias, it just made me wonder how the game of cricket survives such people.

It is indeed a testament to the quality of the 'product' that it can transcend those who administer it. Cricket will never escape the grubby politics that seems to follow it in just about every country (although NZ seems to be relatively benign) but the game itself is such a powerful force that it will probably still survive and thrive, despite such folk. Halbish’s book merely highlights the ugly underbelly that governs this great game that we all love. It was an interesting read, a revealing read, an inconsistent read but sadly, it did nothing to paint cricket’s governors of the 1980s and 1990s in a positive light. I don’t think much has changed since!

	The toss has proved too crucial in some one-dayers © Getty Images

The Champions Trophy, played on early season pitches on the South African Highveld, has thrown up enough variety worthy of a global competition. It’s had enough intrigue and diversity to suit just about every style of cricketer. No team can claim they were significantly disadvantaged by the conditions, although the toss was crucial in some of the earlier matches. That’s cricket though – how can you ever compensate for the vagaries of the toss?

In long series between two countries (or even tri-series), it is probably fair enough to leave things as they are. Going by the law of averages, the coin toss tends to even out in the long run and the better team usually wins the series. Most sensible people will agree that the longer the competition, the better the chances are that the most deserving team will triumph.

Shorter tournaments like World Cups and Champions Trophies necessarily allow for much less margin in terms of this balancing-out effect. Especially in cut-throat situations where one loss can finish your tournament, the toss is often crucial. Too crucial. In some of the early games at Centurion and Johannesburg, where extravagant spin and seam were in equal abundance, the toss effectively determined the outcome.

Perhaps it’s worth giving serious thought to the 4 x 25 over format that Sachin Tendulkar (and others) are expounding, to renew and regenerate the 50-over game. In fact, I’d go one step further by suggesting 2 x 20 overs to begin with, followed by 2 x 30 overs. This allows the team winning the toss to still reap some advantage by minimising the time they have to bat in the first stanza (if the ball is nipping around a bit) or maximising the time they have to bowl in the second session (if the pitch is starting to turn or keeping a bit low).

It also has the added bonus of ensuring that if there is rain later in the match (like the Australia vs India match last week), there can still be a Duckworth-Lewis result so long as there was sufficient time for a minimum of 40 overs. The possibility of a weather interruption will add a layer of intrigue to the tactics in that first session too – should teams use their Powerplays and best bowlers early doors or keep it in reserve and risk never using them? Fascinating stuff….

The main reason for suggesting this split format is to negate some of the effects of winning the toss, especially when conditions are hostile early on (like some of the early starts in Johannesburg) and or when they deteriorate late in the game (usually when the ball starts to turn or the pitch gets slow). Of course there will still be some advantage in winning the toss but it won’t be a four-hour advantage. In some conditions, that’s almost fatal to the team losing the toss.

The tactics will be extremely interesting to watch. Human nature being what it is, any batsman who is at the crease towards the end of the first lot of 20 overs will naturally be a bit more conservative so he can resume his innings when the next installment begins. Is this a good time for the fielding team to take their Powerplay then, from overs 16-20? Is it a good time to get a few cheap overs out of the 5th and 6th bowlers? For the batting team, in purely pragmatic terms, the 20th over should be treated like any other – each run is still worth the same amount. But, it would take a brave batsman prepared to take risks in that 20th over and miss out on the chance to start afresh a few hours later?

It would bring the fitness of allrounders into the game much more too. Someone like Jacques Kallis is likely to be not out at the end of the first innings, then bowl some overs and chase balls in the outfield, only to resume his innings once again. His rhythm would have been disrupted (batting or bowling) so it would take good skills to pick up where he left off, showing off a new dimension to his all-round game.

Another advantage would be that it possibly allows the team that is struggling to break the rhythm of the game and thereby try to claw their way back. Any rule change that allows a chance for a 'comeback' must surely be a good thing. A bowling team that is bleeding runs in the 20th over has time to break the momentum, re-think their field placings or strategies and start again. It might be just what the 50-over game needs to renew interest in those middle overs when it all becomes all too predictable.

A final twist to add spice to this new format - instead of the compulsory 10-over Powerplay at the start of the game, why not have two compulsory five-over stints at the start of each innings? The batting and fielding Powerplays can still be taken at the discretion of the captain but if there’s a compulsory Powerplay from overs one to five and then again from 21-25, it will broaden the skill base of all players. Someone like a Mohammad Yousuf or Rahul Dravid, supremely skilled at working the ball into gaps during the middle overs will be forced to bring another dimension to their game if they resume on say 30 not out in the 21st over and have to start again in a Powerplay. We’ll soon see the end of one-dimensional players or we’ll see some unusual changes in the batting order just prior to the first innings break. Either way, the unpredictability and innovation is just what ODI cricket needs.

What do you think? Do we have the basis of an idea worth exploring? My mind is already racing with the various sub-plots that will inevitably play out if this format is adopted, even if it’s only in knockout type tournaments where it would be a shame to see the toss dictate the winner of the game. Cricket needs to balance the ledger in favour of the better team rather than the lucky one!

When it comes to the vexed issue of the batting Powerplay, I’m convinced that the strategists will soon have enough historical data to crunch some meaningful numbers. As more ODI games are played under the new rules, there will be more data available and clear patterns will start to emerge.

Thus far, the batting Powerplay has been anything but! It has often been the Achilles heel for the batting team - poorly executed, poorly timed and the catalyst for a collapse. One of the problems with it has been this dual sense of fear (what if we lose wickets?) combined with the burden of self-expectation (the Powerplay is a powerful weapon that we MUST save for that match-winning moment). Instead of viewing it as another tactic in the batting arsenal, it’s almost viewed as Devil and Saviour in the one incarnation, thereby giving it that real Jekyll & Hyde quality that confuses clear thinking.

The final ODI at Durham between Australia and England was the last straw in a series that defined itself for a complete waste of this weapon. The sight of Australia taking the Powerplay with Ben Hilfenhaus at the crease, nine wickets down and in the 44th over, was the final nail in the coffin of abysmal tactics by both teams throughout the series. England were particularly dim-witted in their use of the Powerplay throughout the series, arguably amongst the worst examples of getting it wrong that you can possibly imagine.

The Champions Trophy in South Africa will show a different side to this tactic though. I’m convinced that it will indeed be an advantage for the batting team in this tournament. Why do I say that?

To begin with, I think teams will now crunch the data and start to realise that it’s probably wasted if you leave it too late in the innings. The last 10 overs tends to bring with it a flood of runs anyway so why waste the Powerplay then? Connected with this theory, if you can force the fielding side to use their ‘death bowlers’ in the middle of the innings to protect the Powerplay, that leaves even more scope to cash in at the end.

On South African pitches with bounce and carry, to say nothing of the effects of altitude, scoring rates will tend to be higher than during September in England or on the slow, dusty pitches in the Middle East for example (when Australia played Pakistan). These conditions will lend themselves to batsmen being able to clear the boundaries because the extra bounce opens up more of the field. On slow pitches, it is difficult to get under the ball and open up the full 360 degree radius of the outfield. We’ll see a lot more shots square of the wicket in the Champions Trophy when it comes times to push the accelerator. Players like Dilshan, Duminy, De Villiers and Dhoni (and many more that I simply can’t mention) who don’t need to rely on going straight down the ground will revel in these conditions during Powerplay overs.

The pitches at Centurion and Johannesburg will be more suited to the quicker bowlers, thereby removing the choking threat of spin bowling in the middle of the innings. Small boundaries, hard pitches and balls flying further at altitude will reduce the stranglehold that spinners had on the game in the World Twenty20 for example. Fast bowlers who get their yorkers wrong will pay the price in these conditions, especially against batsmen adept at staying deep in the crease or flicking to fine leg. Extra pace and bounce will help established batsmen to plunder the late overs.

Most importantly, I think teams will do the math and realise that a Powerplay taken too late is a Powerplay wasted. I think we’ll see a lot more teams taking the option in the 30-40 over period, perhaps even in the 15-20 over range (if they get off to a great start) and then cashing in at the end against the lesser bowlers, even with the field spread. If the ball’s not turning or holding up and you’ve used your ‘finishers’ like Gul, Malinga, Lee, Parnell and the like earlier in the innings to stem the Powerplay bloodbath, you’ll be left with medium pacers or spinners at the end. I’m predicting some late carnage!

I’m looking forward to seeing the evolution of the Powerplay and to see if anyone’s really learnt anything from the recent past. If they haven’t, what’s the point of all those complicated software systems and statsgurus? It doesn’t take a genius to figure out the bleeding obvious – don’t leave the Powerplay so bloody late!!!!

I’ve often pondered as to why English domestic cricket produces so many skilled, pretty boy types who seem to thrive in local competitions but just seem to lack that indefinable ‘X Factor’ when it comes to playing gritty, ugly, effective innings that get you home in tight situations.

Watching every ball of the current ODI series in England has made me dwell even longer on this question. It’s not a question of talent, skill or dedication – Ravi Bopara for example looks classy and is probably more naturally gifted than say Cameron White or Callum Ferguson (on the surface anyway). Yet, when they come up against hard competitors who scrap like junkyard dogs, they forever seem to fall short.

The current Australian team is but a shadow of the vintage of the past two decades but they are the quintessential scavengers, hunting as a pack and feeding on loose scraps. Admittedly, England, sans Pietersen and Flintoff are not without their own personnel issues, but you sense that players like Bopara, Owais Shah and Ian Bell would be in the frame anyway. To watch any of these three players bat is to see fluidity, grace and a touch of class. They look the part. No doubt in County cricket and against some international teams, they act the part too. Their talent is evident for the world to see and yet …

Every time they come out to bat in tough situations that call for attritional rather than attractive cricket, I get that sense of foreboding that precedes an imminent soft dismissal. And so it proves to be, all too often. They don’t seem to get out to particularly good deliveries or struggle for timing but it seems like only a matter of time before they spoon one lazily to cover or get too cute with a lap-sweep or find some soft way to fulfil the prophecy (eg: hit wicket or run-out). The sad thing is I probably enjoy watching them bat more than the effective but less aesthetically pleasing batsmen like Collingwood, Strauss, White, Ferguson etc., but you just know that if your life depended on it, you’d be dashing off to check that the life insurance policy was paid up.

England seem to throw up these sorts of players more regularly than most other countries I can think of. I’m sure all domestic structures have these characters who dominate the local scene but rarely sustain it on the international stage but for some reason, in England, these players seem to enjoy relatively long international careers, recalled time and again for another predictably disappointing reincarnation.

David Gower was an obvious exception – his timeless elegance belied impressive numbers against most opposition but there have been so many others who never inspired genuine confidence, despite always looking a million dollars. On the other hand, you have guys like Collingwood, Thorpe and even Hussain who may not have necessarily been so pleasing on the eye but nonetheless played some memorable knocks when it mattered. When was the last time Bell, Bopara, Shah or even Luke Wright (not quite in the ‘pretty boy club’) scored an ugly 70 that won a tight match against feisty opposition on a difficult pitch?

It’s probably too simplistic to blame the County cricket system for producing these domestic run machines who just can’t seem to produce the goods consistently on the international stage when it really counts. Those issues have been debated for years now and I’m sure the brains inside English cricket have addressed these perceived problems. It’s certainly not a question of talent so much as temperament.

Cameron White is a prime example – in terms of sheer raw talent, Bopara, Bell and Shah probably have more going for them and probably score more heavily in domestic cricket. In fact, their Test and ODI averages are probably higher too. But numbers alone don’t tell the full story. Last night’s game at the Rose Bowl was a classic case in point. It was a slow pitch and a tight game with two relatively mediocre teams (therefore evenly matched) scrapping hard for supremacy but one always got the sense that Beauty would come second to the Beast in that contest. Even Michael Clarke’s tortured innings was eventually a matchwinning contribution. I cannot imagine Bell allowing himself to bat that poorly and yet keep going without throwing it away in frustration.

Perhaps it’s not quite the best time of the season to expect attractive strokeplayers like Bopara and Shah to make runs in September. I enjoy watching them bat, albeit only too briefly, so I’m hoping that the Champions Trophy on South African pitches will see a flood of runs. But I keep coming back to the point that it’s not just the volume of runs that matter – it’s the context in which they are scored. In England it seems, the pretty boys shine on parade days but go missing in the trenches when it all gets a bit down n’ dirty. I wait in hope…

Has anyone else noticed the change that comes over ex-cricketers as soon as they migrate to the commentary box? Even the most conservative of them suddenly see the action unfolding from a bird’s-eye perspective and advocate a far more attacking philosophy than when they played the game.

Throughout the last few months, I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the variety and diversity of the Sky Commentary team in England. The ‘regulars’ bring their own unique regional accents and personalities to the table, complemented by guest commentators like Shane Warne and Greg Blewett who seem to have fitted in seamlessly to the professional, neutral and slightly irreverent tone of the coverage. They provide serious analysis of the game but yet don’t seem to take themselves too seriously. They make the game fun without trivialising it.

What’s interesting though is the tendency among commentators the world over to be far more aggressive in their analysis than in their playing days. It makes me wonder if it is a phenomenon that occurs naturally when you have the luxury of viewing the game from afar, generally from a lofty height, compared to being caught up at ground level on the field where the gaps in the field may look wider and less defendable.

It is rare indeed to hear a commentator refer to a fielding captain as being too aggressive with his field placings. It’s almost always the case where commentators are advocating more catchers or more fielders in the circle. In almost every ODI game, there is a period when the captain has the minimum four fielders in the circle and the commentators reckon they should block up the singles. More often than not, it happens as a new batsman comes to the crease. From the commentary box or studio, there seems to be a general consensus that giving away the easy single, especially down the ground to the spinner, should not be allowed to happen.

Yet, many of these commentators probably did exactly the same thing when they were playing the game (apart from Warne who always had a reputation for keeping the field in). Nasser Hussain and Michael Atherton were probably fairly conservative types, Ian Botham and David Gower played in different eras under slightly different playing conditions and Michael Holding rarely worried about dropping sweepers back when he was thundering missiles down at 99 mph. Across other networks, Sunil Gavaskar and Geoff Boycott were hardly the most attacking players or captains, wonderful batsmen though they were. I won’t go through the entire list from around the world but I’m sure you get my drift.

It’s probably not a deliberate ploy to belittle the current captains. Instead, perhaps watching the game from a different angle or height and not being caught up in the pressure of being a combatant subconsciously allows us to be a lot less conservative. Even in Test cricket, you rarely hear a commentator analysing a field setting as being ‘too attacking’. They’re forever bemoaning the lack of an extra slip or a short-leg. The current fashion of dropping a cover sweeper out relatively early in the game is one that is very rarely applauded by the armchair experts. I must confess to agreeing with them on that one!

Warne is the surprise package of the summer for me. Much to my surprise, his commentary has been insightful, fair, eloquent and balanced. For someone who did not necessarily show such maturity in some aspects of his life, his on-air persona is a very marketable entity. As the most recent cricketer on the commentary team, he sometimes seems to be the most forgiving of captains who go on the defensive, although it is clear that if he was bowling, things would be a lot different!

I haven’t quite had the time yet to see if the bowlers or batsmen lean more towards aggression when they commentate. Mikey Holding of course is clearly in the camp of those who believe in the ‘attack, attack, attack’ philosophy but his pedigree and background may explain that. To be fair to Botham, he always played his cricket that way too but when it comes to the mere mortals like Hussain, Atherton, Mark Taylor, Bill Lawry, Sanjay Manjrekar, Ramiz Raja, Kepler Wessels etc, it will be interesting to listen to them over the next few months and see if they advocate a slightly different philosophy with microphone than with bat in hand.

At least that will give me something to focus on during those middle overs of an ODI when the field drops back and the game goes into a bit of a holding pattern until the Powerplay is taken. Now there’s one thing I agree 100% with the commentators on – why do they leave the batting Powerplay so bloody late?

Male professional sport in Australia is facing an image crisis at the moment. Despite strong spectator numbers, the various football codes (rugby league, AFL, soccer and rugby union) are continually fielding awkward questions about player behaviour, alcohol abuse, respect for women and violence. The National Rugby League’s brand is apparently so badly damaged that they are thinking of re-branding it and selling it to the public in another disguise. A dinosaur by any other name is still a dinosaur – for genuine change to occur, the culture of the sport needs to change. Merely calling it by another name won’t be enough to fool the community for too long. Sometimes, you have to surrender before you can start winning again.

Refreshingly, club cricket in Queensland is taking an innovative approach to addressing the spirit of cricket by introducing a new initiative called ‘Custodians of Cricket’. I attended their inaugural workshop earlier this week, aimed at all captains and club officials, cleverly designed to imbue them with the responsibility of honouring the spirit of the contest at all levels of grade cricket. In fact, Queensland Cricket are taking it so seriously that if a player who has not attended the ‘course’ ends up captaining a team during the season, that team will be deducted points.

I deliberately used the word 'contest' because it is in no way meant to detract from the competitiveness and winning desire that is endemic to Australian club cricket, even in the lowest grades. Especially in the lowest grades! This new programme is mindful of that culture, one of the bedrocks of the domestic system, yet it is trying to arrest a growing trend of anti-social behaviour that, if not halted in its tracks, will damage the sport.

I was particularly impressed with the way it tried to encourage the captains from different clubs to get to know each other on a personal level and break down the silly barriers that sometimes come with misplaced territorialism. At the end of the day, almost everyone in the room agreed that they play the game to win but also for the sheer enjoyment of it. The two need not be mutually exclusive. There is room for courtesy, manners and basic decency in a highly competitive contest.

Like any new initiative that attempts to break the mould, there will always be a period of flexibility and learning that can only come with time. One young gentleman appeared particularly vexed by the fact that one group suggested that it would be against the spirit of cricket to encourage fast bowlers to “kill him mate” (or words to that effect). He seemed to think that it was calling for a ban on short-pitched bowling, rather than the point of the argument (that it is in poor taste to wish physical injury on an opposition player). When he likened cricket to boxing and asked why it was okay to hit someone in the head in the boxing ring, it was clear that he missed the whole point of the evening altogether. When this same person later complained that watching cricket would no longer be much fun if he wasn’t allowed to abuse umpires or players from the grandstand, it became clear that some dinosaurs still roam the plains!

Workshops and forums are one thing – the proof will be in the pudding. As cricketers, we’ll be looking to see if the actions match the rhetoric. Not only do the captains have a moral responsibility to set the tone for their team’s culture but the administrators now have the tougher job of enforcing the standards. Previously, there was a sense that the benchmark was a fluid beast – depending on whether you were a representative player or not, the rules did not apply equally. At least, that was the perception. Cricket is by no means alone in this regard – match winners in all sports tend to be treated differently. That’s human nature.

An interesting discussion that arose from my group was the general consensus that the most frequent flashpoint for bad blood came in those first 2-3 seconds after a batsman had been dismissed. The ‘send-off’ and the subsequent tit-for-tat insults that flow often spill over into the rest of the game, sometimes even carried over into the next season. This is how inter-club vendettas can begin. If captains can somehow manage those adrenalin-charged moments of high emotion and allow the batsman to get away from the square without incident, we may well avoid a host of unseemly incidents.

Interesting times ahead….I’m a huge supporter of this new program to bring dignity back to our great game so long as all the stakeholders take it upon themselves to take this process seriously. Queensland Cricket can take a bow for taking this first important step towards re-inventing the culture of the sport. That’s the easy bit – the really brave decisions will come later in the season when the new rules are put to the test. Unless they are enforced uniformly, swiftly and without fear or favour, the dinosaurs will never truly be extinct.

In my 23rd year of club cricket, I have rarely looked forward to a season as much. Bring it on….

I hesitated before deciding to writing this piece because I realise it is likely to engender polarised opinions that sometimes descend into unnecessary nationalistic vitriol that moves away from the original debate. I’m hoping that this time, the comments that inevitably flow will avoid the usual temptations to take an entrenched ethnic stance and view it instead as a friendly chat over the neighbour’s wall.

As a dark-skinned Australian who began his cricket career in Australia, I cannot claim any discrimination or disadvantage based on my ethnic background. Any bias that I’ve experienced has been down to the fact that I’ve been limited by this ridiculous obsession with picking the best players! I suffered from simply not being good enough.

The debate is one worth having though. Why has Australia lagged behind say England, South Africa and New Zealand in terms of players from Asian or indigenous origin pulling on the baggy green? I can think of a few very rational reasons to explain this anomaly, especially the Asian angle.

To begin with, many young boys from South Asian backgrounds have family expectations to deal with. Speaking from personal experience, I know that they come under immense pressure to follow academic pathways and ‘safe’ careers rather than chasing exotic cricket dreams. It’s ironic because these same families will watch every game of cricket and worship the stars but for their own sons, there’s a genuine desire to set them on a traditional career pathway that requires an emphasis on study. That will change but it might take a decade or so to show. Don’t ask me why this doesn’t manifest itself in England – I can’t figure that one out myself.

From a pure cricketing perspective, the nature of Australian pitches lends itself to bigger, stronger physiques dominating senior club cricket. You have to be strong and robust enough to hit the deck and get bounce, therefore more suited to the Anglo-Saxon body shape. In England and New Zealand, the nagging medium-pacers and spinners come into their own, thereby opening up the field to bowlers who may lack the pure ‘grunt’ but can do enough with the ball at 125 kph. Australian pitches need to offer more variety full stop. It will automatically create more opportunities for players with different body shapes and techniques. The added bonus is that it will allow our players to adapt better to foreign pitches too.

Put it this way; at 4 pm on a hot summer’s day when the pitch is flat and the ball isn’t swinging, players with my slender physique simply lack the power game to extract that little bit of extra bounce. Where I became cannon fodder late in the day, some of my stronger Aussie mates who were 15 kilos heavier, with strong buttocks and shoulders managed to hit the deck that little bit harder and get something out of the pitch. Ask yourself – how many wiry, Asian fast bowlers consistently dominated in Australia, especially after the new ball burst? Guys like Wasim Akram, Imran Khan, Safraz Nawaz, Kapil Dev and Ishant Sharma are strong chaps with height and bounce.

As a batsman, you need to be able to play the horizontal bat shots in Australia if you are going to make it into the top six of a Sheffield Shield team. Again, that has not traditionally been an Asian strength, although that too is changing slowly. If you can’t score off the short ball, you become too one-dimensional on these pitches. Give it a few years and the young lads from Asian descent will have been spoon fed on these shots from birth and they’ll be hooking and cutting instinctively. It’s certainly not an instinctive shot for my migrant generation.

Psychologically, it’s no secret that Australian club cricket is played hard and uncompromisingly, sometimes too much so perhaps. It’s easy enough to mistake some of the sledging as ‘racist’ but from my experience, I found most of it to be opportunistic rather than redneck. They’ll do anything to put you off your game and if you react to a jibe relating to colour or race, you’ve then got a reputation for taking the bait and the vicious cycle continues until it then becomes a bit personal or heated. That’s where the trouble really begins. Believe me, the white cricketers get sledged just as much but their sensitive points might be fat/ugly/cowardly/parentage/whatever. Don’t get me wrong – I find this whole sledging thing distasteful in the extreme but I cannot honestly say that any of the sledging I’ve experienced has been motivated by pure racism. Normally, I don’t bat long enough to hear the rest of the repertoire anyway!

That style of cricket may not come easily to players from Asian or Aboriginal descent so perhaps that filters a few youngsters out of the game. That will change too as more young kids are born and bred in Australia, rather than having learn to cope on the run as I did when I came here as a 15-year old. This abrasive style is not easy to get used to but once you accept that there’s generally no malice in it, you tend to laugh it off and they leave you alone. That’s been my experience anyway.

Of course there will be exceptions and individual tales of discrimination. That happens anywhere and it is a travesty of justice for the victim. But I cannot agree that it is systemic in Australia. I can only speak for myself but I cannot truthfully claim to have been disadvantaged for any other reason than a plain absence of talent.

Change will come but when it happens, I hope it happens naturally and to those who deserve it. Perhaps we need to make sure that we don’t lose talent to the game at a younger age for all of the reasons described above but I’m sure the Australian cricket team of the future will have an ethnic diversity to it that will one day make this essay redundant. It’s not a black and white issue – just shades of glorious colour!

The charm of sport lies in the warm afterglow of careers like Andrew Flintoff. Sport allows for charisma and romance to overshadow mere statistics. It recognises that sheer force of personality and the ability to galvanise a nation counts for more than runs and wickets, averages and strike rates, win/loss ratios. Flintoff has the humility to recognise sport’s forgiving nature and he has the personal brand to capitalise on that sense of being bigger even than he deserves to be.

In a revealing interview with Jonathan Agnew of BBC’s radio commentary team, Flintoff speaks determinedly, yet without arrogance, about the next stage of his cricket career – to become the best player in the world in the short form of the game. Despite his optimism and the warmth surrounding the man in these hours of celebration, I simply can’t see that happening. Not by a long shot.

To say that is not to decry his talents or question his skill. Flintoff is an easy champion to like and to wish him well is not a difficult thing, even for an Australian, even after an Ashes loss. My reasoning is based purely on cricketing ability and durability. I don’t think Flintoff has the game or the body to possibly come close to realising this dream.

To begin with, to become the best limited-overs player in the game, he must first raise his game to hitherto unscaled heights to begin matching the pace-setters like Sachin Tendulkar, Jacques Kallis, Ricky Ponting, Chris Gayle, Kevin Pietersen, Sanath Jayasuriya, Muttiah Muralitharan and a host of others whose numbers stack up over a long period of time. Flintoff will probably not have the luxury of playing enough cricket, without interruption, to keep racking up performances to even be considered in that elite company. His fragile knees, ankles, back and shoulder (well, his whole body really) will make it virtually untenable to be considered for back-to-back ODI games, especially when you add the travelling and training requirements of a packed international calendar.

As a batsman, he will probably need to bat somewhere in the top five to have time to play enough innings of substance to be considered amongst the very best exponents of this craft. He will need hundreds, fast hundreds, slow hundreds, boundary-laden innings and others that require milking spinners and scampering runs when conditions dictate it. That’s why some of the great batsmen mentioned above have flourished for so long. They have a completeness to their batting which Flintoff doesn’t possess. Nor should he – he’s batted at 7 for most of his Test career and has played a totally different sort of role. Scoring hundreds against quality spin bowling in run chases on slowing tracks requires a range of strokes and a level of fitness that is probably beyond the big man. His power game is probably too one-dimensional at the moment. To be fair, he admitted as much in the radio interview, conceding that he needs to invent other strokes in his repertoire that go beyond the big booming drives down the ground. Modern ODI cricket can choke predictability all too predictably!

As a bowler, he needs to take wickets, lots of wickets, to rank amongst the genuine match-winners or game-turners in the shortened version of the game. That requires a body that doesn’t need the luxury of easing into his workload, short, sharp spells and the ability to cool down and warm up at short notice to return for game-changing moments. That’s not Flintoff’s body, especially not if he has already batted and has flung himself around in the field, as he would inevitably have to do once the slips have been dispensed with.

His economy rate is certainly no problem. 4.32 runs per over is more than satisfactory if he is striking at an average of close to two wickets per game. That’s the sort of territory that the Muralitharans, Warnes and Pollocks own – less than four runs per over and almost two wickets per game, playing every game in long tournaments. They also tend to have lots of big hauls that win matches singlehandedly, sometimes from impossible positions.

Flintoff’s natural length, shortish and tight in at the body will be frugal enough but without the luxury of slip fielders, he will simply lack the bowled and lbw dismissals that the best ODI bowlers need on predominantly flat tracks. Straightforward nicks to second slip will go flying down to third man for boundaries. He will need to change his length and develop a very good slower ball that is aimed at the stumps. I suspect it will be a bridge too far at his stage of evolution.

His safe hands and powerful arm will be adequate but the great fielders in the modern game need a lot more than that to regularly change games with consistent moments of brilliance. Again, his cumbersome frame will count against him. Mind you, what can you say about his ‘Ponting moment’ at the Oval?

At the end of the day, ODI’s and Twenty20s require the quintessential modern athlete to conquer it. To Flintoff’s eternal credit, he is anything but that. To me, that is his charm and his appeal. His fierce competitiveness doesn’t come at the expense of a broad smile. His lusty hitting won’t be sacrificed for the percentage ‘nurdle’. Flintoff is an old-fashioned buccaneer in a new age that has moved to a more scientific, clinical, innovative focus. The best player in the world he will never be but he will always embody what’s good about sport. Beer over boor. Heart over head. That’s the Freddie I’d like to remember!

	Mitchell Johnson doesn't need to get into the batsman's ear to prove he 'is around' © Getty Images

I make this prediction, hoping fervently that I will be wrong, yearning for another repeat of the 2005 Ashes when both teams played entertaining cricket without the ‘mongrel’. I’m clearly on the conservative side of the debate when it comes to sledging and on-field theatrics and I will no doubt cop a volley of abuse from those who firmly lean towards a less genteel culture. Fair enough – we’re all entitled to our preferences. Not that it is likely to make much difference to the combatants – they will dance to the tune of their own masters and mentors.

Let’s take Mitchell Johnson for example. Apparently his form slump can be fixed with a bit of sledging and on-field aggression. Paraphrasing the great Shane Warne, Johnson needs to let the Englishman know that he’s around (presumably, that is a euphemism for “give them a bit of a spray”). It matters not that Johnson’s wrist position may not be behind the ball or that he is dropping his front shoulder or that he is scrambling the seam. According to those who know best, it should all fix itself if only he could manufacture a bit of hatred and aggression towards those nasty, selfish batsmen who keep plundering him for boundaries. Let them know you’re there Mitchell!

Interesting theory…my guess is that they are acutely aware that he’s there all right! His name is on the team sheet, he’s bowled a few overs, thumped a few boundaries at Lord’s and he’s not the Invisible Man. Of course they know he’s there.

What about the “let them know you’re in a contest” line? Another statement that seems to state the bleeding obvious. It’s a Test Match for goodness sake. Of course it’s a contest. Since when did any Test cricketer (match-fixers apart) not want to give 100%? I can’t see how getting verbally aggressive and glaring at batsmen will suddenly change Johnson’s form. He’s a damn good bowler, going through a temporary form blip and whether he comes good or not will have more to do with the quality of his bowling rather than the range of invective.

Johnson’s slight improvement in the second innings at Edgbaston was attributed to this sudden shift in aggression apparently. Fed this psychobabble often enough, both teams will come to believe it and the rest of the series may descend into a bit of a sledgefest. Flintoff, totally likeable character that he is (as is Johnson by the way), seems to have got a headstart in this regard with his constant snipings after every semi-dangerous ball. With Flintoff though, you can almost see an apologetic smile lurking beneath, a boyish grin peeping out from underneath the steely glare. It’s almost like he’s putting on an act, all this huffing and puffing.

The signs are there already of a series that is threatening to boil over. Anderson and Watson have exchanged pleasantries, Siddle and Broad feel obliged to stoke up the heat and Ponting has never been shy of a word or three (except when it comes from a spectator). Personally, I prefer just watching good cricket without the Hollywood tantrums and the unseemly manners that sometimes get confused with great performances. McGrath was a great bowler, full stop. Not because he was a serial sledger. In fact, I would go so far as to say, DESPITE that distraction he was still a great bowler. Michael Holding, Malcolm Marshall, Sachin Tendulkar, Brian Lara, David Gower and even genial souls like Mike Hussey prove that real class owes nothing to verbal abuse. It’s just a sideshow that threatens to distract from the sublime pleasures of watching a beautiful game.

For those who argue that this sort of behaviour adds to the contest, I will not argue with them, lest it becomes another online sledgefest. Despite the eloquent and polished interview Matthew Hayden gave to BBC’s HardTalk program recently, I still can’t bring myself to see cricket as 'war'. It may only be a euphemism for “competitive cricket” but I’ve seen enough of wars to not want to taint my love of cricket with something as abhorrent as that. Cricket's cricket. Nothing more, nothing less.

Phillip Hughes – from golden boy to Twitter in three Test innings. It’s hard to fully comprehend the logic of the decision to drop him for Shane Watson until you put it into context with the overall balance of the team. And therein lies Hughes’ problem. It's not that they really wanted to axe him but it's all part of the problem when a star player hits the skids. An opening bat for a fast bowler - that's the currency we're talking about today.

Hughes has effectively paid the ultimate price for Mitchell Johnson’s horror stretch it appears. Ironically, both players finished the South African tour riding the heady wave of success. Since then, Hughes has three indifferent innings in Test cricket, Johnson has had four bad innings with the ball so Hughes is dropped so Johnson can live to fight another day. That’s a team sport for you!

Even though the selectors may never admit as much, it sounds like the Hughes decision has been made to keep Johnson in the side rather than to drop Hughes per se. The balance of the side obviously required some insurance against Johnson’s form loss so rather than just swapping Johnson for Stuart Clark, it looks like poor old Hughes gets the rough end of the pineapple. Shane Watson, fine batsman that he is, can probably thank his bowling skills for his inclusion at the top of the order. Who was the last opening batsman selected for his bowling I wonder? Maybe back to the days when India used to pick a medium pacer just to get the shine off the ball for the spinners to do their magic.

If Watson succeeds in the role, that opens up Pandora’s box. Do they then persist with him and try to turn him into a poor man’s Jacques Kallis? Will his fragile body hold up to that workload? Who was the last opening batsman who averaged 4.67 in first-class cricket (as an opener) to have been selected at the top of the order. In some senses, Watson has nothing to lose. A streaky boundary through slip and he’s just about beaten his average for this batting position.

If Watson fails, is he owed a few bits of the cherry before he too is then unceremoniously dumped? Surely they must now persist with him for a few Tests, allowing him the luxury of some breathing space. Not that Hughes was afforded such courtesies mind you! This was a man who scored two Test hundreds in one game not so very long ago against arguably the best seam attack in world cricket, on their home pitches.

What happens if Johnson has another bad game and gets dropped? Does that mean the balance of the side is restored and Hughes comes straight back into the reckoning? That would be most unfair on Watson, regardless of whether he scores runs or not in this Test.

What it means is that Australia, for so long the bastion of loyalty and stability, has now set a dangerous precedent for the ‘chop and change’ culture that they took so much delight in vilifying England for. Clearly, recent form has no place in the current selector’s thinking. Marcus North must be a bit nervous in case Watson or Andrew Macdonald start coveting his place. After all, his last Test century was more than one Test ago!

While Australia tinkers with out-of-form selection headaches, England has the delicious opposite. Their biggest conundrum is whether to bring in the rampantly in-form Steve Harmison or stick with their winning formula. In this sense, I’d rather be in England’s shoes but one more poor showing from Stuart Broad, if it coincides with a loss, could spell curtains for him. He probably owes his spot in the team to Flintoff. Hughes owes his loss to Johnson.

Delicious ironies indeed – that’s why cricket is unsurpassed as a game of intrigue and utter fascination. Both teams are playing the same game but might as well be on different planets. Funny how one win at Lords, having just scraped a last-wicket draw at Cardiff, can change the course of someone’s career. Just ask Hughes. Or check out his Twitter page!

I mean, what does it really mean? Does it exclude gamesmanship? Is it about promoting sportsmanship? Does outright cheating contradict this charter or is cheating itself a matter of being caught doing it? Is it about playing within the laws of the game but walking on the very edge of the line that separates black from white? Where do the umpires fit in to this charter – are teams only contravening this spirit if they question the umpire’s verdict? What about things like sledging, walking or claiming a doubtful low catch when no one but the player knows the real truth?

The fall-out from the thrilling finale to Cardiff Test match merely underscores the pointlessness of an amateurish concept like ‘the spirit of cricket’ in what is essentially a cut-throat, professional business. At the end of the day, it’s about the bottom line, it’s about winning. And it’s about not losing. How does something spiritual expect to exist in that sort of environment?

The only way for a noble but essentially irrelevant concept like this to meaningfully find its way back into cricket is for the ICC to take a firm position on what it stands for. Otherwise, it will simply become a toy gun conveniently toted by captains when it suits them. The moral high ground will merely become another cynical platform that floats on very thin ice.

For instance, what is the position on issues like walking or claiming dubious catches? Do we just leave all decisions to the umpire and accept them gracefully? Is it that “grace” that defines the spirit of cricket? Or does it go beyond a mere passive acceptance of a decision to actually walking when you know you’ve nicked it or not appealing for a catch that is clearly not out?

When it comes to the matter of sledging, is there an invisible line in the sand that all cricketers respect? Is race, religion or ethnicity placed on a higher moral plane than someone’s marriage or their sister’s alleged promiscuity or any other special category of insult designed to put them off their game? Who decides and who arbitrates? Are there special allowances to be made for cultural sensitivities and personal circumstances? Clearly, it is almost impossible to come up with a sensible line in the sand that all cricketers agree on. What’s deeply hurtful to one cricketer will be a laughing matter for another. What’s more, what might be a joke today might be a mortal wound tomorrow, even to the very same individual. So where does the spirit of cricket sit in relation to sledging or mental disintegration or any other fancy term that is used to legitimise verbal intimidation? Why is it just so-called ‘time-wasting’ that has got Ponting so worked up?

Who is judge and jury? Clearly the ICC has yet to come up with a system that is consistent and reliable. Gautam Gambhir gets suspended for making physical contact with Shane Watson by the English match referee, Chris Broad. Yet, when his own son, Stuart Broad, makes physical contact with Peter Siddle at a tense moment of a gripping Test match, the match referee sees no problem with that. That sort of inconsistency merely tempts players to test the boundaries. Ask the players and they’ll tell you it was all in the heat of the moment and they’re all big boys who can handle matters between themselves. Why was the Gambhir case not handled like that too then?

I did not recall seeing England complaining too much when the West Indies held out for a draw in Antigua recently. Strauss and his men simply accepted that it was a perfectly legitimate way to save a game. Leave it to the umpires. Similarly, when the roles were reversed, it was now England’s turn to adopt whatever strategies were available, including some fairly obvious stalling tactics, to save this Test. Australia did that in Old Trafford in 2005 when Ponting played a masterful innings. Until the umpires say otherwise, that is deemed to be an acceptable tactic for any team to adopt when faced with that situation. It makes a mockery of Ponting’s indignation - since when was the spirit only restricted to this tiny facet of the game? What about sledging or walking or gamesmanship or slow over rates or any number of other aspects of the modern game that all teams engage in when it suits them?

And how does Strauss keep a straight face when he claims that “our intentions were good”? Why not just come out and say “yes, we did everything possible to drag out the game and save the Test?” Where’s the shame in that?

In the end, it was left to Nathan Hauritz to bring some much-needed honesty to the debate by admitting that he would have done the same thing if the role was reversed. The only thing surprising about this whole episode is the ridiculous pretence that the spirit of cricket actually exists when there’s a game to be won or saved. For the spirit to be reincarnated, it needs to be an “all or nothing” approach to honesty and fair play. In an era where we now have third-umpire referrals, even for catches, it’s foolish to expect that.

	Martyn appears to be keen to join the list of cricketers who now view the John Buchanan era in a far less favourable light © Getty Images

With less than a week to go before the Ashes series begins, perhaps both teams might do us all the courtesy of telling us whether they think they are well prepared for the series or not? Anyone can make excuses after the event – let’s hear the truth before it all starts so that we can then judge the final outcome with all grudges and platitudes aired beforehand.

The graceful Damien Martyn, he of silken touch and impeccable balance with bat in hand, appears to lack that poise in a recent interview that is as clumsy as it is ungracious. In dissecting the 2005 Ashes loss, Martyn appears to be keen to join the list of cricketers who now view the John Buchanan era in a far less favourable light than at the height of the Australian dynasty.

Don’t get me wrong – I’m not here to defend Buchanan or any other coach for that matter. I’m firmly in the camp of those who think that this modern preoccupation with multiple coaches and support staff is a case of massive overkill. What is amusing though is the number of cricketers who seem to enjoy sinking the boot in to the easy target – the coach – after a series is completed and lost.

Martyn appears to echo the long-held views of Shane Warne and Stuart MacGill in being anti-Buchanan. No surprises there. Recently, Warne has been on a mission to rubbish just about everybody in the game (Ravi Bopara for example) so his comments about Buchanan are consistent at least. He has never been a big fan of coaches per se, not until he became one himself for the Rajasthan Royals. All of a sudden, a coach was no longer a mode of transport but an essential part of a cricket team’s personnel. I even heard him claim, ridiculously, that a coach was more important in T20 cricket than in any other form of the game. OK Warnie, time for another slimming tablet from Mummy. We believed that story too!

Back to Martyn’s comments though; he seems to insinuate that the preparation for that series in 2005 was a shambles and that it contributed significantly to the surrender of the Ashes. Looking back through the archives and relying on my imperfect memory, I can’t recall any such complaints before the series started. In fact, after the crushing victory in the First Test at Lord's, it was business as usual, a mere formality to crush the hapless Poms blah blah blah. No suggestion then of poor preparation or an unhappy camp.

Likewise England’s Ashes Tour of 2006/07. Duncan Fletcher arrived on tour with halo glowing and finished the tour with reputation tarnished. If the preparation and coaching was so poor (like 2005 for Australia), why did the senior professionals not address the issue and make changes? Because, like Martyn, it’s easier to wait to see the final result and then look for excuses everywhere but in the mirror.

Martyn’s complaints don’t just stop with the coach. He goes on to talk about poor umpiring decisions (oh good, that’s a new one – never heard that excuse before!), a lack of hunger because the Ashes apparently meant more to England than to Australia (oh really, the Ashes were only a minor distraction from the main series against Zimbabwe or Bangladesh were they?) and a little dig at Cricket Australia for “beefing people up” with unrealistic expectations. Refreshingly, he goes on to admit that Australia’s focus had apparently shifted from the preoccupation with the Ashes to other things like winning the World Cup and winning on the Subcontinent. Hmmm…admirable but not wholly believable I’m afraid. I can’t recall hearing such noble global awareness before the Holy Grail was surrendered.

The problem with retrospective excuses is that they always end up sounding a bit lame. During the Ashes in 2005, Martyn complained about the infamous Pratt run-out of Ponting, claiming that Australia rarely used the best fielder but the 12th man who was usually a big, burly fast bowler. He conveniently forgot that Australia’s substitute fielder, Brad Hodge, caught Pietersen and Vaughan in the previous Test at Old Trafford. Hodge was not the 12th man in that Test and he is arguably a much better fielder than Kasprowicz so it made a mockery of the indignation that came with the Ponting run-out. At the end of the day, it was a brilliant piece of fielding and a poorly judged run. That’s cricket.

So, before this Ashes series kicks off in earnest, please come out and tell us how you really feel. Are you well prepared? Is it the most important thing on your minds or are you distracted by something else? Is there a problem in the camp or is it all rosy between captain, coach and senior players? Was there enough time after the T20 World Championship to acclimatise to the red balls, white clothing and the different demands of Test cricket? Let’s get everything out in the open, both teams, excuses and morale-boosting statements alike and let’s get on with it. And may the best team win.

My recent post about Queensland replacing Western Australia as the production line for fast bowlers, got me thinking about why such patterns emerge and what factors may trigger change. Why has the West Indies’ factory come to such a shuddering halt for example? There was a time when some of the guys who could not make their first XI would have been snapped up by any other international team. Chaps like Sylvester Clarke, Wayne Daniel and Ezra Moseley were genuinely scary but couldn't regularly crack the top team.

As much as Australia and South Africa continue to churn out good quicks, why is it now the case that some of the best fast bowling talent is emerging from the subcontinent? It’s a much a cultural shift as anything else – fast bowlers are no longer viewed as the quick entrée before the main meal. Is it down to coaching, nutrition, equipment or even a change in the physique of the Asian male?

To get some answers from someone who has recent experience of the art of fast bowling in Australia and India, I hunted down Joey Dawes, former Queensland and Middlesex fast bowler and the current fast bowling coach of the Queensland Bulls. Just in case there was any doubt about his commitment to the ‘club’, Joey also runs a specialist business which converts 'joggers' into fast bowling shoes by spiking them according to the individual’s running style, heel pattern, bowling action etc. It’s a pretty scientific operation, in consultation with podiatrists and other health professionals. His clients include Brett Lee, Mitchell Johnson and Jimmy Anderson. Not surprisingly, his business is called Fast Bowlers United. They’re a close knit bunch these dumb, quick bowlers!

Joey’s view on the modern coaching philosophy is part scientific, part gut instinct. His program includes enormous emphasis on ‘core strength’ (from abdomen to upper thighs) to enable his young charges to be able to get into the best possible position at the point of delivery to then allow their natural skills to flourish. Without good core strength, he believes the bowler’s action gets corrupted at that crucial point when the wrist needs to be behind the ball to enable it to swing.

Not only does poor core strength cause injury concerns but from a pure performance perspective, it might explain why some bowlers stop swinging the ball or “hitting the deck” (another buzz word in the fast bowling lexicon) when they start to get a bit tired. One of Joey’s pet projects is to get his protégés bowling equally sharp second and third spells, late in the day. In the contemporary game, a new ball bowler who is ineffective with an older ball later in the day, due to fatigue or not swinging the old ball, soon becomes the twelfth man!

Gone are the days though when the secret to being a genuine fast bowler was merely attributed to physique and muscle mass, thereby virtually rendering the smaller Asian frame obsolete. It’s clear now that the most open-minded coaches readily accept that there’s so much to the art than looking at such simplistic measures. There have been too many quality fast bowlers with wiry physiques and whippy actions to hold such a prejudiced and narrow view. From Kapil to Imran to Akram and more recently to Vaas’ guile, Malinga’s sling and a host of quality exponents like Akhtar, Zaheer, Gul and a host of others, it is a fool who continues to think that fast bowlers can only come from the one factory. Pace, swing, cutters and slower balls are now as much a skill-set in the subcontinent as on hard, bouncy or seaming wickets elsewhere.

Joey firmly believes that while the basic skills have remained remain constant for a hundred years (eg: core strength and good wrist position), the clever coaches now accept that there is an art form that is developing in the subcontinent that has contributed enormously to fast bowling lore. Twenty years ago, who would have thought that fast bowlers (and coaches) from around the world would descend on Chennai to hone their craft?

That’s exactly where Joey Dawes is headed this week – the MRF Pace Foundation in Chennai. He’s taking a few young fast bowlers with him, hoping that some of the Indian expertise will rub off on them. Interestingly, he reckons it’s not the physical skills that he’s looking to learn; there are a whole lot of mental skills that come with the territory. Patience, variety, reverse-swing, coping with heat and bowling to batsmen who play in ‘different areas’ on Indian pitches are some of the lessons that bowlers need to understand if they are to succeed in global conditions. With the lure of the IPL, every young quick bowler can now see the value in becoming an effective exponent on these pitches. There’s also a real sense that to succeed in the Subcontinent, you must first learn to appreciate the other cultural aspects like the food, the history and the deep-rooted passion for the game. I sensed his enthusiasm for the week ahead was a lot more than technical analysis.

I’d love to be a fly on the wall this week in Chennai, listening to all these fast bowlers exchanging ideas. For all their so-called ‘skill acquisition” gobbledygook, I bet they all share one common love – the sight of batsmen ducking and weaving, wearing bruises on their ribs and cracked helmets. The more things change, the more they stay the same. Fast Bowlers United indeed!

I’m hoping to have Part 2 of this story after Joey returns from India. I still think too many of our youngsters here in Australia get 'over coached' so I'm interested to see what Joey thinks of the system in India. At what point does raw talent need to be refined? With better equipment (like tailor-made shoes), will that make a massive difference to the number of athletes coming through the system? I'll ask him soon...

Just when I thought it was safe to assume that Shahid Afridi’s career as a genuine all-rounder was well and truly extinguished, he finds a maturity in his game that I was convinced he did not possess. Perhaps now, nigh on ten years after his stunning entry into the international game in Nairobi, we might yet see the sort of cricketer his talent always promised. If his last two Twenty20 innings is any indication of the new Afridi, strap yourselves in. This could be a wild ride!

The great irony of the Twenty20 triumph is that it now offers Afridi no more excuses for wasting his batting talents. For too long, he has taken refuge under the convenient umbrella of being classified, perhaps wrongly, of being a one-dimensional slogger. It has been an excuse that he has probably been only too happy to use because it afforded him immunity from those who tried to convince him that he was selling himself short by trying to slog every ball out of the ground. No more excuses Mr Afridi. We all know now that you’ve got the class, the patience and the shot selection to play much more meaningful innings than the brief cameos that you’ve become all-too-famous for.

His bowling has improved out of sight but that’s always been a steady part of his game. He rarely bowls that astonishingly quicker delivery that is through the batsman before he is on his downswing but is more consistent even without that variety. I remember Greg Blewett being completely dumbfounded by his Exocet missile in an ODI in Australia early in Afridi’s career but I can’t remember his googly being anywhere near as effective as in the last few months. In tandem with Ajmal, those middle overs now belong to Pakistan again, something they’ve missed since Saqlain Mushtaq finished up.

It’s Afridi’s batting though that interests me. What the Twenty20 championship has proved to everybody, perhaps even to Afridi himself, is that he is doing himself a massive disservice if he continues to swing like a barn door at every ball he faces. He showed us that he has delicate touch shots like the sweep and the punch down to long-on to take the single that’s on offer when the ball is not in the slot. His power has never been questioned so the boundary shots are always threatening but now that he has discovered the art of subtlety, he’s virtually impossible to bowl to. If only someone could convince him that the longer he’s at the crease, the more runs he’ll score. It’s hardly rocket science but it doesn’t seem to have registered with Afridi. Yet.

Pakistan need to do him a favour though and allow him to bat in the top order when the fielding restrictions are still in. It allows him to get away with the odd mis-hit and also allows him to score quickly with fewer risks, thereby calming the beast within. Once he’s over that initial 20 ball period, he tends to settle in and bat with a bit more commonsense (by his standards anyway!). It’s just a matter of giving him every chance to survive those early moments when his brain is running faster than the game situation dictates. Let’s face it – a fielder on the boundary has never stopped Afridi from taking him on anyway so why not send him in early when there are less fielders in the outfield.

Admittedly, he sometimes struggles against the moving ball and the shorter one directed at his ribs but then again, who doesn’t? Now that he has found a new lease of life, perhaps he will eschew that ridiculous pull/hook/hoick off the front foot and deal with the short one by backing away and slashing over point. That forces them to pitch it up and we all know what’s going to happen next.

It’s easy to forget how young Afridi still is. It feels like he’s been around forever, thrilling and disappointing us in unequal measure. It’s time now for the Grown-up Shahid Afridi to take us on the ride that he’s been promising for so long. Consistency and Fireworks are not necessarily mutually exclusive bedfellows. He’s proved that in two brilliant knocks when it mattered most in the Twenty20 Championship. Wild Child meets Self Belief – what an explosive combination. This kid could be anything.

	MS Dhoni is a man who is comfortable in his own skin © Getty Images

What’s not to like about MS Dhoni? Even as an outsider, a neutral, someone who just watches cricket for the sheer pleasure of the sport without any patriotic leanings, I find myself drawn towards a character like Dhoni. He is hard to dislike.

Reading his post-match interviews after India’s surprising exit from the World T20 Championship, it is clear that Dhoni is a man who is comfortable in his own skin. He offers reasons, not excuses. He accepts blames, shares it sometimes but never looks to shift it. He concedes mistakes, both by himself and from his team without appearing to be too self-effacing or disloyal. He has a quiet dignity that is able to accept defeat with relative grace whilst still showing the right measure of pain and disappointment. The captain of India needs to walk this line carefully. Too many self-recriminations and the knives will be out. Too blasé and they’ll accuse you of not caring enough. Dhoni looks to have found the right balance.

It was interesting to see that the first person he singled out for blame was himself. He admitted to not doing as well as he would have liked, to not playing the sort of explosive innings that his early reputation was forged on and for getting it slightly wrong with certain tactical decisions. He wasn’t necessarily apologising because he doesn’t need to. Why apologise? He didn’t mean to bat poorly or make tactical errors – it just happened. That's T20 cricket for you - it's a very fine line between winning and losing. So he didn’t apologise but he still expressed regret and took responsibility.

Even on the field, there’s a lot to admire about his captaincy style. He manages to strike that delicate balance between being animated and excited without crossing the line to becoming hyper-excited or irrationally emotional. Watching from afar, you sense the players trust him, respect him but do not fear him. Chris Gayle errs on the side of being ‘ultra cool’ although the word on the street is that his players adore him. To be fair, his style tends to suit the West Indian cricketing culture where almost all of their captains were strong men who rarely got flustered. I can’t think of the last Windies skipper who ‘lost it’ in public, despite some terrible floggings in recent times. Even Lara, tortured genius that he was, displayed great manners and dignity throughout his difficult reign.

Back to Dhoni though – I just hope that the post-mortem from the T20 disappointments don’t go too far and see him removed from the job. He’s a breath of fresh air for the game and it continues India's recent tradition of captains who command respect. Dravid and Kumble were both men who believed that to be strong did not mean you had to throw your weight around like a bully. Both quintessential gentlemen. Like them, Dhoni appears strong enough to stand up to any international captain but affable enough to make every effort to get on with them too. You get the sense that he commands genuine respect from the opposition.

He might have to look at his own game and ponder on whether the captaincy is curbing those wonderful attacking instincts that announced his arrival on the world stage. He is probably more reliable these days but does India need that from him? I would prefer to see someone else playing the Mr Reliable role and Dhoni returning to being the powerhouse middle-order batsman who can transform a game in a few brutal minutes. He is probably less feared today than he was two years ago. Ask most opposition teams which Dhoni they’d fear more and I suspect it would be Dhoni Mark I.

The partnership with Gary Kirsten should be a good one for India. Kirsten was an uncomplicated player without frills or ego but his effectiveness as a very fine batsman was never questioned. Like Dhoni, he seems to be an essentially decent man who operates without histrionics and public displays of petulance or triumphalism. For India’s sake, I hope the partnership is allowed to continue. For the sake of world cricket, it’s important to have two strong men of integrity leading the most influential team in the world, on and off the field.

I just hope the team balance allows the real MS Dhoni to show himself again. I’m talking about the man with wrists of steel who uses a short backlift to muscle the ball over the boundary. India has plenty of others who can play the percentages but when a player like Dhoni comes along, it would be a crying shame to shackle his instincts. Maybe that’s what captaincy does for you. Maybe that’s why Adam Gilchrist never really fancied the job. Mind you, it hasn’t worried Chris Gayle too much – he still only knows one way and it is that reputation that makes teams nervous. Just knowing that Gayle might go off is enough to put you off your game. Dhoni has that same power but it's been locked away for some time. Unleash the beast I say.......

	Ashley Noffke is the latest in the list of fast bowlers moving to Western Australia © Getty Images

“Go West young man”. It appears to be the new anthem for any fast bowler in Australia looking for a new home. Western Australia, long considered to be the breeding ground for fast bowlers, is now the migrating home for disillusioned 'quicks' seeking opportunities on pitches long considered to be the fastest and bounciest pitches in the world.

Ashley Noffke is the latest quick bowler to join the Western Australia Warriors. Nurtured in Queensland, Noffke has had a very public falling-out with the locals and has decided to move to Perth to begin anew the quest to add to his solitary ODI cap. A fine bowling allrounder with a high action and a good outswinger, he joins a West Australian attack that is virtually entirely "Made in Queensland". Steve Magoffin and Ben Edmondson were both fringe players in the Queensland system when they left home, unable to crack the pedigree attack of Michael Kasprowicz, Andy Bichel, Joey Dawes, Mitchell Johnson and Noffke himself. For Queensland, an embarrassment of riches has now become a fast bowling kindergarten again, having lost the first three of those players to retirement and the latter two names to the West.

Noffke’s defection seems to be the bitterest pill to swallow, judging by local reaction. The public appear to be pretty ‘dirty’ on the Queensland Bulls administration, blaming them for a lack of loyalty in only offering Noffke a one year contract and for suggesting that he be left in cotton wool for the longer version of the game only. To be fair to Queensland, it must be noted that it is their preferred policy to offer one year contracts to most senior players. It’s a curious tradition but one that Noffke is well aware of. Shunned by Australian selectors after a brief taste of international cricket and crippled by persistent injury last season, he clearly felt slighted by the offer of a short contract and decided to call a very public bluff by releasing a media statement through his manager. As far as ransom notes go, it fell flat. Hello Perth, hello Fremantle Doctor. Noffke will take plenty of wickets at the WACA if he stays fit.

It’s difficult to pinpoint exactly why the fast bowling factory in Western Australia has dried up in recent times. There was a time not long ago when it was a fertile breeding ground for the best 'quicks' in the country. Dennis Lillee, Terry Alderman, Bruce Reid, Jo Angel, Brendon Julian and Chris Matthews came through that halcyon period. Ironically, Western Australia’s three most recent Test fast bowlers have all come from interstate – Matt Nicholson, Brad Williams and Mitchell Johnson (who moved to Perth to be closer to his partner). Even more ironically, Western Australia’s most recent Test bowlers have actually been spinners; Brad Hogg and a bit of part-time stuff from Marcus North. In the Lillee heyday when the WACA was by far the most feared pitch in the world, that would have been unthinkable.

Mind you, such ironies are not restricted only to Australia. West Indies captains have always turned to their giants to restrict opposition batsmen but who would have thought that it would be a slow left-arm orthodox bowler? Suleiman Benn is now the most reliable bowler available to Chris Gayle. What next – a 200 cm Indian fast bowler with a Bon Jovi hairstyle and a vicious bouncer? Never......

Whilst Queensland supporters are irate at their system for allowing Noffke to fly the coop, I can see why the CEO decided to hold his ground and not be held to ransom by one player. In an era where ‘player power’ rules supreme, it is a refreshing change to see a situation where a CEO sticks to a decision made on principle. This week, in the midst of a global recession when ordinary Australians are being asked to make sacrifices, our cricketers have just been given a pay rise and even the WAGs have been granted flight upgrades. They will no doubt regret losing a player of Noffke’s ability but at least the rest of their young squad realise that the selectors have enough faith in them to let him go without caving in to pressure from managers and blog sites. A glass is either half-full or half-empty. This is Queensland’s chance to show that the HQ of the national fast bowling factory is still in Brisbane.

Will there ever be another dynasty with the calibre of Rackemann, Kasprowicz, Bichel, Dale, Noffke, Johnson, McDermott, Muller etc? The name McDermott rings a bell….his son, Alister made his debut for the Bulls last season. There must be something in the water here!

	Andrew Symonds is entitled to make his own lifestyle choices and accept the consequences © Getty Images

Apparently Andrew Symonds may have a slight issue with alcohol. Shock, horror. After months of denials from his management team, an assurance from his counsellors that he was ready to take up life in the public spotlight again and complete confidence expressed in him by the selectors/team-mates, apparently there may still be a lingering problem. Really?

Apparently he now faces the very real possibility of having his Cricket Australia contract ripped. Gosh, we never saw that one coming!

Apparently the team and the administrators feel that he’s had enough chances. Apparently the new team culture cannot make any more allowances for someone with an alcohol problem. This surprising revelation came from Ricky Ponting, looking solemn and sad and ever-so-slightly ridiculous in his VB cap and VB team shirt. No place for alcohol in this environment Roy. Not for public consumption anyway!

Apparently the terms of his contract had a special clause to help him deal with this slight penchant for a beer. What do you do with someone who may have a wee drinking problem? Of course - allow him to drink with team-mates in the dressing room or in the hotel but for goodness sake, don’t let him be seen in public. He can drink if he likes but he just can’t be seen to be drinking.

Apparently that will fix the problem. Just ask any expert in that area (not that I am one!) and they’ll tell you that the best thing for someone in Symonds’ position is to allow him to drink in private but ensure he isn’t seen doing it in public. Yeah right. Make sure someone is always assigned to look after him 24/7 and frogmarch him back to his hotel room if things go a bit pear shaped. There’s a great alcohol management plan! Apparently.

It’s hardly like this latest showdown is any great surprise. Blind Freddy (not Flintoff in the Caribbean on a pedalo)) could have predicted this without the benefit of counsellors and psychologists. Here is a guy who is clearly battling with what he wants out of life. No secret there. I predicted this situation back in September 2008 and a few weeks ago when the Ashes squad was announced. Surely those closest to him would have seen this coming?

Symonds is entitled to ask himself; are these friends, managers, counsellors and employers actually interested in my welfare or do they just want to use my marketability and skill until I become a liability? Any contract that merely requires me to maintain a public image while turning a blind eye to a growing problem in private sounds more like a PR exercise than a genuine effort to help me find any long-term solutions to whatever it is that is bugging me.

It’s probably time now to give him some time to make his own decisions and then treat him no differently to any other member of the squad. Everyone should know the rules and the rules should apply to equally to everyone. Simple as that. Grown men taking responsibility for themselves without having to rely on having a ‘minder’ to watch over them. If that’s what it takes to control one individual in a team environment, what does that say about the culture of that organisation?

That might be exactly what Symonds needs. He can make his own choices and choose his own ‘inner-circle’ of people who are prepared to support him through those choices. He won’t feel that sense of betrayal and confusion about his Jekyll & Hyde image problem. He can be free to be himself, whoever or whatever that is and his employers can decide if he fits into that culture. With or without a VB cap.

The best place to look for truth is in front of the mirror. For Symonds, there’s nothing to be gained for yearning wistfully for the days of Lillee, Marsh, Boon etc and the baggy green culture that prevailed then. Whether we agree with it or not, those days have gone. The memories of poorly paid cricketers, flying economy-class and working part-time jobs have also long gone. You take the good with the bad.

He’s entitled to make his own lifestyle choices and accept the consequences. This is a man who jumps on wild pigs in the outback, just for something to do to pass the time of day. If he wants to have a beer or ten and turn his back on cricket, surely that is his prerogative.

On and off the field, he was always prepared to play big shots and take his chances. Death or glory. That’s Andrew Symonds. So long as he understands that his actions are his own responsibility and that it is not upto anybody else to protect him, cover for him or chaperone him. In public or in private.

Are the best cricketers of our times born with talent or have they been unwittingly dealt the best hands in life, courtesy of their lucky birth date? Millions of people around the world believe in astrology and auspicious dates but could it be much simpler than that? How many potentially great cricketers were never heard of, lost to the game before their talent was allowed to blossom?

In his best-selling book Outliers, Malcolm Gladwell explores the playing rosters of many American and European team sports (ice hockey, basketball, football) and discovers the amazing coincidence of birth dates. In a system that has a junior selection system based on a calendar year (January 1 to December 31), his statistics show that an extraordinarily high percentage of athletes’ birthdays are from the first few months of the year.

His theory is that in junior sport these boys naturally tend to be bigger, stronger and physically more advanced than boys who are born later in that year. At a young age, this is a significant advantage and leads to the same group of boys dominating their junior teams, being regularly selected for the top teams, getting the best coaching and widening the gap between those born later in that 12-month cycle.

His is a convincing argument which also suggests that the younger kids get discouraged by that disparity in physical maturity (and not getting selected for junior rep teams) and they tend to drop out of that sport, thereby fulfilling the prophecy of the older boys who continue to make all the top teams through to adulthood.

It made me wonder if cricket has a similar story to tell. Do the best international cricketers owe something to their birth dates and the natural advantage it gave them at a young age? Does physical maturity and size matter for a non-contact sport like cricket? After all, most of the best batsmen are relatively small fellows (Brian Lara, Sachin Tendulkar, Don Bradman, Allan Border, Ricky Ponting, Sunil Gavaskar etc).

In order to test this theory in a very non-scientific way, I decided to look at the current World Twenty20 squads of every major cricketing country and see how many of the 15 squad members were born in the first or second half of the year. Here are the results:

Oh well, there goes that theory I thought. Most countries, England apart, are inconclusive or lean strongly towards the reverse of Gladwell’s theory. No advantage in being born earlier in the calendar year.

It then occurred to me that most countries, England apart, have cricket seasons that mirror the Southern Hemisphere summer. At junior levels, do they select age-group squads from a July or September cut-off date? If so, does that go some way towards explaining the bias in countries like Australia, NZ, Pakistan and India towards boys born in the second half of the year? India especially has an amazingly high ratio, 14/15 of their current T20 squad born between July and December.

Now I’m the first one to admit that looking at a single Twenty20 tournament only tells a tiny fraction of cricket’s long history. And I’m not even sure if these countries do indeed have junior cut-offs that runs from say September 1 to August 30 for example. I’d be fascinated to hear from people around the world who may be able to shed some light on this question. Perhaps there’s more to this theory after all!

And if England’s junior age cut-off operates according to a calendar year, that makes it even more interesting…..are we on to something here? Their stats show a leaning towards players born in the first six months.

Going back in time, let’s look at the World Cup winning teams and runners-up (if it involves Australia, New Zealand, England or the subcontinent) from 1983 to 1992. This safely eliminates anybody currently playing in the World Twenty20. I’ve looked at New Zealand’s semi-final team from 1992 too.

The pattern still seems to be (largely) holding true. England’s statistics from that period are slightly misleading because so many of their players from that era were not born in England and may have started their junior careers under some other country’s system (Gladstone Small, Graeme Hick, Allan Lamb, Chris Lewis, Philip DeFreitas and many more). If you take out those ‘foreign born’ players, the figures support this theory even more.

Confining my analysis to these four countries (India, Pakistan, Australia and England), I had a quick look at the top 10 players in the current ICC rankings for Tests and ODI’s. For players from these nations, batsmen and bowlers, the trend is still consistent:

Even if the cut-off dates do not support my theory, it is quite odd that all countries that play cricket between September-March seem to have more cricketers born in the second half of the year. Why is that? Unless there's some unusual factor in play, the results should be roughly 50/50 but India especially has nowhere near a 50% ratio. It's massively skewed in favour of players born in the second half of the year. What's the reason?

Another interesting fact is that when a player defies the broad trend for his country, it is usually a child protege, someone who was always destined to make it. These are the rare talents who were always likely to be much better than their age cohorts. It didn’t really matter if they were competing with older boys. Shahid Afridi, Michael Clarke, Tendulkar, Hasan Raza and Vinod Kambli for example are all born in the first half of the year (opposite to the trend). Their genius (at a young age) was never going to be denied by anything, least of all a favourable birth date.

Gladwell’s examples aren’t just restricted to sport. He cites numerous research studies in mathematics, science, reading and university education where the statistics are significantly skewed in favour of the oldest children of that year batch. It’s a natural advantage that seemingly begins at a young age and keeps repeating itself over a person’s lifetime as they continue to benefit from the common mistake of comparing maturity with ability at too young an age. There is no doubt that in most aspects of life, a child is advantaged by being the oldest in his/her age group and if this means they keep getting selected in the ‘gifted’ stream or team, their improvement continues with the best coaching, encouragement and opportunities. Their inevitable success is almost a fait accompli.

If this phenomenon is actually true in cricket, the long-term answer might be in having a rolling cut-off date for junior cricketers. It might be Jan 1 followed by July 1 the next year and so on. Theoretically, this should give all youngsters a fair chance to compete with boys of their own size and maturity. It could mean that we have twice as many talented kids to choose from once that maturity/size factor evens out.

For Australia and New Zealand with small populations where cricket competes with other sports for the best athletes, this may be a crucial tool in talent retention. For India with a billion-plus people to whom cricket is clearly the number one sport, perhaps it doesn’t really matter. From what I’ve seen on the maidans and alleyways in India, a shortage of talent is never going to be a problem in that part of the world!

A few months ago I wrote a piece that questioned the role of the coach, especially in relation to John Dyson and the West Indies when they cocked up the Duckworth Lewis formula in that ODI a few months ago.

Last night, against my better instincts (yet again), I stayed up to watch the West Indies chase a challenging 329 target set by England at Edgbaston. I never really expected them to win but I figured that the chase would be short and entertaining with players like Gayle, Bravo, Sarwan, Chanderpaul etc playing like millionaires in pursuit of a 6+ rpo target on a good pitch. After all, commonsense would dictate that they had no choice but to play shots and keep playing shots until the very end. I figured they might be bowled out for 220 in the 35th over, well worth sacrificing a few hours of sleep to watch some dazzling strokeplay.

Wrong. In hindsight, I should have just switched off and gone to bed as soon as Gayle and Sarwan were dismissed early doors. What was subsequently dished up for the next 46 overs was an absolute waste of time (apart from a brief cameo from the admirable Bravo). It showed total contempt for the viewing public. It was an exercise in cynicism to watch a team just bat 50 overs with no genuine intention of trying to win. At a time when the 50 over game is under threat from the T20 mania that is sweeping the game, the West Indies did everything possible to undermine the integrity of international ODI cricket.

More to the point, it made me realise that Dyson probably has no influence on team tactics or has no idea of what it means. I’m not sure who controls the dynamic in the dressing room but whoever it is, Gayle or Dyson, they are clearly out of their depth when it comes to understanding what it takes to try to win a game of cricket. Or they just don’t care. Perhaps both.

Chanderpaul’s innings, after a brisk start, disintegrated into something that almost defied belief. In the context of an asking rate that never got below 6.5 runs per over, his performance was almost like he was making a silent protest at being left to shoulder the batting responsibilities yet again. It’s not like he was trying to smash the ball and kept missing – no, he just went through a 25 over patch when he made no effort to do anything but push singles. It was astounding to watch the required rate climbing whilst Chanderpaul, capable of playing some stunning shots, seemingly oblivious to the game situation. Even Denesh Ramdin who scored at run-a-ball and has a more limited arsenal of strokes was too slow in the context of a run rate that required much more intent than pushing singles.

The final straw for one sleepy, grumpy spectator on a winter’s night in Australia was to keep waiting for the final powerplay in the hope that it would spark some sort of action. My justification for refusing to go to bed was twisted logic: having stayed up this long, I’d be disappointed if old Chanders exploded in the powerplay (as we know he can) and I missed it. So I waited. And waited. And waited.

I’m still struggling to understand Dyson or Gayle’s rationale for delaying the powerplay until the run rate was almost 12 runs per over. Perhaps they had honestly gone beyond caring. It’s been a tough, cold tour and maybe they’ve just lost interest. What other explanation can there be for rational, intelligent people to be blind to the bleeding obvious. What possible reason could there have been for not taking the powerplay earlier when it was a mere 8 runs per over and there was even the faintest hope of changing the momentum of the game?

As it turned out, my 6 year old son heard the television in the lounge room and sleepily crawled into my lap and watched about ten minutes of the game before asking me: “Dad, why haven’t they taken the powerplay yet? Are they really trying to win?”

It took him just ten minutes to figure it out. I wish I’d asked him earlier!

	Andrew McDonald is among the few surprises in an otherwise predictable squad © AFP

For the first time in as long as I can remember, the announcement of the Ashes touring squad has been completely overshadowed in Brisbane by torrential rain, the likes of which the folk in Old Blighty are probably more accustomed to than us tropical folk. The sight of people marooned up creeks without paddles, confined to an indefinite period of loneliness is probably something that Andrew Symonds can relate to. His exclusion owes nothing to Mother Nature but it is still a sobering thought that his Test career may be over. One can only hope that ‘sober’ is a word that is now part of his lifestyle because his talent, though waning with age, is still worth the entrance money.

My initial gut feeling was that this was a squad without any major surprises. Australia have usually sent away at least one ‘bolter’ on most Ashes tours, a young tyro who has been identified as having potential and is picked on instinct rather than numbers. Wayne Holdsworth, Greg Campbell and Dirk Welham rank amongst the under-achievers. Terry Alderman and Michael Slater spring to mind as success stories. I’m not sure if Andrew McDonald really qualifies in that “young tyro” category but his selection might have been one of the more contentious ones in an otherwise predictable squad.

Phillip Hughes would indeed have been on the tour even if he hadn’t already played Test cricket but his instant stardom has ensured there was never any surprise about his passport being stamped. Perhaps Graham Manou might be considered lucky – he is not the youngest wicketkeeper going around Shield cricket but one cannot quibble with it either. Chris Hartley from Queensland staked a late claim with end-of-season runs and Tim Paine was highly regarded but they’ve gone with Manou and fair enough too.

The bowling attack is fascinating. Mitchell Johnson and Peter Siddle picked themselves, Brett Lee was always going to be given every chance to recover and Stuart Clark has always been perceived as an England specialist if he recovered in time. Ben Hilfenhaus is the player I’m excited about. If the conditions are anything like we’ve seen in the recent Tests against the Windies, he will be a handful, swinging the ball at +140 kph. The question is: will he make the first XI?

Watson’s ability to bowl will be a crucial aspect to the balance of the attack. If he can bat in the top 6 and bowl at full pace, that’s akin to having a Kallis-type player in your team (I’m not suggesting he is close to matching Kallis’ fantastic career stats but there are similarities). That will mean Haddin can bat at 7 and four specialist bowlers can sit behind him, making up a pretty useful seam attack if you can also get some overs out of Marcus North (if he plays). Watson’s bowling will crucially allow Australia to always play a spinner (Hauritz or North) and still have the luxury of 4 seamers. Throw McDonald into the mix and the batting becomes very long indeed with Johnson’s lusty hitting too. McDonald’s Derek Pringle style bowling may be quite a bonus in England you know.

The batting order virtually picks itself doesn’t it? The big assumption of course is that they will all fire at various stages throughout the series. No one in that top order is seriously under threat for the first few Tests you wouldn’t imagine. Australia has the usual plethora of left-handers which may nullify some of Anderson’s outswing but he showed that the inswinger can also be a dangerous weapon against the lefties. Gayle and Chanderpaul are not insignificant scalps.

Overall, a balanced squad without any major omissions or surprise inclusions. Doug Bollinger may feel a tad disappointed but who would you leave out? He’s already had enough of sitting on the sidelines so perhaps he is better off playing some cricket or having a break and waiting for his next opportunity. And one cannot help but wonder what more Brad Hodge has to do? Emigrate perhaps?

Watson is probably the only player for whom this is a make or break tour. Another significant injury and he may well cook his own goose. The Australian public recognise his talent but they are almost expecting him to break down. Michael Clarke’s back injury is probably the other major long-term concern but he may get away with not having to do much bowling.

Well, if Australia are expecting to do much pre-tour work at the Centre of Excellence in Brisbane, they may be better leaving for England immediately. Who would have thought it’d be drier over there? They’ll be practicing on slightly damp pitches over here for a few weeks yet!

It’s clear that Cricket Australia viewed him as a risky proposition and have therefore left him off their contract list. He’s not long returned to the game after battling a bout of depression/anxiety/battle fatigue, call it whatever.

His return from that mental injury did not stop him from breaking down with more physical ones. Unable to sustain his pace for more than a few overs, Australia’s selectors obviously felt they cannot afford the luxury of a fast bowler who can’t bat and is ponderous in the field. Perhaps when Warne, McGrath and Gillespie were in their prime, they could have contemplated a high-risk match winner but those halcyon days are long gone. They now need 11 fit players, each of them operating at full throttle. That’s what happens when you’re back with the rest of the pack. Like the global economy, this is a time for consolidation rather than speculation. Fair enough. Even Tait wouldn't argue with that logic I'm sure.

I can’t help but feel for the poor chap though. Denied the chance to play in the IPL because he was supposedly being rested for national duties, he is then informed that his contract will not be renewed. What exactly was he being saved for?

Surely the selectors must have known their own minds a few weeks ago. What has happened in the last few weeks in the physiotherapy room to suddenly make them realise that he was not going to make the cut? It’s hardly like he’s played a few games of cricket, bowled poorly and cooked his own goose. Has he turned up late for his massage sessions or something? If they honestly felt that he was probably going to miss out on the next contract list, why on earth did they deny him a chance to earn his living in the IPL and find his form again? It would be upto his IPL coach to decide whether to pick him or not.

Tait can have no complaints about missing out on a contract. His stuttering performances in the ODI’s last summer were not those of a player who deserved to play for his country. Anyone who has to be nursed through a ten over stint in four spells is clearly not much use in the modern game. But he is entitled to be aggrieved about a basic lack of transparency when it comes to the selector's long-term intentions. At best, it smacks of poor planning. At worst, it’s just plain unkind.

On his day, at the top of his game (which admittedly has not been all that often!), his unusual action and blistering pace is good for the game. A breath of fresh air for a game that has precious few old-fashioned characters. The game owes him nothing except perhaps a dash of honesty. That’s all he’d ask for I’m sure.

	"Sorry, Catfish, but you're more use to us!" © Getty Images

So Cricket Australia has pulled Nathan Bracken, James Hopes and Shane Watson out of the IPL in order to manage their niggling injuries. It may well be the right thing for the country and all three players have the maturity and commonsense to not bleat too loudly (yet). As fringe players, they understand that their brand value is enhanced by playing international cricket.

It begs the inevitable question though: at what point will we begin to see the first cracks opening up between players and their home countries' boards? It’s unlikely that India will ever have to face this problem because the IPL is their very own cash cow. Other countries though, despite overtly supporting the BCCI’s money-spinner (if indeed it does make money which I suppose it does), might soon find themselves in a situation where they are at odds with their players if they exercise their right to withdraw them from IPL commitments.

One could argue that the first cracks have already opened but have been hastily papered over. Sri Lanka have been forced to bow to player pressure and accede to the superior pulling power of the IPL. The West Indian administrators have an uneasy truce with the whole concept, conscious that their main stars can afford to call their bluff because their depth does not allow for players like Gayle, Chanderpaul, Sarwan and Bravo to be left out of the national team if they are forced to choose cash over country.

On an individual basis, Shaun Tait has already expressed his displeasure over not being cleared to play in the IPL. Tait doesn’t quite have enough aces in his hand to call the shots so he is forced to accept that decision for the time being. Now with the latest situation involving Bracken, Hopes and Watson, the murmurs of discontent will eventually rise to a deafening crescendo sometime in the future. It’s a bold prediction but I can see it happening soon enough.

It’s clear that when it comes to making quick money, the players obviously have a different set of priorities to the national selectors. These three players are not silly enough to cruel their international cricket prospects just yet so they will reluctantly accept the verdict from Cricket Australia. There will come a day though when a player will strongly disagree with the need for rehabilitation or rest and will challenge that sort of edict. Depending on seniority and his own sense of whether he can afford to roar his displeasure, that situation may become quite heated.

It might even prematurely push some players into retirement so they can then be freed from all trade restrictions on their IPL contracts. The performances of Warne, Gilchrist and Hayden prove that being retired from international cricket does not mean you can’t cut it in IPL. If anything, they are fresher and stronger. The franchise owners themselves may be tempted to offer incentives to hasten early retirement. Why wouldn’t they? They have little to gain from big names like Gilchrist or Hayden being lost to national duty. Golden handshakes may become more common.

It will create a situation where injuries or workload concerns are pushed underground, where players don’t always confide in their national team’s medical staff about niggling injuries or exhaustion. From their perspective, it might be easier to mask the symptoms and try to hobble through the IPL. In cases like the Flintoff example, there may one day be post-mortems and blame games which put the physiotherapist and team doctor under pressure for not spotting the signs of injury. Perhaps that close, confidential bond that currently exists between players and medical staff will suffer. If in doubt, the medicos might be instructed to err on the side of caution and that will infuriate players who honestly don’t think they’re injured.

What about medical staff in IPL teams? Will they be under subtle pressure to underplay an injury (especially stress fractures or 'wear & tear' injuries) to nurse someone through a few T20 games? Their loyalty is to their IPL team, not the national team so what's wrong with patching somebody up to get through a short tournament. Medical opinions can differ - I can see some interesting conversations between doctors and physio's from opposite sides of the fence. "When did you know he was injured, how bad was it, why didn't you rest him earlier?"

Agents too will play their part in muddying the waters. Presumably, their commissions depend on the IPL contracts being honoured so they will be exerting their influence on the player to ensure he plays IPL. Do they have a duty to their client (the player), the national team or to themselves? In most cases, I can’t see the country’s interest coming first!

What happens in situations where the home states (eg: NSW) can see some benefit in denying the IPL team the use of their player, hoping that if that team does not make the Champions League stage, he is then available for their home state/provincial team? With that much money at stake, they have every good reason to want their star player wrapped in cotton wool and save him from injury. If that means his IPL team doesn’t qualify, gosh, wouldn’t that be convenient?

The thing about conspiracy theories is that they don’t always have to be true to create bad blood or mistrust. Trust is often the first casualty when relationships sour. Players, doctors, administrators, franchise owners, television moguls and fans are all stakeholders in this relationship one way or another. The best Powerplays may yet happen off the field and on the physio’s table!

The first time I began to understand the true significance of the term ‘momentum shift’ in cricket was the 1992 World Cup when Imran Khan used it to devastating effect. He picked the moment when he felt his ‘cornered tigers’ were ready to attack and set them loose. The sudden shift in gears when Inzamam and Imran were batting and his decision to unleash Wasim Akram at crucial times underscored his total mastery of the art of sensing momentum swings and then exploiting it with sudden, brutal aggression. It was great theatre.

What’s happened to Pakistan recently then? They seem to have lost that legacy that Imran handed down to them in the early 1990s.

To be fair, it is more an art than a science, difficult to measure or describe. It is probably a gut instinct but it’s certainly something that cricket has now tried to turn into a science. The most successful captains in recent times are the ones who sense these game-changing periods in the wind and can then execute a daring attack that is difficult to counter. Once momentum starts to shift, a game can change forever in a few short overs of mayhem.

The mighty West Indian teams rarely had to worry about momentum shifts – it was usually just one-way traffic with chin music playing in the background. The only way some countries occasionally beat them was to pick a rare moment to try and swing the game violently away. India famously did this in the 1983 World Cup Final, Australia did it to Richie Richardson’s team in the 1996 World Cup semi-final and England did it in front of a packed house at Lords in 2000 when Caddick and Gough bowled like West Indians themselves!

Pakistanis seem to have an instinct for this art form to suddenly transform a game that appears to be meandering along. Their tour of England in 1992 was famous for searing yorkers and late-afternoon collapses engineered by Akram, Waqar Younis and Aaqib Javed. It was masterful captaincy and high quality bowling but the secret was in the timing of the assault.

In this latest series against Australia, it seems to be an instinct that has deserted Pakistan. Watching the 4th ODI from Abu Dhabi, I suspect that had Imran been captain, the game plan would have evolved differently. Last night’s tactics were reactive, defensive and utterly lacking in that sixth sense or intuition that tells great captains when to pounce. The innings was crawling along at about 3.5 rpo in the 33rd over when Afridi came to the crease. He was immediately off to a good start with the Shoaib Malik well set at the other end. It was the perfect moment to take the batting powerplay and change the momentum of the game. Against the new ball on a slow deck, Afridi’s hitting power was probably the only thing that would have changed the direction of the game at that point. Pakistan needed a moment of inspiration but it never came.

Instead, Pakistan chose to keep delaying the PP until first Malik and then Akmal were dismissed, followed by a long period of stagnation when Arafat got stuck at the start of his innings. By the time they eventually took the PP in the 43rd over, that moment had come and gone. Half an hour earlier, the game was ready for that momentum shift but in the end, Afridi holed out in the second PP over and they finished with roughly twenty five runs and two wickets to show for it. We’ll never know what could have been but it’s safe to assume that two for twenty was not part of the perfect blueprint. Not even close!

Watching the innings unfold, I kept shouting at the television, willing Pakistan to break the game wide open while there was still some life in the batting order. It may not have worked but it was worth a try. Afridi is always likely to do something extravagant anyway, even with fielders in the deep so it just made no sense to deny him every chance of inspiring that momentum shift. The longer they waited, the more likely it was that he might be out before he could use the full five overs. In the end that’s exactly what happened.

Even the earlier games had similar moments of indecision. Hopes and Hilfenhaus were allowed to recover in Game 1 when the spinners were taken off with one wicket to get. In Game 3, they delayed the PP so long that they ended up being bowled out halfway through it. Perhaps, even this skill suffers from a lack of practice. One should not forget that Pakistan have played precious little cricket recently.

With someone like Afridi in your team, it’s almost criminal to waste his explosiveness. Some situations demand a momentum shift strategy and this was Pakistan's window of opportunity. What would Imran's cornered tigers have done in the same situation I wonder? They won a World Cup, no less, feeding on smaller scraps of inspiration.

As a general comment, without the benefit of statistics or specific team strategies, I’d have to say that I think the Batting Powerplay has often been more of a negative than a positive to most teams. I didn’t really watch the recent ODI series’ in West Indies and NZ so I can’t comment on them but in games involving Australia, it seems to me that most captains have yet to learn how to best use their Powerplay.

South Africa have used it to best effect thus far, mainly because they have managed to keep wickets in hand and therefore been able to use Albie Morkel’s clean hitting (and to a lesser extent Duminy and Boucher).

Australia have rarely benefited from it and Pakistan too seem uncertain of the tactics involved in using it for maximum impact. Too often, it is left too late and the teams are almost forced to take the powerplay when their No 9 batsman is at the crease, caught between trying to bat out the full 50 overs and capitalising on the Powerplay.

Too often, batsmen have played a little bit too conservatively leading into the Powerplay and then promptly got out in the first two overs, therefore wasting the very prize they had been waiting for. Perhaps it’s because middle order batsmen are not accustomed to batting in traditional Powerplay situations – they are more adept at finding gaps and working the ball around until the final slog is on.

I think batting captains are taking the Powerplay too late in the innings. Most captains try to take it around the 40th over but too often, wickets are falling and teams are torn between consolidating with new batsmen arriving at the crease or taking risks in the Powerplay which can turn a mini-collapse into a terminal tailspin. In that sense, the Powerplay almost acts like a trap – you feel obliged to walk into it even though you know it could cost you an arm and a leg!

Take Pakistan for example – I think they got their tactics horribly wrong last night chasing a modest 198. From 0/90, needing less than 4 rpo to cruise to victory, they finished up needing about 7 rpo when their final wicket fell. How in the world did they allow that to happen? They ended up not even using up all of their Powerplay which is almost criminal in its negligence. They simply left it too late. They should have taken it as soon as Afridi came to the crease. Why? Because he doesn’t really change his game whether the field is in or out anyway so you might as well give him every chance of succeeding with the Powerplay. It’s not like Afridi is going to be patient enough to wait for the Powerplay so why waste his hitting power?

Another reason why I think the Powerplay is wasted in the last few overs is because that’s a period of the game when teams score quickly anyway. More often than not, most teams press the accelerator pedal in the last 10 overs so the scoring rate tends to scoot along, regardless of field placements. With short boundaries and powerful cricket bats, batsmen have no trouble clearing boundaries, often hitting the ball way back into the stands. It wouldn’t have mattered if there was a fielder on the fence or not. This tends to happen naturally in the slog overs so why waste the Powerplay when batsmen will clear the ropes with or without field restrictions?

It is a new innovation so we need to allow captains and coaches time to figure it out I suppose. My guess is that we’ll start to see teams employing the batting Powerplay a bit earlier in the innings, perhaps with the new ball that is taken in the 35th over. If the innings gets off to a rollicking start, it would make perfect sense to take it in the 15th over because that effectively forces the fielding captain to change his bowling rota. On pitches that don’t help spinners, he might be forced to bowl out one of his quicks in those consecutive Powerplays which then leaves him massively exposed in the death overs when his lesser bowlers may have to close out the innings. At that point, the batting side may not even need a Powerplay to score heavily against the fifth bowler or a spinner.

It’s fascinating to watch evolution unfold in front of our very eyes. It’s like watching naughty schoolboys in the chemistry lab – nervously mixing a bit of this and a bit of that and then watching anxiously to see what happens. My prediction for the future is that fewer teams will take their batting Powerplays so late in the innings. A bit like the global financial crisis, artificial stimulus packages will take the form of early intervention.

Having stayed up all night to watch the final episode of a long mini-series that spanned five months, it was fitting that the final ODI in Johannesburg stuck to the overall script. A see-saw battle, two evenly matched teams, constant momentum shifts and well-set batsman giving their wicket away to trigger mini-collapses.

It was pretty much the tale of the summer. The Tests finished deadlocked at three apiece whilst SA were clearly the better ODI team but of the 20 games these sides played against each other since December (Tests, ODI and T20), nearly all of them had a similar script. It was characterised by batsmen who threw away good starts and precipitated momentum shifts that ultimately swung games. Ironically, it was also a period where the most unlikely batsmen also changed the entire course of a game with some stunning hitting. Duminy, Steyn, De Villiers and Albie Morkel featured for South Africa. Johnson and Hughes stood out for Australia in that regard.

For Australia, I suspect these last few months have raised some questions that have no immediate answers. On the positive side, it looks like the search for Hayden’s replacement is over, the fearless Hughes nailing that door shut behind him. Johnson is on the cusp of becoming a genuine Test all-rounder (although surprisingly, his batting in ODI cricket is abject) and Haddin seems to have finally settled into the void left by Gilchrist. With Lee and Stuart Clarke still to return, there’s plenty of blue sky in that respect.

On the other hand, some things are still as clear as mud. Australia’s ODI game plan is the first thing that comes to mind. Most of the summer, even against NZ, they were tactically outplayed. The batting powerplay rarely worked and the middle period of their innings, batting and bowling, was consistently the period when SA (and NZ) took the game away from Australia. Their poor batting against Botha, van der Merve and Vettori in those middle overs must be a worrying sign for when they come up against even better spinners in spin-friendly conditions. Their bowling, for so long controlled in that crucial 15-40 over stage through the likes of Warne, Hogg, Symonds etc, looked utterly impotent this season. Both SA and NZ plundered at will, setting themselves up for their powerplay whereas Australia kept losing wickets to the spinners and delaying the powerplay until it had to be taken with the tail. This issue with the powerplay is one area that Australia cannot afford to keep messing up, such is the game-changing impact it has on the modern game.

To make matters worse, Ponting is no longer the all-conquering player he once was. His pedigree or greatness cannot be doubted but hard hands, playing in front of his body against Botha and chipping to midwicket or back to the bowler was an all-too-common sight during the ODI’s. It is a measure of how much Australia relies on him that their worst recent period in recent ODI's has coincided with his form slump in coloured clothing. Michael Hussey too now knows what it’s like to be back with the mere mortals and he may well find that his sibling rivalry is over for the time being. Despite numerous chances, David Hussey may just be one step out of his depth at this level. His unusual technique, lacking in footwork and relying on fast hands may not suit the higher demands of international cricket whilst his modest off-spin was dismissed over midwicket by most good batsmen.

Australia could justifiably argue of course that they were slightly the better team in Test cricket but that argument would need to be based on the theory that they were on top for 5 of the 6 Tests and if not for some stunning comebacks engineered by De Villiers, Duminy, Steyn and others, the Tests could have finished at 5-1. The reality though is that SA not only retrieved perilous situations but counter-attacked with enough force to go on and win these games. I think the final result in all three forms of the game probably tells the true story. One team is going through a rebuilding phase and looking for new talent whilst the other team is possibly nearing the top of their game with a few players like De Villiers, Steyn, Duminy and Botha very much at the zenith of their form and talent. Kallis’ consistency was a major rock for the Africans to lean on but the big scores never really materialised, often caught in the slips or gully, driving away from his body when he looked totally at ease.

The last game at the Wanderers was typical of the entire season really. One team storms out of the blocks, the other team doesn’t just peg them back, they actually emerge as comfortable favourites before yet another twist wrenches the game violently back in the other direction. Watching the game through bleary eyes at 4 am, willing myself to stay awake, the only thing I could confidently predict was that it would be unpredictable. And so it came to pass....

Wouldn’t it be good to see a three-cornered contest next summer with India, South Africa and Australia all playing each other at home and away in all forms of the game? My gut feeling is that India’s overall balance will probably see them finish on top, based on current form. They seem to have a squad that can cover all conditions with a deft mix of power, experience, youth and hunger. It's a close-run thing though - what do you reckon?

Australian cricket, even at the lowest levels, has always prided itself on team spirit. Regardless of personal differences, Australian cricket is famous for a fierce loyalty towards the captain and the notion that the team always comes first. I’ve seen it first-hand and cannot think of a time when any team I played for/against did not show this admirable trait. As a nation, we’ve even built an Anzac legend around this notion of mateship and unswerving loyalty.

I’ve just started reading 'Golden Boy' by Christian Ryan, a re-telling of the Kim Hughes era. The author describes it as “unairbrushed tale of Australian cricket in the Hughes mini-era” and it certainly lives up to that billing! I’ve rarely enjoyed a cricket book as much as this one, perhaps because I remember that period with great clarity and perhaps, because it destroys so many myths I had of that great ‘team spirit’ ethic in Australian cricket.

The fact that it is unauthorised is what makes it so interesting. No hidden agenda and no favourites – he just tells the story as seen through the eyes of all the players, administrators and media of that period. There’s an overall consistency to it that gives it authenticity. Too many people are singing from the same hymn sheet for the author to be too far off the truth.

What astounded me most was the complete lack of support afforded to Hughes from the Dennis Lillee/ Rod Marsh camp. I knew they were never best mates but to read of the open dissension and undermining of Hughes’ captaincy was an eye-opener. It went against everything that Australian cricket teams were meant to embody and it also made a mockery of the very public reputations of Lillee and Marsh as the ultimate team players. They may well have been that under the Chappells’ captaincy but readers are left with no doubt that both Lillee and Marsh did not remotely extend that courtesy to Hughes.

The 1981 Ashes Tour, affectionately referred to as Botham’s Ashes, was when it all came to a head. All those interviewed, including England players, were utterly clear in their memories that both Lillee and Marsh undermined the captain to the extent that there was almost a sense of delighting in his failure. It did not even appear to be a secret – it was just open dissent and there was a general admission that Hughes, despite his own faults, was left isolated and with no realistic chance of success. Lillee repeatedly tried to decapitate Hughes in the nets, a practice that astounded team-mates but rarely fazed Hughes apparently.

On reading this, my view of Marsh especially has undergone a major transformation. On and off the field, his contempt for Hughes is crystal clear. For example, he berated Hughes for hooking down fine leg’s throat at Edgbaston when Australia choked on a small chase. “Christ, a captain is supposed to lead by example” he said, conveniently forgetting his own hook shot dismissal in the famous collapse at Headingley in the previous Test (Willis’ 8/43) and then missing an ugly swipe across the line, just forty minutes before making that comment about the captain. That sort of hypocrisy was not lost on the rest of the team and one gets the impression that both Lillee and Marsh, still revered amongst The Greats, did their reputation no favours on that fateful Ashes Tour. In fact, it is testament to their greatness that their reputations were able to survive such a poisonous episode.

Mike Whitney tells a poignant story about dismissing Botham in his debut Test at Old Trafford, caught by Marsh and then being bemused when the ‘keeper did not even congratulate him, seen instead with a frown on his face as if secretly disappointed that Botham was out. Whitney admitted to being completely dumbfounded by this incident and it was a common tale of an unhappy team, completely opposite to just about every other Australian touring team I’ve read about.

I'm only halfway through the book but even though I haven't seen any reference to Shane Warne, it gave me a new insight into his personality. Despite his obvious disappointments, Warne was unfailingly loyal to Taylor, Waugh and Ponting (briefly to Gilchrist too). It made me realise that Warne’s contribution to the team was much more than his brilliant bowling. He was the sort of team man that Australian cricket’s legend is built around.

Of course, loyalty to the captain is not a uniquely Australian trait. Imran Khan and Arjuna Ranatunga famously harnessed this spirit in winning World Cups. The West Indies were magnificently united under Clive Lloyd and Viv Richards. Stephen Fleming brought out the best in modest NZ sides he captained, Saurav Ganguly was credited with similar support during his reign and MS Dhoni appears to have that same quality, despite the presence of senior players like Tendulkar, Ganguly, Dravid and Laxman in his team. In terms of seniority and legend status, they are no different really to the Lillee/Marsh dynasty that crippled Hughes.

Halfway through the book and loving it…..what has surprised me most thus far is that this short period of disquiet went against everything I’ve seen in dressing rooms in Australia, even in club cricket. Loyal to a fault, Australian cricketing culture is built around 100% support for the captain. It is something I admire enormously. It was just this period from the start of the Packer circus in 1977 to that famous Ashes series in 1981 when a nation seemingly betrayed itself.

Integrity? Does it have any place in the modern game? Given the big money stakes and winner-take-all mentality that now pervades professional sport, including cricket, can we rely on outdated notions of integrity and honesty to guide the game? Is it fair on the players/coaches to burden them with this responsibility when they are judged (and employed) purely on the basis of their win/lose ratios?

Should we now accept that all decisions be left to umpires and officials, thereby relieving players of the tensions that seem to be dogging the game when it comes to walking, low catches, excessive appealing or bad light? Many of the recent cases involving bad blood between players or officials can be traced back to some on-field incident where someone’s integrity was questioned. Remove that onus on the players, coaches or managers and hand it all over to the umpires and the match referee. Will that result in a change of atmosphere where decisions are accepted in good grace and players are not looking accusingly at each other.

Think back to last week’s ODI in the West Indies when John Dyson made the wrong call on D/L calculations and (arguably) cost West Indies the game. It boiled down to a simple integrity test that should no longer be in the hands of the players or coaches. It’s clear that bad light is now a strategic tool that is cynically employed to win matches (or avoid losing). It’s no longer about the physical danger to the combatants – last week’s incident proved that teams will accept the bad light offer if it suits them and yet will happily continue batting in that same light if it does not suit them to come off. That’s just the way the game’s going right now – it’s about the bottom line. Winning or losing.

This bad light situation is not just a function of cricket at the top level. Even in Z Grade club cricket, it is rarely ever used as an escape from physical danger. As far as I understand it, light should only be offered when players are in physical danger so why do so many cricketers (including yours truly) treat is as a cynical clause to avoid losing a wicket, dropping a catch or winning/losing/drawing a game? Easy answer? Because we can. It's got nothing to do with physical danger.

Why not just leave it purely in the hands of the umpires to decide when to come off for bad light, irrespective of which team is in front. Are there any other professional sports that leave similar decisions to the players? If we accept that umpires are neutral, then their decision should be accepted with equanimity. If we can’t agree that umpires are neutral, then we’ve got bigger problems.

Likewise with contentious catches and the issue of walking: it’s clear that integrity is not something that can be used as a moral weapon any more. Different players have different codes they stick by. Some players change their own codes depending on the match situation or current form. Some players are known for walking but see no moral contradiction about appealing for catches that are clearly not out. So again, why not take it out of their hands and just leave it to the umpires to adjudicate?

Of course this depends on the players having the maturity to then accept good and bad decisions with relatively few histrionics. Sure, there will always need to be some allowances made for that instinctive flash of disappointment at a poor decision but if the tantrums are prolonged and meant for public consumption, harsh penalties (suspensions) will soon create a culture of respect and good grace.

The referral system accentuates the need for this cultural shift. It further encourages players to stand their ground and see if the third umpire reprieves them, even when they know the truth. Even in rugby codes, players who have clearly dropped the ball over the line, celebrate with their team-mates and hope that the video referee doesn’t spot the indiscretion. It’s cynical but it’s also their profession – why should we expect integrity from professional athletes when their employers and the business world at large are not held to those standards?

Earlier this week, IPL officials and the CEO of Cricket South Africa denied outright that there had been any discussions about the IPL being moved from India. Their indignant denials almost made me feel guilty for daring to believe those crooked journalists. A few days later, the deal is done and no hint of shame from these very same officials who claimed that no such conversations had ever taken place. Clearly, the IPL is not an acronym for Integrity Premier League.

I’m sure the umpires will groan inwardly at yet another responsibility being foisted on them but ultimately, as sport becomes a business and athletes become businessmen, umpires should be the only ones empowered to regulate this market. It is a market governed by the forces of win or loss, and sadly, all too sadly, we may have to accept that cricket will no longer be a canvas for nobler sentiments.

Was it ever thus? Perhaps it is nothing new.

	What exactly is the role of a head coach © AFP

On the subject of waste, I have often wondered what role the coach actually plays at this level of the game. What is his role? Is it to literally “coach” the players in the skills of the game, is it to help with slips catching and fielding drills or is it as tactician/strategist/statistician? John Dyson’s confused actions in last night’s farce begs the question: Was it Dyson’s fault and what exactly is his role?

I have long wondered what value a coach brings to a team at this level of the game. I can see why an individual coach who knows the player well can make little changes to that player’s technique and performance (eg: Gilchrist and the famous squash ball example in the WC Final of 2007). Whether a team coach can honestly help players of this calibre to improve technical aspects of their game is a moot point. In 25 years of senior cricket, I have yet to come across a coach who has made any significant difference to a player’s skills or technique in a team environment. Personalised, one-on-one coaching is a different matter altogether – I’ve seen that relationship work quite well.

To confuse the argument even further, teams at this level have specialist batting, bowling, fielding and fitness coaches. So what does the Head Coach really do then?

Perhaps he is not a ‘coach’ at all in that sense of the word. Perhaps his role is to analyse opposition strengths and weaknesses and to offer strategic or tactical direction. In which case, he is not a coach at all – he is more like the Manager of a football team. Except for the fact that in cricket, the coach doesn’t usually have a direct role in selections and usually leaves tactical decisions to the captain once the game begins. So, by that definition, he is not really a Manager either.

Perhaps he is a psychologist, counsellor and personal confidante to the players. In which case, what are his qualifications for that role? Do you need high-level coaching qualifications to perform this role or are you better off with expertise in other areas?

Judging by Dyson’s miscalculations today, he is certainly no statistician or mathematician. I’m sure he would claim no expertise in this area so why was he then left with the responsibility of making those decisions? Is that the coach’s job, to read complicated Duckworth-Lewis tables and then pull the strings accordingly? If so, why bother with cricket coaching qualifications? Hire a boffin instead!

I’m with Shane Warne on this issue – I’m not convinced that the coach has any significant role to play in teams at this level of the game. If they need other specialists around them, how do they justify their job? Are they merely managers of that human resource environment (in which case, hire HR experts)?

Warne apparently had an instinctive genius for reading the play on the field and cricket has always held a special place for the role of the captain (or other senior players) acting on those instincts on the field. Unlike many football codes which virtually rely on the coach or manager to run game strategy and selection, cricket’s charm lies in the tradition of the captain making those decisions with minimum interference from outsiders. It’s part of the game’s unique character.

This essay is about exploring the role of the Head Coach of a national team and trying to pinpoint exactly what role he is meant to play. There’s no definitive answer I suppose, just a matter of opinion, based on personal experiences. I’m in the Shane Warne camp - those who believe that a coach (at this level) is something that transports you from the hotel to the ground. Right now, Dyson must be wishing that he was the driver of that coach instead of being the person who had to interpret the D/L charts and then decide if the light was really that bad or not.

If Dyson realised that his team was behind the run rate, you can bet he would have thought the light was still good. Perhaps it should be left purely to the umpires to make that decision. Left to coaches or players, it appears that the definition of bad light depends on where your team is in relation to D/L. That sort of cynicism has no place in this great game - either the light was good enough or bad enough but the definition should not rely on whether you're ahead of the rate or not.

My recent post on left-hand opening batsmen received plenty of intelligent feedback. Someone posed the question about whether left or right-hand openers were statistically more successful and it got me thinking.

Before I embarked on a long and painful date with Statsguru, my initial gut instinct was that the lefthanders would have better numbers. Let’s see what the results show.

I picked recent opening batsmen from each country (excluding Bangladesh and Zimbabwe) and the minimum qualification was approximately 10 Tests. The selection of these batsmen relied upon my imperfect memory so please forgive me for any significant errors. I’ve stuck to just Test matches because I don’t have the resources to trawl through ODI history too.

I also concede that some of these batsmen did not spend their entire careers as openers so their final averages may not tell the full story about exactly how many runs they scored at the top of the order. Nonetheless, I’m sure it will give us some answers to the question.

AUSTRALIA (Average, home, away)
Matthew Hayden: 51, 58, 42
Phil Jacques: 47, 49, 44
Justin Langer: 45, 49, 42
Michael Slater: 43, 53, 35
*Simon Katich: 52, 48, 49
*(Katich’s averages since he opened the batting in 2008)

ENGLAND (Average, home, away)
Andrew Strauss: 44, 41, 48
Alastair Cook: 44, 47, 41
Marcus Trescothick: 44, 51, 36
Michael Vaughan: 41, 46, 37
Michael Atherton: 38, 39, 36

WEST INDIES (Average, home, away)
Chris Gayle: 40, 38, 42
Devon Smith: 25, 28, 19
Daren Ganga: 26, 33, 23
Wavell Hinds: 33, 38, 28
Sherwin Campbell: 32, 30, 35

SOUTH AFRICA (Average, home, away)
Graeme Smith: 50, 44, 56
Neil McKenzie: 38, 39, 38
Gary Kirsten: 45, 42, 48
Herschelle Gibbs: 42, 41, 43

INDIA (Average, home, away)
Virender Sehwag: 51, 51, 51
Gautam Gambhir: 49, 44, 63
Wasim Jaffer: 34, 38, 32
Navjot Sidhu: 42, 54, 34

NEW ZEALAND (Average, home, away)
Stephen Fleming: 40, 34, 46
Craig Cumming: 26, 25, 34
Mark Richardson: 45, 48, 43
Jamie How: 23, 24, 22
Lou Vincent: 34, 28, 43

SRI LANKA (Average, home, away)
Sanath Jayasuriya: 40, 44, 36
Upul Tharanga: 29, 14, 38
Michael Vandort: 37, 44, 30
Marvan Atapattu: 39, 39, 40
Malinda Warnapura: 45, 54, 39

PAKISTAN (Average, home, away)
Salman Butt: 29, 34, 25
Saeed Anwar: 46, 46, 45
Aamir Sohail: 35, 37, 34
Imran Nazir: 33, 46, 36
Taufeeq Umar: 39, 43, 45

The right-hand batsmen are listed in italics to differentiate them from their southpaw colleagues.

Just about every country, with the exception of India (Sehwag) and Sri Lanka (Atapattu) show us that left-hand batsmen do indeed average more than their right-hand counterparts in the last 10 years or so. Mind you, Sehwag and Atapattu don’t average much more than the next best left-hand batsman so the difference is hardly significant.

No surprises that most opening batsmen, left or right, tend to average more at home than away. Gambhir, Fleming, Vincent, Tharanga and Graeme Smith are players whose away averages are significantly better than their home records. Revealingly, just about every South African opener tends to average less on home pitches which may suggest that their country is a tough place to negotiate the new ball menace. This recent Cricinfo analysis by S Rajesh seems to bear that out.

The fact that there are proportionately more left-hand opening batsmen in the game tells its own story even though they are hugely outnumbered in sheer volume (ie: there are much fewer lefties in overall terms). Based on averages and total numbers, left-hand batsmen look more likely to succeed and therefore more likely to be selected to play more Tests. Survival of the fittest? Natural selection theory?

We’ve already dissected the reasons why we think lefties are more successful against the new ball. The most common theory put forward by our bloggers was that the majority of bowlers are right-arm trying to bowl outswing and this makes it easier for the lefties to work them through the leg side, especially with the lbw decisions being in their favour. It makes sense of course. How else can we explain why there seem to be so many left-hand openers and why they tend to average more than right-hand batsmen?

It will be fascinating to compare the averages of all batsmen, not just opening batsmen. Will that tell us a different story? Do right-handers come into their own in the middle order? If so, that might tell us that the new ball factor is a major reason why left-handers go so well at the top of the order.

Mind you, I haven’t got the patience to run those numbers past Statsguru. That’s an argument which will have to be left unanswered…..

The question is: why were they rusty and is that acceptable in modern sport? They are professional athletes and this is their chosen, highly-paid profession. It is their professional responsibility to turn up to work ready to perform at their best (barring illness, injury or bad luck).

Imagine if a surgeon was operating on you and said "well, I've been on sabbatical for a few weeks so I'm feeling a bit rusty. Haven't really kept up with the latest surgical techniques. Hope you don't mind".

Or a pilot announcing on the intercom "Ladies and gentlemen, please fasten your seat belts as we approach the runway. I've been using the autopilot for a few months now so haven't really practised my own landings and am feeling a bit rusty so please forgive me if we don't quite make this landing".

Jokes aside, the point I'm trying to make is that professional athletes now have an obligation to prepare themselves so that this "rustiness" should never happen again. It's not like they live tough lives, working down coal mines or breaking rocks in the hot sun. On one hand they keep talking about fatigue and workload and the need for plenty of rest. They cite the fact that it's not just the playing days but also the arduous training regime they follow which justifies their incessant calls for more rest time by the beach (despite the fact that they work a lot less days per year than the average salaried worker).

Fair enough but if that's the case, make sure you do enough work in the nets to ensure there's no rustiness when the time comes for you to perform on the big day. Like any other employee turning up to work, you should be ready to perform at your optimum. Have your holidays and rest time if you like but make sure you prepare yourself to be 100% tuned by the time your working day begins.

It's like those bowlers who waste the first few overs of a game "easing into their work" or warming up. Why didn't they do that before the game started? Those first few balls are when they are most likely to get the batsman out. With all the support staff around them, they should treat their profession like any other job and be ready to work at maximum efficiency from the first ball. We wouldn't accept a poor quality meal from a restaurant just because this was first meal of the night and the chef hadn't quite got into his stride.

It's hardly the crime of the century but it really amuses me when professional athletes (not just cricketers) keep justifying their earnings by claiming to be highly-tuned professionals but then act like casual amateurs. If it's a job, treat it like one and be ready to fire at the start of the shift.

In fairness to Steyn though, he didn't really hide behind any mystery illness or lame excuse. He just admitted that they probably weren't quite as prepared as they should have been for one of the biggest Tests of their careers. His old-fashioned honesty and the way he plays the game makes him very hard to dislike. From the outside looking in, he seems like a helluva nice bloke, albeit a tad rusty.

	Phillip Hughes is the latest in a long line of left-hand openers for Australia © Getty Images

What is it about Australia's love affair with left-hand opening batsmen? Phillip Hughes is about to join that list in Johannesburg tomorrow. It makes me wonder if there is some sort of natural advantage in being a left-hander against the new ball. The proportion of left-handers who open the batting seems to be much higher than the total numbers of batsmen who make up the rest of the batting order. Is this some sort of Darwinian ‘natural selection’ at work, where left-handed opening batsmen seem to have evolved to have an advantage over right-handers?

Australia have a particularly rich heritage when it comes to left-handers at the top of the order. In recent times, I can think of Hayden, Langer, Jaques, Rogers, Katich, Gilchrist, Shaun Marsh and Warner. Going back a few years, we had Wessels, Wood, Wayne Phillips (the keeper), Mark Taylor and Elliott. I can only think of Slater, Geoff Marsh, Boon and Mark Waugh (in ODIs) who were regular right-hand openers. Just about every first-class team in Australia is top-heavy with lefties. Can it be pure coincidence or is there a theory worth exploring?

It can’t just be attributed to Australian-style pitches because around the world, left-handers still take up a high proportion of opening slots (relative to their total representation in the game). Sri Lanka has Jayasuriya, Tharanga, Vandort and Warnapura. Their latest opener, Paranavitana is also a left-hander but he must be wondering if there are any ‘advantages’ after he was dismissed for a first-ball duck on debut!

England have two of them at the top of the order now, Strauss and Cook. Trescothick enjoyed a long career flying that flag too. West Indies currently have Gayle and Devon Smith with Chanderpaul, Wavell Hinds and Lambert regularly opening in ODI cricket. New Zealand have Ryder and they’ve previously had Fleming, Richardson, Wright, Edgar and Greatbatch to add to that list.

The South Africans have always had left-handers at the top of their order. Going back to their re-admission to international cricket in 1992, Wessels, Gary Kirsten, Graeme Smith and even Klusener opened the batting in the shorter form of the game. Bangladesh have had a relatively short time in the game but I can recall a few left-handers opening the batting for them. In fact, their current openers are both left-handers, Iqbal and Kayes.

Curiously Pakistan and India have not had that many left-handed openers. Wonder why? Butt and Farhat are recent openers and we can go back to the Anwar-Sohail partnership for the next regular pairing. Gambhir leads the Indian list now but I can’t think of too many more recent examples other than Sadagoppan Ramesh earlier in the decade. Both countries’ left-handers also seem to be less wristy than the right-handers, preferring to flay the ball through the offside. Is this because the ball may not swing back into them in the subcontinent and therefore they have to learn to play square of the wicket through the off-side? I’m just guessing here so perhaps those who know local conditions a bit better can suggest why that may appear to be the case. It may just be perception.

Back to the issue though about why left-handers may be more successful at the top of the order: is it because most bowlers are encouraged to bowl right-arm outswing or legcutters (to be more effective against right-hand batsmen) and are therefore more prone to straying on to the pads of lefties? As a medium pace bowler myself (albeit, not a very good one!), I find it difficult to bowl to left-handers because my natural ball curves back into them and gets tucked away quite easily. With my action, as soon as I adjust my line to just outside off stump, the blasted thing stops swinging and it disappears through point or cover! The lbw law makes it harder to trap a left-hander too unless I can pitch in line and get late movement back in (note: this requires skill and therefore automatically discriminates against me).

It will be interesting to see if left-handers get more or less lbw verdicts (proportionately)? Perhaps some clever boffin who can crunch statistics can run a report on this question? On the flip side, left-handers will complain that they usually have to deal with more rough outside off-stump due to the higher proportion of right-armers bowling over the wicket.

I’m no closer to answering the original question about why it is that there seems to be more left-handed openers at the highest level of the game but there’s no doubt that they are over-represented. Australia has by far the highest ratio of any country and it’s too high to put it down to mere coincidence.

Any thoughts or theories as to why this might be the case? Perhaps some coaches can provide an insight – do they deliberately promote left-handers to open the innings to counter outswing bowling? Or is it just a case of natural evolution where only the fittest survive? Whatever the reason, they should be banned for life. I just hate bowling to them!

At the end of a long summer of international cricket that began in Bangalore and finished in Sydney, one could be forgiven for thinking that it’s all doom and gloom for the average Australian cricket fan. Beaten comfortably by a resurgent India, ambushed in their own backyard by the resilient South Africans and then mugged by the Kiwi’s, it hasn’t been the sort of summer that we’ve been used to since … well since ... the early days of Border’s captaincy in the 1980s.

Despite that, I get the feeling that this summer brought with it a genuine sense of enjoyment, perhaps brought upon by the realisation that each and every match was a genuine 50/50 contest. Speaking to members of my local cricket club, knowledgeable without necessarily being experts, patriotic without necessarily being one-eyed, disappointed at the losses without necessarily being distraught, it strikes me that many Aussies are philosophical about the see-sawing fortunes of the national team.

There is almost an inevitability about their acceptance of the current state of affairs, almost as if it is only fair that we too must now learn the art of occasionally losing games of cricket with equanimity and grace. No great gnashing of teeth or looking for excuses – most of the people I spoke to were prepared to accept that winning can no longer be taken for granted. What’s more, there was even a grudging acceptance that it might actually be the best thing for the game.

I must confess to being a tad surprised by this relatively sanguine attitude until I realised that even the cricketers themselves might have sensed, deep in their souls, that the great era of dominance was soon to be no more. Watching their on-field behaviour this summer, there was none of the snarling and boorishness that characterised previous teams. They played it hard, they played it fair and they accepted the triumphs and disappointments with good grace. The series in India was perhaps a bit testy (both teams were guilty at times) but both South Africa and New Zealand played the game in the sort of spirit that made it easy for all three teams to play uncompromising cricket without crossing that invisible line.

There seems to be a general acceptance that the much vaunted depth in Australian domestic cricket proved to be somewhat of a false promise. For many years, Australian cricket prided itself on the belief that it could turn out two or three XI's that would beat most other countries. The performance of the new kids on the block this summer has laid that theory to rest. Our depth is solid without being spectacular, certainly no hint of a genuine world-class cricketer in the Warne, McGrath, Gilchrist mould. That realisation has been sobering but it hasn’t been depressing. It’s almost as if we’ve been relieved of that burden.

The middle part of Australia’s game, in both Tests and ODI’s remain the biggest area of concern amongst the average cricket follower. They point to an unconvincing middle order and the lack of a genuine spin bowler as the main reasons for some tame performances midway through an innings, batting or bowling. In ODI cricket especially, Australia looked very vulnerable in that 20-40 over stage of the match. When you compare David Hussey and Michael Clarke’s bowling to the likes of Vettori, Botha, Harbajhan, Muralidaran and Mendis, it is easy to see why we miss the class of Warne and Hogg in the middle part of our bowling innings. With the bat, the current middle order is a far cry from the Martyn, Waugh, Lehman, Bevan, Symonds heyday. Admittedly, without Gilchrist and Hayden to set the innings alight, everything else that follows must work with less credit in the bank. The credit crunch has hit Australia hard!

Credit where credit’s due though – there’s great admiration for some classy opposition players too. Gambhir, Laxman and Zaheer Khan were outstanding in India. Duminy, De Villiers, Steyn, Smith and Kallis were given due credit for their talents whilst Vettori commands enormous respect for his craft. This summer, Australians really appreciated the skill of the opposition teams instead of merely looking for someone to blame. Many people merely said "we were outplayed".

The confusion and angst lies with the selectors – most Aussie fans confess to being a bit bemused by the logic of some selections. Who is the best spin bowler in the country? How does someone who has never played a first-class game get an Australian cap (Warner)? Why are the two form (best?) batsmen, Brad Hodge and Lee Carseldine, ignored by the selectors? If Cameron White is not going to get a bowl, is he amongst the top 5 pure batsmen in the country? Our selection panel are discovering that it’s not quite a bed of roses when you haven’t got ‘all-time greats’ in the mix. Those teams virtually picked themselves.

Don’t get me wrong. This is not a lament for the dead, nor is it a denial of the bleeding obvious. It’s not panic stations and it's not hiding from the truth either. Most people accept that we’re a pretty good team playing against other very good teams who have the weaponry to put us away if we have a bad day. No shame in being competitive, no shame in occasionally coming second in a tight contest. In fact, this summer of cricket has actually brought a lot of people back to the game. It just goes to show that winning isn’t everything – a genuine contest, played hard and fair, without any of the 'silly stuff' has everyone buzzing about cricket again.

Can’t wait for the South African series. And the Ashes…

Timing is a strange beast though. Sometimes, inexplicably, it deserts you. Everything else seems perfectly normal and the bat swing is exactly the same as it always has been but the magic just disappears.

Ricky Ponting understands this better than most. For a man whose greatness as a batsman can never be questioned, his timing has deserted him lately. On the field, he has struggled to find fluency in his last few innings, mistimed a second run on the bullet arm of Neil Broom and then completed a day of poor timing by falling horribly behind the over-rate. These things happen sometimes. It’s hardly a hanging offence, this temporary lack of timing.

Off the field though, whoever decided that Ponting was going to be rested for the rest of the ODI series against NZ needs to have a long think about their timing. To be fair to Ponting, it may not have been his decision. Cricket Australia may have insisted on it. For all we know, Ponting may have questioned the timing of this ‘rest’ but may have been overruled by the men in suits.

This is not the time to be seen to be deserting the sinking ship. It may only be a matter of perception but as we all know, perception is reality. Here we have a team in complete disarray, beaten twice in Perth (usually a fortress), going through an enormous period of change and uncertainty and the skipper takes a break at the height of the crisis. It just doesn’t look good. It's all about timing.

If this break had been scheduled all along and communicated to the public, Ponting’s absence from the frontline would not be questioned. After all, Cricket Australia has known the itinerary for months now and they must have foreseen Ponting’s workload issues. Why didn’t they plan a break for him and announce it a week ago? Ponting has every right to a break from the game but it could have been handled better. To take an unscheduled break at this particular point of the season when they have just lost four games on the trot and are crying out for leadership is just poor timing.

Cricket is not war. It’s merely a game. Let’s not get too carried away with military analogies. But for a team and a system that thrives on talking in military-style jargon to justify their take-no-prisoners attitude, the comparisons are worth noting. Would an army general have picked this moment to leave the trenches and spend some time with the wife and kids? Would someone like Allan Border have allowed himself to be rested at this moment in time? He spent a large part of his career in trench warfare, back to the wall, finger in the dyke, leading from the front, bruised, bloodied but unbowed. It was impossible not to follow him into battle because his mates knew that he was always leading the way when things got tough. We’re only guessing but I daresay AB would have point blank refused to leave the team under these circumstances. “Over my dead body” and all that.

In this case, perhaps a white lie might have been a better PR strategy. A mystery virus or a sore hamstring or a flare-up of the wrist injury – it would have achieved the same purpose without the inevitable questions about deserting the troops.

There will be people who live normal lives and work 60+ hour weeks on a standard wage who will question why an athlete needs a rest when they essentially ‘work’ every few days anyway. They will question whether these same athletes will rediscover their freshness when IPL time comes around. Perhaps these ‘normal’ folk don’t understand the demands of modern sport. Perhaps they’re too busy working to need a rest. The general public are certainly starting to question the whole 'poor, weary, overworked athlete' thing now. Especially in a recession when money is tight and jobs are under threat at the same time as IPL auctions are being held. It's all about timing.

If Ponting was forced into taking this rest, Cricket Australia has done his reputation a disservice. If Ponting requested it, his management or the corporate PR machine should have suggested a press release that will see him taking a break after the next game, win, lose or tie. It looks better that way. As Ponting knows full well, it’s all about timing.

It’s an amusing little by-play to a competition that needs to be kept in context. It is Twenty20 after all, a bit of a circus, a bit of fun but never meant to be taken too seriously. Unless of course the Champions Trophy prize money warrants it being taken very seriously indeed. So seriously that a team is prepared to fly in an international ‘import’ to help them win a game.

To Symonds’s comments first though: he is obviously referring to the fact that a local NSW player must make way for McCullum in the final. By invoking the ‘un-Australian’ theme, he has chosen to follow the lead of opportunistic politicians and aim a blow at the very heart of the national psyche. For those of you unfamiliar with the gravity of being labelled “un-Australian”, it is a tactic that is regularly used in this country to describe the lowest of low acts. Once you have been labelled thus, you are nothing but a cad and a bounder, lower than a snake’s belly, deserving of contempt. Being called un-Australian is about as shameful as it gets (apparently).

Politicians use it all the time to describe anyone who unfairly sacks their workers or someone who steals a pensioner’s handbag or deserts a friend in need. It is an act that goes beyond being merely wrong – it strikes at the very heart of national pride. With these cutting words, Symonds has ensured that all of NSW will choke on their barbecued prawns and sausages on Australia Day on Monday. It is a mortal wound, this un-Australian business.

As trivial as this particular incident is in the larger scheme of things, it begs the question of why Australia seems to have monopolised some basic human qualities and turned it into an exclusive moral high ground, firmly contained within our own borders. We like to think of it simplistically as a “fair go”. I’m sure the rest of the world has other names to describe similar qualities but is it couched in nationalistic jargon? Some things are just wrong or right, regardless of which culture or country you identify with.

If one was to ever take politicians seriously (fortunately, no one here does – that would be un-Australian of course!), one could be forgiven for thinking that no other country on Earth shared these common values of mateship, decency, honesty, loyalty, generosity etc. It’s almost become a joke now when people label something universal as un-Australian because it is so clearly something that would apply to any people of the world. As if knocking an old lady down in the street, stealing her purse and kicking her dog is perfectly OK in any other part of the world. How ridiculous.

Cricket NSW is not going to stand for that sort of insult though. Anything but that. Once you’ve been called un-Australian, you have no choice but to defend your honour to the bitter end. They’ve fired back by asking how Symonds can justify his moral stance against the McCullum signing when he is happy to play for an IPL team and deny a local player a spot in his local team. What about Symonds’ stints in county cricket? Is that not denying a local his place in the team? Using that logic, surely playing a whole season and denying a local boy his spot for 6 months is worse than McCullum's cameo.

There are slight differences of course. This is a final, McCullum hasn’t played any of the lead-up games and most Australians love hating NSW. It’s un-Australian not to. What about the fact that Sohail Tanvir and Umar Gul have played for other teams in the competition? What about the fact that if the Deccan Chargers reach the final against his beloved Qld Bulls (if they hadn’t been knocked out), Symonds would be happily playing against his own mates, against the team that nurtured him to his current stardom? Would that not be un-Australian?

There's another twist in the tale. Apparently Victoria are thinking of hiring Adam Gilchrist or Shane Warne to play for them in the final. Is that un-Australian too or is it different if one Australian player replaces another, despite not having played a single game for this team in the current competition? Warne is at least a Victorian but Gilchrist is as removed from Victoria as McCullum is from NSW.

Perhaps where big money is involved, misplaced notions of national pride conveniently disappear. Is it un-Australian to have a selective memory? Or is that a trait that mankind shares in common?

It’s only Twenty20 cricket, a bit of fun and not to be taken too seriously. I write this in that vein, tongue-in-cheek and irreverently poking fun at my own country. With Australia Day just two days away, it’s positively Australian to take the mickey out of your own mates. Anything less would be…….yep you guessed it……un-Australian!

Matthew Hayden’s decision to finally hang up his boots has sparked lots of debate about whether he is Australia’s greatest opening batsman and where he sits in the list of All-Time-Greats. I played with Matt from his early days in Grade cricket and watched the development of a batsman with the most incredible self-belief of any human being in any walk of life that I have encountered. In that respect, he is the greatest "positive thinker" I have ever met. Being dropped or overlooked was only a minor speedbump to him. There was always another comeback, another reason to prove selectors wrong. Until now of course!

Who are the greatest cricketers? Is it based on total runs/wickets, averages, match-winning innings, match-saving innings, quality of opposition, helpful pitches etc. It’s a fascinating question that has no definitive black and white answer.

There is no real way to settle this argument is there? We’re all entitled to our own opinions and personal favourites and we’ve all got our own reasons for arriving at that decision. I’ve come up with one interesting benchmark to come up with one such list. Let’s try to find a list of players who have never been dropped in their entire Test careers. We’re not talking about injuries, team rotation policies or voluntary unavailability but actually “not selected” when available.

For ease of comparison, let’s restrict it to anyone who has played 50+ Tests and let’s start with anyone making their debuts after 1970. Even The Don was dropped at some point in his career so it just proves that this theory is not foolproof. Nonetheless, it might prove a fascinating exercise. Please join me in adding to the list or correcting any mistakes. I’m not using Wisden Almanacks, Statsguru or any research tools so I’m relying on my imperfect memory to start the ball rolling.

Let’s start at the top of the batting tree then. Have Tendulkar and Lara ever been dropped? I suspect not but perhaps early in their careers, they may have suffered that ignominy. I can’t think of it in recent times. Ricky Ponting, Steve Waugh and Allan Border were certainly dropped early in their careers but I don’t know if Sunil Gavaskar ever felt the axe. What about Javed Miandad? Likewise, my gut feeling is that Viv Richards was never dropped from a West Indies team. Gordon Greenidge is another that makes me scratch my head and wonder.

Bowlers – has Muttiah Muralitharan ever had the tap on the shoulder since he began his career? Shane Warne was famously left out for Stuart MacGill in the West Indies and I’m fairly confident that Wasim Akram, Courtney Walsh and Dennis Lillee have all been dropped at some point. Perhaps Lillee was just injured? Curtly Ambrose – I’m guessing that he was always first person picked in his era.

Wicketkeepers may have escaped relatively lightly. Was Ian Healy dropped or did he jump just in time? Adam Gilchrist has certainly never been left out of a Test team. Kumar Sangakkara probably makes that list too as does Andy Flower but it’s a bit tougher to assess the Zimbabwe situation because of their relative lack of depth. Mark Boucher has certainly felt the selector’s wrath in his Test career. Anyone know if Rod Marsh was dropped in the early part of his career (apart from World Series Cricket)?

Some less than obvious candidates may be Mark Taylor, Rahul Dravid, Richard Hadlee, Michael Holding, Allan Donald, Hansie Cronje and perhaps Malcolm Marshall. Kevin Pietersen hasn’t played enough Tests yet to qualify but I can’t see it happening in the near future. Who’s to say what indignities he might yet suffer? Mahendra Singh Dhoni and Michael Hussey are certainly heading in the right direction but they still have some time to go before serving the 50 Test qualification that I arbitrarily imposed on this list.

I’m not even pretending that this is meant to be the ultimate judge of the greatest players of all time. Most great players credit the disappointment of being dropped as one of the turning points in their careers so it is clear that missing selection at some point is a mere speed bump to many luminaries of the game. I’m just curious to see what sort of list we can come up with if we all rack our brains. I don’t think I’ve missed too many.

As for Matt Hayden – my personal view is that he probably mistimed his jump by a few weeks. Like Gilchrist and Lara, his legend may have been better served by retiring at a time when people would say “why?” rather than waiting just that bit too long and have those same people saying “when?”. It’s easy in hindsight though and Hayden was never one to die wondering. Live by the sword…….

Looking forward to reading your responses.

It is poignant that Kevin Pietersen was on safari in Africa last week. Inspired perhaps by the roar of a young lion, in the prime of youth, on the cusp of inheriting a kingdom, KP threw down the challenge to the ECB, confident that his ageing rival would realise that the new King had arrived and make way without the need for a dangerous fight.

Cricket, like other professional sports before it, had better get used to this. It will happen increasingly so, as cricketers fully come to terms with the massive shift in power that comes with huge salaries and multiple paymasters.

To that extent, the ECB’s alleged disenchantment with KP’s ultimatum is a breath of fresh air. Rumour has it that if he hadn’t resigned from the captaincy, the ECB may have removed him from that honour anyway. If true, it is a brave but ultimately futile attempt to redress the balance of power between employer and employee. In this instance, KP may have sensed that his earlier brinkmanship was a miscalculation but it is a portent of the way things will be in international cricket.

Professional sport, especially the big money team sports like football, rugby, cricket, basketball, baseball etc, is a curious beast to describe. In some senses, players, coaches and administrators like to think that they inhabit an industry that is no different to the world of business and commerce. Instead of trading in widgets and whatsits, they trade in runs, wickets or goals.

CEO’s run the business with a ruthless eye on the bottom line. Employees justify their exorbitant salaries and cosseted lifestyles, replete with a veritable army of medical staff and personal trainers by claiming that they are merely doing a job like any other normal person in the community.

This argument breaks down a little bit when these same athletes want to be treated as ‘special’ when it suits them but also claim that they are just normal people when their excessive behaviours attract any unwanted media attention. Which is it? Are you a normal person living by normal rules or are you someone quite special with role model status and high-roller salary?

What I really want to explore though is the difference between sport and business and why they can never really be treated the same. Professional sport is possibly the only industry where the employees wield considerably more power than the CEO or coach/manager. With few exceptions, this highly unusual situation is at the root of the future problems that cricket administrators will face.

Where else does the CEO earn a fraction of what his ‘workers’ make? Same applies to coaches and managers and those charged with maintaining discipline. In business, the Chairman, President or CEO truly holds the whip hand, both in real power and probably in earning power too, which translates into real power anyway. In most team sports, it is the athlete who is the ultimate asset. And he knows it!

Think about the superstars like Warne, Lara, Tendulkar or Pietersen himself. They know full well that cricket needs them more than they need their CEO. They make ten times the money (at least), they get a hundred times the media attention and they put bums on seats in stadia or on TV. No CEO or coach has that sort of pulling power.

With the advent of the IPL cash cow, these marquee players feel an even greater sense of empowerment. Playing for one’s country may still be the ultimate honour but the cheques are bigger in ‘private enterprise’. It’s no different to signing up to fight for your country’s army for good wages or as a mercenary for a rich warlord who pays handsomely for performance without emotional ties to any national flag. Discipline becomes extremely hard to enforce because the players can choose another employer who will pay just as much, perhaps much more!

There’s no real solution to the problem, not when the players continue to command the lion’s share of the money, compared to their so-called bosses. If it honestly came down to a battle between Ricky Ponting and James Sutherland, who do you think would win that battle? How can the zoo keeper really expect blind obedience when the lion knows he is unarmed and defenceless? In football, try telling someone like David Beckham that his coach has more power than him? By the way, who is his coach? See what I mean?

In this instance, KP may have misjudged his power play slightly but the writing is on the wall. The lion tamers know that they are the bosses in name only. On the open savannah, the young lions know full well that their bite is more powerful than their master’s roar.

It does highlight the cultural differences that exist with the issue of captaincy from country to country. Australia (and perhaps NZ too) seem to embrace an old-fashioned view of the captain and his relationship within the team dynamic. It is almost taken for granted that the job is reserved for a relatively senior player, arguably the best player in the team. More revealing though is the unspoken assumption (tradition) that past captains are unlikely to keep playing under a new leader. It’s something that Australia and NZ are generally uncomfortable about – once your position as captain has been usurped, it’s normally the end of your career too.

I can only think of a couple of recent examples when Greg Chappell played briefly under Kim Hughes’ captaincy and then Hughes himself had a few horror games against the West Indies in 1984/85 under Allan Border. Neither situation was likely to last very long, adding to my theory that it is almost not the done thing to remain in the team once you are no longer the captain.

I’m not that good on my NZ history but the same rationale seems to apply there too. Stephen Fleming had a brief period as a player after he gave up the captaincy but it just didn’t seem right. His legacy as a great leader and elder statesman seemed to choke rather than liberate his successor. Nothing obvious but it just appeared that way from the outside.

Why is it that the other cricketing countries don’t seem to have a major problem with this? Is it a good thing for the skipper to be able to be re-absorbed back into the team or do the Antipodeans have a good reason for rarely embracing former leaders? I would be curious to hear your views from around the world.

Think about it – England have never had an issue with former captains continuing to play in the same team. Most famously, Ian Botham performed his heroics in 1981 immediately after being sacked as captain. Other recent examples include Gooch, Gatting, Stewart, Atherton, Hussain and Vaughan. What is it about the England set-up that allows this to happen with relatively little angst?

Pakistan has had a long history of this. I’d be curious to hear from our Pakistani friends whether this process creates any underlying tension or whether it all happens amicably. Pakistan cricket even goes one step further and sometimes gives a former captain another tilt at the crown. This would certainly never occur in Australian cricket but it never seemed to affect the performance of players like Miandad, Imran Khan, Wasim Akram and Inzy. Is it a cultural thing that allows this fluid leadership situation to flourish without any bad blood?

India and Sri Lanka are no strangers to this either. Jaysauriya and Atapattu seemed perfectly comfortable about being foot soldiers after an extended captaincy stint. The Indian team often has up to 4 former captains in the one team and it looks pretty harmonious. Is there more to it than meets the eye or can it be assumed that players like Tendulkar and Dravid, sanguine souls, are more than content to sit in the background?

At the height of the West Indian dynasty when they had incredibly strong captains like Lloyd and Richards in charge, one would never have imagined a situation when players like Lara, Hooper, Chanderpaul and Sarwan would all be playing under each other, having once been captains themselves. The South Africans are probably much more like the Australian model except for the period when Shaun Pollock played out his days under Smith’s orders.

Bangladesh and Zimbabwe too, despite not having enough history to call on, seem comfortable enough with the notion of ex-captains continuing to play in the team. The Zim team of the last ten years had a number of former captains in the same team and it all looked like happy families.

So, is it just coincidence or does the Australian system have a cultural predisposition towards this trend? Is it the former captain who feels uncomfortable about returning to the ranks of the infantry, does the new captain feel awkward in the presence of the old leader or does the team itself feel uncomfortable when a past captain is now one of the boys?

It’s a uniquely Down Under phenomenon but as the cricket calendar gets busier and player burn-out becomes an issue (including captains), I can see it happening more often in Australia but not just yet. Will Ponting ever give up the captaincy voluntarily (and keep playing) if the team keeps losing? I doubt it.

When you get used to driving a Rolls Royce on an Autobahn, it sometimes takes awhile to adjust to driving a normal family sedan on a suburban street. Whilst the Rolls was powered by engines of the calibre of McGrath, Warne, Gilchrist, the Waugh twins, Langer and Gillespie, it makes the transition to a four cylinder compact, fuelled by Siddle, Lee, Symonds and Hauritz/Krezja an even harder psychological vehicle to drive.

Australia’s batting performance in the second innings at the MCG reflects the above analogy perfectly. For so long, perhaps a decade or so, Australia batted like princes, comfortable in the knowledge that they had the depth and class to ride out any minor hiccups. Most situations were treated the same way – back your ability and those of your brilliant mates to smash your way out of trouble. If all of the top order failed, rare as that was, there was always Gilchrist to come.

In the very early days of a crumbling empire, the first sign is usually a refusal to accept that some things have changed and the world will never be the same again. Throughout this series, and especially in the second innings in Melbourne, Australia batted like royalty but failed to realise that the kingdom, whilst not yet relinquished, was certainly not theirs to take for granted.

It called for some old-fashioned grit, some dogged resistance, the sort of boring, negative cricket that went against everything the Rolls Royce brigade stood for. Someone forgot to tell them that the Rolls had been traded in for the family wagon, complete with passengers, some of them out of form, some of them injured, some of them inexperienced and some of them still living in the past.

Hayden’s innings was a mixture of desperation, courage and ultimately, false bravado. When it comes off, that sort of arrogance is applauded for its audacity and fearlessness. He has played so many of those great innings and it would be churlish to forget those many moments during this short period of poor form. Today, when Australia needed a sober innings, Hayden refused to accept that role. The South Africans, mindful of that mindset, set their trap and got their man, as they have done all series.

Katich, and Haddin too were in the same frame of mind. None of this boring match-saving stuff for them. Driving expansively, they nicked balls that should have been left alone if sensible survival were the team orders. Perhaps Ponting was still harbouring hopes of a win – his dismissal was not that of a timid man looking to scrap for a draw. Likewise the vice-captain Clarke - three players caught in the short-cover region. There’s only one way to crash a Rolls Royce and that’s to do it in style!

The fat lady has yet to sing so I’m being cautious about writing off the Aussies with a lead of 180+ on a last day pitch. Regardless of whether SA chase down this total or not, one cannot help but wonder whether the modes of dismissal today were part of a team plan to keep attacking, regardless of the match situation or whether it was a case of some batsmen just refusing to accept the new reality of an army without the big guns.

Australia will not become a poor team overnight. There’s too much depth and too much pride to allow that to happen. They will continue to be competitive and will probably win more than they lose. The big difference now is that other countries have lost their fear of the mighty Aussie machine. The Proteas have proved that you can fight back against them and not just survive but thrive. It’s a credit to the SA think-tank that they have understood the psychology so well and given the Aussie batsmen enough rope to hang themselves. Their field settings and the line they bowled today relied heavily on the home team refusing to play out maiden overs or let too many go through to the wicketkeeper. In some senses, it was an ego thing.

The champagne days are over for the time being. No shame in that. The sooner this Australian team comes to terms with the new reality of their own mortality, the sooner they will learn to stop batting like millionaires. It’s been great entertainment and we’ve enjoyed the ride but it’s time to start playing ‘ugly’ again. The Australian cricket fan is knowledgeable enough to appreciate that and allow this new generation to find their feet without holding them ransom to the Rolls Royce legacy that we’ve been treated to since the early 1990’s.

Recent series’ involving New Zealand have done little to spark interest either side of the Tasman whilst at the same time, Chennai and Perth produced two of the finest Tests ever witnessed. All of a sudden, everyone was buzzing again. Then along came the Mohali Test and killed off that brief excitement. That last day was a knife through the heart of Test cricket.

What is clear to Blind Freddy though (although not quite as obvious to the ICC) is that we have a major problem with over-rates. It’s almost taken for granted now that we will use up the extra half hour each evening and even then, the 90 overs are often not completed. Even with spinners operating, this problem remains constant.

Cricket now operates in the ‘entertainment’ industry. If you keep cheating the public of value for money, they will vote with their feet (or remote controls). Cricketers keep talking about the value of Test cricket but their actions sometime belie the rhetoric.

There are a number of reasons why this should not be happening.

1. Cricketers are fitter now than they have ever been. They have no other job except cricket. Why are they not fit enough to get through 90 overs in six hours without dragging their feet? They expect to be treated (and paid) like professionals but they do not seem capable of fulfilling their jobs in the allotted time. Remember, 90 overs in a day is the minimum. They're not even meeting minimum workplace standards!

2. Most field placings and strategies are worked out well in advance. Each team has an army of computer boffins and coaches who justify their existence by planning everything down to the last detail. Why then do captains waste time discussing minor field alterations with the bowler? Surely most of this has already been mapped out?

3. Umpires and match referees seem to wait until the last hour to start chivvying the fielding team into catching up. Do they not realise that it’s a day-long exercise that is best managed throughout the day? Some suggest the answer lies in the fielding team having one less fielder for each over that they failed to bowl in the previous session. Unfortunately, that will corrupt the integrity of the contest and is a brave but ultimately futile suggestion.

I’ve been watching Ricky Ponting these last few weeks and his captaincy style contributes to this malaise. Instead of making changes from second slip, he trots over to the bowler, has long discussions, makes minor alterations and trots back. Was this not already discussed at the team meeting? Was it something different to the print-out provided by the coaching staff?

Particularly galling is when captains waste long minutes, setting the field at the start of the session. Surely they knew which batsman was on strike? They must have known the plan of attack before they walked out on the field. Why was this not discussed in the dressing room?

Most international captains have similar tendencies. In an era where the computers make more decisions than the on-field captain, it is hard to understand why they take so long to set a field to a batsman whose every shot has been dissected to the nth degree in the team meeting.

Why is it that it takes repeated breaches before the ICC will take any action on the matter? Think about a speedtrap or speed camera – no warnings – if you break the law, you pay the penalty. No multiple warnings.

When they eventually get punished, the ICC levies small fines, relative to their millionaire salaries. It is a pointless exercise and it does not work. The only language they understand is suspension. The Nagpur Test proved that – faced with suspension, Ponting was prepared to compromise the result for a new-found conscience. Dhoni was no better – on that last day in Nagpur, when Hayden was mounting an unlikely chase, they bowled just 23 overs in the entire first session.

In wildlife conservation, gamekeepers turned poachers can be the most destructive enemies of the beasts they were meant to protect. Test cricket faces a similar challenge to the majestic tiger - both need protection from greed.

Can it really be true? Two record-breaking run chases in the same week, in venues and on pitches that could not be more different to each other. The MA Chidambaram Stadium and the WACA have little in common apart from this magnificent week of Test cricket.

Both games had incredible swings of fortune. Betting agencies around the world must have been tearing their hair out, trying to frame markets that kept swinging from one extreme to another. In Perth, South Africa went from being rank outsiders before the start to a brief stint as favourites in the first few overs of the match to level pegging before Mitchell Johnson’s devastating burst. After that, their share price plummeted again until it started looking a bit healthier when they bowled well in the second innings. Brad Haddin’s innings effectively blew the price out again to unbackable odds, Graeme Smith and Hashim Amla briefly brought South African money back into the reckoning until two late wickets on the fourth evening restored Australian supremacy. The rest is now amazing history!

How do I know all this? Well, apart from being a keen punter myself, I was constantly kept abreast of the betting fluctuations with the Channel 9 commentary team’s regular advertorials for an Internet betting agency. To legitimise it even more, we were reminded, nay comforted, by the reassurance that this mob were official partners of Cricket Australia. Oh, that’s a relief!.

It is astounding the governing body of a national sport so openly aligns itself with an Internet betting agency to the extent that it is now part of the television broadcast. One would not expect anything better from a commercial television station - no one really believes that ethics have any place in their corporate jungle but for Cricket Australia to so publicly sell itself to gambling makes a mockery of their so-called charter to sell cricket as the custodian of a sport that is supposed to be about grassroots, families and young children.

As if cricket didn’t already have a slight problem with gambling - anyone recall incidents involving certain high-profile international cricket captains? Was it just my imagination or did the ICC appoint Sir Paul Condon to take a forensic look at the betting cancer that was gripping cricket a few years ago? Perhaps Hansie Cronje finally backed the South Africans today and was able to exert a bit of divine intervention.

Just yesterday, three A-League soccer players in Australia were fined for betting on games in their own league. The Football Federation of Australia was forced to publicly admonish these players who were apparently unaware of the seriousness of their misdemeanour! Oh really? They expect us to believe that?

And in this sort of climate, we have a national sporting body and a national broadcaster encouraging prime-time audiences, including children, to get involved with betting in a Test match in progress. How do the men in suits, who cash the cheques, keep a straight face when warning their employees (the athletes) to stay completely away from gambling on the sport while quickly checking that the next commentary stint has the latest odds available for an on-air plug?

Would any responsible sporting body allow themselves to publicly encourage viewers to drink XYZ Whisky, Bourbon or Rum? I’m not talking about an advertisement that is clearly packaged as such – I’m talking about something that is subtly woven into the actual commentary itself so it becomes part of the analysis of the cricket, from the expert commentators whose job it is to educate the viewers.

Of course it’s much more effective than a pure advertisement. That’s why Cricket Australia has probably pocketed a tidy little sum to be the ‘official partner’ of this betting agency. Perhaps some of that money will go back into grassroots cricket or junior development or towards player welfare to help the next cricketer who falls off the rails and has a drinking or gambling problem.

I’ve got nothing against sports betting per se. I’m one of the most avid punters going around. I love having a bet on the cricket or the footy or on two flies crawling up a wall. It’s an adult pursuit that is probably best done in private, away from the inquiring minds of the innocent, the young and the vulnerable. It’s hard enough explaining some overt advertising messages to young children without them hearing it legitimised by the commentators and the game’s governors.

P.S. My young son may just have sensed that something was amiss anyway when I started cheering every South African run this afternoon. I didn’t really know how to tell him that daddy had backed the Proteas at ridiculous odds when they began their chase and that Santa Claus would now be quite generous this year!

I write this piece on the morning of the last day of an absorbing Test in Chennai. Rahul Dravid, the focus of this essay, is not out overnight and possibly facing the last great challenge in an admirable career. The scene is set for a Dravid epic – obdurate, unflinching and the perfect time to live up to his nickname of The Wall.

I have to wonder though if the modern game will allow someone like Dravid the opportunity to defend his way back into form. With high scoring rates and an expectation that batsmen will always play shots, Dravid may not have the arsenal to be able to fight back with a big score at this late stage of his career. His game is largely built around a rock solid defensive technique and the ability to concentrate for long periods of time, wearing down opposition bowlers. He may not have the luxury of time to resurrect his career unless the selectors can see beyond the strokemakers and recognise an old fashioned jewel in the new Indian crown.

When Dravid really shone in the 2003/04 series in Australia, he did that by being much more aggressive than the Aussies expected him to be. All of a sudden, the longer he remained at the crease, not only was he occupying time but the scoreboard was scooting along too. With Sehwag, Tendulkar and Laxman at the other end, Dravid’s batting was now a real threat because the bowlers could not block up one end by bowling short of a length to him.

On the other side of the world, Matthew Hayden faces a similar minor slump. His style of batting though seems more likely to emerge from that low period for the simple reason that he has the capacity to play big shots. Which brings me to my question: is it easier to hit your way out of a form slump in the modern game (Hayden) than to graft (Dravid)?

For what it’s worth, I don’t think international cricket will allow someone like Dravid to find form again with a slow, painstaking century. He will need to play shots and be bold if he is to survive this series. Even if he saves this Test in Chennai!

Virender Sehwag epitomises this modern trend of hitting your way back into form. Left out of the Indian side 12 months ago, he is again arguably the most feared opening batsman in world cricket because of his ability to score runs quickly. Most batsmen who resurrect their careers in contemporary cricket are almost forced to do it in an aggressive fashion. Justin Langer’s second coming was a far cry from his early days as a tough, no-nonsense accumulator. Langer Mark II often out-scored Hayden in those opening partnerships.

Mahela Jayawardene had a dreadful period during the 2003 World Cup in South Africa but he crafted his renaissance on getting big scores and getting them quickly. Saurav Ganguly and VVS Laxman fought their way back into the Indian team by backing their attacking instincts. Andrew Symonds, on the verge of being dropped when the South Africans were here last, launched a spectacular counter-offensive (in partnership with Hayden) to hang on to his spot, a feat he repeated a year later against England when his form was again a bit patchy, once more in partnership with Hayden. In contrast, Andrew Strauss seems to have saved his career by sticking to his steady game plan, accumulating rather than thrashing away frenetically.

Ironically Hayden himself adopted a much more conservative, disciplined approach when he saved his career in the Oval Test of the 2005 Ashes Series but he soon returned to his swashbuckling best once the axe had stopped hovering. I can’t see him repeating this conservatism against South Africa though – if he goes down, it will be in flames!

I’ve always been a big fan of Dravid, not just for his perfect batting technique but also for the absolute gentleman that he has always been throughout a long career. Here is a cricketer who has developed a reputation for being tough without having to resort to being boorish. I daresay he is widely respected and well-liked by most of his opponents. Whether he is now feared by them, in a cricketing sense, I doubt.

As soon as a player loses the ability to win a Test match and relies on being selected solely for his ability to save one, I suspect the modern game will spit him out. I hope Dravid can find an extra gear today and play the sort of innings that will convince the selectors that this Rolls Royce is not yet ready for the museum. Sadly, I can’t see it happening.

In recent times, as cricket has now become a full-time job for most professional cricketers, it beggars belief that some cricketers still cannot improve their batting skills to the extent that they can at least have a basic defensive technique. For the less defensive types like Stuart Clark or Zaheer Khan, at least find a few lusty attacking shots that can be honed to some level of competency.

They do very little else with their lives apart from practicing cricket. The bowlers do increasingly less bowling at training these days, wrapped in cotton wool and constantly having massages, ice baths and visualisation sessions. With an army of support staff around them who need to justify their jobs within the team structure, surely it is not asking too much to spend a few hours each week improving their batting skills.

Glenn McGrath proved that if you are serious enough about it, you can transform yourself from an absolute bunny to someone capable of scoring a Test fifty. Jason Gillespie went even further, starting off with a completely dead bat technique and eventually expanding his repertoire to score a Test double-hundred. Mind you, he never played another Test again so that’ll teach him to score runs instead of taking wickets. Daniel Vettori is in a similar category.

The Indian tail is now learning the value of taking their batting seriously. They might even have lost the Border-Gavaskar Trophy if not for telling contributions from Harbajhan Singh, Zaheer Khan and Ishant Sharma. You can see that it’s not just a case of swinging blind and hoping for the best. They clearly devote time to improving their skills.

On the other side of the coin, we had someone like Courtney Walsh who actually got worse as his career went on. All that time playing county cricket and Test cricket – if he had devoted even two hours a week facing the bowling machine, it would have shown. Muttiah Muralitharan has a good eye and hits the ball hard but his efforts at the batting crease are almost comical. Almost twenty years of first-class cricket and his improvement is nil.

It can be done. Jimmy Anderson and Matthew Hoggard were pretty poor batsmen when they first started but they’ve both made huge leaps in terms of their technique. Steve Harmison favours the aggressive approach but is now more than nuisance value. Even Monty Panesar is starting to value his wicket, especially against the spinners. The Devon Malcolm/Alan Mullally era seems to be well and truly over for England.

The South Africans have always prided themselves on not giving away cheap wickets. Makhaya Ntini is agricultural but at least he watches the ball and looks disappointed when he gets out. Shoaib Akhtar can hit big sixes. Lasith Malinga has also become a useful ally to a top order batsmen – Kumar Sangakkara played a great innings in Hobart last year with his support.

In the modern game, where coaches are looking for those ‘one percenters’ in every aspect of the game, it’s hard to believe that both coach and cricketer can’t find the time to work on their batting to find at least another 10%. With cricketers now more skilled at hitting big boundaries and scoring quickly, a tail-ender who can stick around with an established batsman can win a game for his team. Just ask Mike Hussey – he owes a few of his Test centuries to partners who refused to throw in the towel. Steve Waugh was also another brilliant tactician when it came to batting with so-called bunnies.

This is my list of some of the worst batsmen in recent memory. Feel free to throw in names of people I may have missed. In no particular order: Chris Martin, Ian O’Brien, Devon Malcolm, Alan Mullally, Courtney Walsh, Stuart MacGill, Muttiah Muralitharan, Amit Mishra, Shane Bond and most of the current West Indian tail. Who have I forgotten?

Today, I received my regular M.C.C Newsletter from Lord’s which talked about some of the issues that were canvassed by the M.C.C World Cricket Committee Meeting in October. It talked about the decline of spin bowling and the need to get away from the philosophy that “if the first ball seams, it’s a good wicket; if the first ball spins, it is a bad wicket”.

At the Gabba last week, we saw a fairly mediocre New Zealand batting line up clinically dismantled by a four-pronged Aussie seam attack. Given the wild storms that hit Brisbane in the days leading up to the game, it was no surprise really to see a pitch that was even more conducive to fast bowling than is normally the case. This is usually a surface that favours the quickies anyway – the ground staff worked miracles to prepare a playing surface of this quality.

Initially, when Australia was bowled out cheaply in the first innings, there was the usual debate about whether the pitch was too helpful to the seam bowlers. Sensible commentators simply accepted that this was part of the challenge of playing in Australian conditions and no more excuses were made for a fairly poor batting display by most of the batsmen apart from Michael Clarke and Simon Katich. Daniel Vettori was magnanimous in defeat, conceding that his batsmen did not have the skills or experience to cope with these very-Australian conditions. No apologies, no excuses.

A few ignorant callers to a radio program that I host referred to the so-called ‘doctored’ pitches in India as an excuse why the Australians surrendered the Border-Gavaskar Trophy. I'm afraid I failed to grasp their logic.

In general though, many cricketers still cling to the notion that hard, fast and bouncy = GOOD but low, dusty and spinning = BAD. Even in lower levels of cricket, the word ‘good’ is invariably used to describe a surface that is hard and fast whereas a dry, slow pitch that looks like it might turn is immediately disparaged. Perhaps it is an inadvertent use of the term ‘good’, unlike in horse racing where it is merely used to describe a certain type of surface rather than give it positive or negative attributes. For too long, cricket has always associated fast pitches with being good pitches.

In Mumbai in 2004, Australia was bowled out chasing a low score and the pitch was widely panned for being sub-standard because they scored less then 100 runs in the last innings. In the very next Test, NZ was shot out for 76 at the Gabba on a good wicket. A few weeks later at the WACA, Pakistan were humbled for just 72 runs in the final innings but there was still no question whatsoever about the quality of the pitch. It was just that the hapless touring teams were unable to cope with the skills required to cope with the extra pace and bounce. No apologies, no excuses.

It was not always so. In the 1980s when the West Indies fast bowlers were running rampant, Australia deliberately prepared spinning pitches in Sydney for Bob Holland, Murray Bennett and even Allan Border to spin Australia to victory. The mighty West Indian batsmen had their techniques shown up as being inadequate to even counter part-time spinners like Border. No apologies, no excuses.

The famous Gabba pitch is now under threat from a plan to rip it up to make the centre wicket area softer for the winter football codes. If this happens, it is likely to lose the unique character that makes it such an attractive cricket destination. That will be a shame because one of the great things about Test cricket is watching touring sides cope with first day conditions in steamy Brisbane at the start of a series. If you can’t handle the pace, bounce and seam movement, that’s just bad luck. You come to Australia, you learn to play on our pitches. No apologies, no excuses.

So long as the reverse also applies for Test cricket played in other parts of the world. As Sachin Tendulkar once said “just because it spins, does that mean it’s not Test cricket?” No apologies, no excuses.

Tonight, Australian cricket has proved a point to itself and to me. Australia played the AllStars team led by Adam Gilchrist in a T20 match at the Gabba. It was meant to be a sort of practice match and a sort of exhibition match.

Normally, Australia doesn’t DO this practice/exhibition thing very well. Anything that is not played to win is something that most Australians find hard to get their heads around. It’s just not in their nature not to be super competitive. If it means firing one past Grandma’s nose in the Backyard Test, well, she asked for it. That’ll teach her to get on the front foot and drive me on the up past the rubbish bin and over the bbq!!

That’s why I wasn’t quite sure why I was at the Gabba tonight. It’s normally not my cup of tea to watch a meaningless T20 game with nothing at stake, surrounded by rowdy patrons on a Friday night. But I’m glad I went.

It was a game played at high intensity and at a blistering pace. Shaun Tait was slinging it down at 150 k’s and Michael Dighton from Tasmania hit a six first ball over third slip. It was that sort of pitch. Peter Siddle, after 8 weeks on the slower pitches of India, let fly with a few searing bouncers that went straight over the keeper’s head for five wides. And he smiled.

Brad Hodge played some stunning shots to remind us all that if any Australian batsmen slip up, he can still mix it in the very best company. Justin Langer too peeled back the years and struck a few balls into the crowd.

What was most revealing though was that here was proof that Australian cricket can be played hard and fast but can also be played entirely in the right spirit. There was none of the snarling and muttering that we saw from both teams in the recent Border Gavaskar Trophy. It was just high quality cricket, played by high quality cricketers with no ‘mongrel’ necessary.

What this shows is that Australian cricket too often sells itself short. It's too easy to justify the on-field excesses by claiming that in order to be competitive, they need to fire themselves up by behaving poorly. The sledging and verbals apparently provide the spark to light the genius within.

Tonight’s game has just shown that trash talk for exactly what it is – rubbish. The skills, power and brilliance shown tonight owed nothing to that sort of behaviour. It was purely down to some wonderfully talented cricketers, evenly matched, going at each other with ferocity but without venom. Dropped catches, edges, french cuts and not a hint of the usual vitriol.

Even the behaviour of the crowd was in keeping with this civilised theme. Denied of a team to hate, they seemed to be transfixed by the wonderful entertainment on show from Australia’s best cricketers. They had their personal favourites of course – the local Queenslanders and Gilchrist were cheered louder than most but it just lacked that unpleasant edge that sometimes happens late at night after a thousand beers. This was Australian nightlife at it’s most generous and magnanimous. It’s such a shame that so many of our international visitors to the Gabba don’t get to see this.

The Australian team were ultimately beaten by the AllStars. Some people will point to that and say “see I told you. They were too friendly and that’s why they lost”.

Wrong. They lost because it’s T20 cricket and that happens sometimes. They lost because Australia’s depth is so strong that the ‘2nd XI’ were always a chance to win this game. Perhaps they were a bit tired after the long flight home from India and weren’t quite pumped up for this ‘friendly’ encounter. But don’t make the mistake of thinking that they weren’t trying to win. That would be an insult to both teams.

OK, let’s be realistic – they weren’t playing for sheep stations and perhaps it lacked that little 'something' that comes when you’re playing an International. Even allowing for that, my original point stands. Here were some wonderful cricketers, most of them playing for spots in the Australian team, enjoying cricket for the pure unadulterated joy of it. Smiles instead of snarls. Shrugs instead of sledges. This is what they mean when they talk of playing it hard but fair. Forget the other rubbish of having to abuse somebody to prove you really want to win.

It’s a good to be an Australian tonight. Played hard, played fair, played with a smile on the face. To use an awful cliché, cricket was the winner tonight!

An Employment Law expert who read my previous post contacted me today. He provided me with some interesting perspectives on whether abuse on the cricket field (in the professional game) might one day finish up in the law courts.

Rugby has already seen instances of players suing each other for high tackles and punches that caused serious injury. Referees have been sued when scrums have collapsed which resulted in spinal injuries. Fast bowlers might have to re-think the old threats of “I’ll knock your block off” lest that be interpreted as premeditated assault. Likewise, sledging and verbal abuse in a professional work environment. Perhaps even selectors might one day be sued for unfairly terminating a career. Where might it end?

It motivated me to do some research on the topic. Here’s a link to a self-help guide to Workplace Bullying in Australia Most countries would have similar rules and laws that govern the workplace.

A hypothetical situation then: what happens if a professional cricketer in Australia encounters any of the behaviours described above? Can he file a case for workplace bullying or harassment against individuals or against the organisation that runs the competition?

He may well be able to take action against any opposition player who engaged in abuse, psychological harassment or intimidation. The umpires could possibly be in the firing line for being unable or unwilling to control a workplace that was under their jurisdiction. The governing body (eg: Cricket Australia) could also be liable for failing to provide a workplace that was fair and free of harassment/bullying practices.

The aggrieved party could argue that their career has been adversely affected or prematurely ended because of the systemic workplace abuse that has been allowed to go unchecked. The court case could see team-mates (witnesses) testifying against each other under oath. Prosecution lawyers would certainly remind them of the penalties that apply for perjury, even against their best friends!

Umpires will be expected to maintain a safe workplace because they are in control of that environment whilst play is in progress. In some senses, it will be no different to the CEO being held responsible for the behaviours that occur in the office, especially if he/she knew about it and did nothing to stop it!

The company itself (governing body) has a responsibility to run a workplace that is free from systemic bullying, harassment and intimidation. Most legal jurisdictions are unlikely to swallow a defence that is based around arguments like “it’s a man’s game, what happens on the field stays on the field, it’s all part of the game, we play it hard but fair etc”.

Cricket is now a multi-million dollar business, from highly paid administrators to umpires, match referees, legal counsel, team managers and the cricketers themselves. When it suits them, they justify their salaries and self-importance by referring to it as a bona fide business operation. Fair enough too. What they must be prepared for now is to be judged in that same legal light when it comes to running the business of cricket.

In today’s increasingly litigious environment, it will only be a matter of time before a cricketer files a law suit of this nature. Lost earnings, lost career, mental stress, nervous breakdowns…the list is endless. Already we are seeing a proliferation of legalities entering the game with High Court judges presiding over appeals and talk of “natural justice” and other such high-flown legal jargon. It’s no longer the amateur game of yesteryear where an umpire or administrator’s verdict was final and they didn’t have to justify everything from a legal standpoint.

The governors of the game might one day have to recognise the seriousness of this cancer and put clear policies in place to make it a decent and fair workplace. Forget the whimsical yearnings for the spirit of the game and all that rubbish. Sadly, those romantic ideals died some time ago. It’s now a serious business, played for high stakes and lucrative livelihoods.

The ICC is full of lawyers who should be able to see this train wreck coming. Will they pre-empt this futuristic scenario or will it be the usual case of policy on the run? One simple question for the administrators – would they tolerate this sort of verbal intimidation and harassment in their plush offices in Dubai, St John’s Wood, Melbourne and Mumbai? If the answer is an indignant and self-righteous “of course not”, then how can they allow it on the ‘factory floor’?

	The players should take a look in the mirror and start behaving like the highly skilled professionals they claim to be © AFP

Perhaps now, finally, after way too much prevarication on the issue, the ICC might finally take a stand on what the ‘Spirit of Cricket’ actually means. It’s clear that no such spirit operates in the real world. It’s just a fancy set of words that mean nothing to the cricketers and officials who are meant to uphold that spirit.

The full media release from Justice Sachs regarding the Gautam Gambhir appeal is a sad indictment of what really happens on the field. It tells a story of abuse and sledging and a subsequent physical response that has cost Gambhir a crucial Test match. The saddest part of the whole thing is that no one is even attempting to deny the abuse and the physical contact any more. It’s now an argument about when abuse becomes too much provocation to prevent physical contact.

The entire transcript from players, umpires and Match Referee is a sordid reflection of what the ICC is prepared to tolerate in this so-called professional workplace.What other workplace would allow such behaviour to occur under the shameful umbrella of “competitiveness, grown men, a man’s game, a tough environment, what happens on the field…” etc? It is now clear that not all cricketers can play by these arbitrary rules. The mere fact that Gambhir’s actions were triggered by the constant provocation proves that different people have different levels of tolerance to abuse. And their reactions can take different forms, on different days, leading to higher levels of abuse or physical contact.

Cricket has a simple decision to make. Is this is a professional workplace or a mere sporting environment? Either definition makes it difficult to legitimise abuse, verbal or physical.

If it is a workplace, then the administrators and players should start treating it as such. They need to start behaving in a manner that is appropriate in a normal work environment. If they expect to be paid the sort of money they justify to themselves by claiming they are highly skilled professionals, start behaving like it!

If it is merely a game and not a profession, then pay them commensurate salaries. And if it is only a game, why get so hot under the collar then? After all, it’s only a game isn’t it? Cricketers can’t have it both ways – it’s either a profession where professional courtesies apply or it’s a game where sportsmanship should take precedence. Or just dispense with all such notions, call it “open warfare” and don’t bother with any pretentions of honouring the Spirit of Cricket.

Some of the blame can be leveled at the match officials. If Billy Bowden spent less time trying to be the centre of attention and concentrated on keeping order and making better on-field decisions, some of the tension might have been dissipated. Instead of waiting for Gambhir to complain to the umpires about the ‘chat’, why didn’t Bowden nip it in the bud? It makes it very difficult for Gambhir to complain to the umpires. He would no doubt cop the usual vitriol about “being soft, being a cry baby, go and tell Mummy that we’re being mean to you”.

The umpires and match referee were obviously aware of the tension that was building up and the verbals that were being exchanged by both teams. That much is clear from Chris Broad’s acceptance that Gambhir had been subjected to a certain level of provocation. Well, if they were aware of a storm brewing, why didn’t they do something about it? Perhaps they don’t have the authority to do anything until it becomes a full-blown incident. And then see what happens….

The ICC should take a firm stance on what’s acceptable conduct in a highly visible public workplace. The players should take a look in the mirror and start behaving like the highly skilled professionals they claim to be. And the umpires and match referee need to have the conviction and commonsense to prevent fires rather than dousing flames or punishing arsonists.

Until all the stakeholders in the game take some of this responsibility upon themselves, the Spirit of Cricket will remain an empty epithet, devoid of any real meaning. There can be no such thing as an “acceptable level of sledging”. What’s acceptable to one person may not be acceptable to another. Furthermore, what’s tolerable one day may be insufferable the next day, even to the same person. Where do you draw the line before somebody snaps?

The tragedy is that it leads to the situation where a double centurion, in the form of his life, misses the final Test match with the series in the balance. Regardless of who you support, that can’t be good for the Spirit of Cricket.

	Stand your ground, let the umpire decide © AFP

One of the great ironies of last season was one of Cricket Australia’s biggest sponsors, a famous Scotch whiskey brand, continuing to remind us to “Keep walking”. At a time when the Andrew Symonds incident in the acrimonious Sydney Test caused so much controversy and debate over the issue of ‘walking’, the regular advertisements from this sponsor is an unfortunate reminder that cricketers themselves might prefer a clear universal policy on the issue.

After the Test Match in Mohali last week, one can only hope that this bone of contention is well and truly buried. Forever. Never to be exhumed.

When Virender Sehwag exercised his right to remain at the crease and leave the decision to the umpire, after clearly edging the ball to Brad Haddin, it brought the whole debate full circle. This time it was an indignant Australia at the receiving end of a poor decision and an Indian batsman who relinquished the moral high ground for the pragmatism of professional cricket.

What is patently clear now is cricket at this level should rid itself of the sentimental and hypocritical double-standards that threaten to seriously undermine the spirit of the game. All cricketers should simply acknowledge this is now a full-time job, played for high stakes and completely devoid of any sentimentality or chivalry. Nothing wrong with that.

Let’s just agree to leave all decisions to the umpires and accept the good and bad calls with equal grace. On that basis, things should even themselves out in the long run and we can hopefully avoid the hypocrisy and bad blood that usually occurs when different players (and different countries) get reputations for doing one or the other.

If this new philosophy is adopted by all players, we will avoid the ridiculous situation where players like Ricky Ponting start questioning the integrity of someone like Sehwag who chose to let the umpire make the decision. It’s laughable for Australia (or any country for that matter) to sledge a batsman for not walking. Australia have made it clear that walking is not part of their cricket culture so why the moral outrage?

Similarly, from India’s perspective (and all other countries), no one should find fault with Sehwag so long as they relinquish all pretences of occupying the moral high ground when an Australian player nicks one and doesn’t walk. It’s equally laughable to hear people still whining about the Symonds incident when it is now clear that Australians are not the only ones who leave it to the umpire. There will inevitably be the childish comments like “they started it, they did it first” etc but how far do you go back to work out who started what? It’s a pointless historical exercise, trying to figure out who did it first. We've all been guilty of it at various times in our cricketing history.

Crucial to this new agreement should be a more public respect for the umpire’s decision, good or bad. We’ll never lose that first flash of disappointment that is instinctive and human but we could do without the prolonged head-shaking and tantrums that are clearly meant to publicly undermine the umpire. Not unless we allow umpires to start high-fiving each other every time they make a correct decision.

Walking was an admirable trait in the gentleman’s game but it is no longer that. It is essentially (sadly) a business now and regrettably, there seems to be little room for such luxuries in cut-throat commerce. Especially when someone like Gilchrist is inevitably going to be accused for appealing for catches that are clearly not-out. Apart from the odd time when he was genuinely uncertain, what is the difference between always walking when you nick it (honesty) and opportunistic appealing when someone has missed the ball (dishonesty)? Selective honesty (or accusations of) just creates unnecessary tension.

As we saw in Sydney 2008, one such incident leads to bad blood and sledging that keeps escalating to the point where it becomes personal and triggers a major diplomatic war. Players seem to have the knack of putting on an instant poker face, devoid of emotion when they get a good decision so I'm sure they can do the same when they cop a bad one too. Then there will be no need for all the indignant ‘chat’ that accompanies a Symonds/Sehwag type moment. Instead of the “keep walking” slogan, we might one day find a sponsor with a theme of “no walk, no talk”.

	Did Shane Watson face "friendly banter" or a "verbal barrage"? © Getty Images

The headline writer in The Australian today (20 October) is clearly on a mission to secure a posting as Chief Minister of Propaganda. An article by Malcolm Conn, describing the events of the third day’s play from Mohali was headlined as “India’s verbal barrage as Watson fights lone hand".

What makes this headline even more disgraceful is that Watson is later quoted in the piece as saying it was nothing more than “friendly banter”. How that sort of direct quote can be turned into a headline that talks about a ‘verbal barrage’ is laughable, especially from a newspaper that purports to be a serious broadsheet.

The online version of the same article has a much more sober heading, presumably because the international audience that might access the Internet would see through the shameful jingoism that the hard copy readers in Australia are expected to stomach. The full article can be seen here.

This is the sort of rubbish that is served up as intelligent fare for cricket followers in Australia, trying to follow a gripping Test match between two evenly matched teams. The hypocrisy is breath-taking. I have never seen a similar headline in the last 20 years when most of the verbal barrage, distinctly ‘unfriendly banter’, has been dished out by the Australians. Even when opposition players, clearly not as sanguine about it as Watson and Lee clearly were, complained about being verbally intimidated, no one ever really described it in such negative language.

Take for example this quote from today’s article: “That India felt it necessary to so strongly verbal the Australians when so far in front suggests how desperate they are to regain the Border-Gavaskar Trophy”.

Contrast this with everything Watson says in his interview and the actual footage from what took place. That little excerpt could well be re-written to say “that an Australian journalist felt it necessary to misrepresent the facts when so far behind suggests how desperate we are to find something negative to write about India when they are clearly on top”.

I watched every ball of that absorbing middle session when Lee and Watson battled it out against some high quality bowling and it was nothing more than competitive cricket between grown men who clearly knew where to draw the line. There were smiles all round and nothing appeared to get out of hand. Why Rudi Koetzen and Asad Rauf felt the need to intervene to calm things down remains a mystery. You don’t often see that sort of intervention when Australia is serving it up. Why intervene now? Watson himself actually said it was “enjoyable”.

Earlier in the Test, another news report made much of Koetzen’s umpiring blunder when he failed to call for the third umpire to rule on Sourav Ganguly’s stumping on the first day. No mention whatsoever of the Watson lbw yesterday off Ishant Sharma. Obviously umpiring errors that favour Australia are not worthy of mention. Tell the masses what they want to hear and don’t let the truth get in the way of a good propaganda story. That will ensure the loyal readers keep coming back for more!

The Australian cricketers themselves (Sydney 2008 notwithstanding) are usually more than happy to engage in friendly banter. They’re not the ones complaining about Test cricket that’s played hard and fair. As cricketers who are prepared to dish it out, they are equally capable of taking it on the chin when the tables are turned. In fact, I don’t think that tactic really works on Australian cricketers because it makes them fight even harder but that’s not a can of worms I want to open up again!

It will be interesting to see the local headlines in Australia if India wins this Test. Perhaps there won’t be any headlines at all – we might get full coverage of Bangladesh’s unlikely (probable) victory over New Zealand instead. After all, if the newspapers don’t report it, we can always pretend it never happened!

	Tendulkar and Lara: Two great sportsmen who are truly worthy of global admiration © Getty Images

The great thing about watching Sachin Tendulkar pass Brian Lara was the sense that both men transcend national loyalties. In a world full of false heroes, here are two great sportsmen who are truly worthy of global admiration.

Both great batsmen have enjoyed long careers based on quiet dignity and enormous respect from their own peers. In some senses, this is the real barometer because the only people who really know the full story tend to be those who watched them in battle - team-mates, opponents, umpires, media and support staff. In the case of Tendulkar and Lara, it’s hard to find examples of too many character assassinations from people who know them well.

The consistency of their character over a long career is what stands out. It’s often said that Reputation and Character are twin brothers who were separated at birth but will eventually meet up again sometime in their lives. And when they do reunite, they will be equal.

When genius is hailed so publicly at an early age, Reputation is always the older brother, shaping destinies even before careers begin. Character would naturally have to follow, judged by history and constant public scrutiny. Character is not what other people think about you – it is who you really are deep inside. Many people with great reputations haven’t got the character to match and when the two brothers eventually meet, Reputation is dragged down to the level of truth to where Character lives his real life. Not so for these two gentlemen.

Lara battled demons midway through his career but he finished off like any great champion, rarely embroiled in unseemly on-field altercations. It was almost like he refused to stoop down to that level. His consistency of behaviour over a long career cannot be faulted. He walked 100% of the time when he nicked it and rarely showed public displays of petulance when he got bad decisions. I cannot recall a genuine public tantrum.

Likewise Tendulkar – for a man who has carried the weight of a country for so long on his shoulders, for a man who has had to live most of his life in a goldfish bowl, his public persona is faultless. His on-field behaviour has always been dignified and classy. In life itself, I can’t recall a single incident when he lost his cool or put himself in a situation which he later regretted. For someone who has had to cope with that amount of public scrutiny, that is truly remarkable. How many other celebrities can claim that sort of public record? His celebrity status has gone far beyond Indian boundaries and yet, his global appeal defies the usual jingoistic prejudices.

On the bowling side of the record-breaking fence, Muttiah Muralidaran shares a similar pedigree. His constant smile and unblemished disciplinary record over a long career speaks volumes for the strength of his character. He has had to endure some very public humiliations that would have broken lesser men but somewhere, deep in his soul, he has found an inner-strength that has sustained him through the nightmares. Like Lara and Tendulkar, Murali too seems to be hugely respected by the cricketing community all over the world. How many other great international players can claim that? Adam Gilchrist is one name that instantly comes to mind.

The two brothers, Reputation and Character have indeed found each other in these remarkable men. In looking for reasons why, we may well discover that Dignity and Integrity were their common parents.

	Howzat for an answer, Virender? © Getty Images

Indians, more than anyone else, should know the dangers of pulling a tiger by the tail. It's predictable the reaction will be savage.

There’s a lot to like about Virender Sehwag. He seems to be someone who plays instinctively and with wonderful timing. He doesn’t seem overly weighed down by the pressures of being an Indian cricketer, revered (and sometimes reviled) by millions. His inflammatory comments about the 2008 Sydney Test may have been instinctive but for once, his timing let him down.

I say that for purely pragmatic reasons. I’m not going to debate that fateful Test because the wounds are still raw on all sides and I don;t see any point in exhuming that corpse. Which is why I’m surprised that Sehwag picked this week to prise open that coffin.

Anyone who thinks these mind games upset Australian cricketers, especially someone like Ricky Ponting, has not done their homework. Ponting is a good enough player without providing him with any extra motivation. Sehwag’s ill-timed barb virtually guaranteed Ponting would do what Aussies do best - grit their teeth and prove a point.

It’s hard to believe Sehwag didn’t stop to think about everything he has learned over the years about Australians in general and Ponting in particular. To make it to the top, they have learned to be incredibly mentally tough and resilient. They thrive on proving people wrong. Club cricket, even at junior level, is based on that culture. If you don’t survive that constant pressure, you simply don’t make it to the top. Simple as that.

Australians deliberately use that strategy for self-motivation. The famous story about Allan Border and Dean Jones in the Tied Test of 1986 is a classic example. Border goaded Jones into playing one of the most courageous innings in cricket history by telling him that if he wasn’t tough enough, he’d get a Queenslander (Greg Ritchie) to bat instead.

Even in his anger, Jones knew exactly why Border had made that comment and yet, he couldn’t help but prove his own captain wrong. Even though he adored Border. Even if it almost cost him his life. That’s so typical of the way Australian sport is played. It’s the easiest psychological trick in the book.

Border himself often used that weapon on himself. He often tells of instances when he would deliberately provoke a confrontation in order to get embroiled in a battle that helped him raise his game. It was a well known fact that if you wanted to get him cheaply, you didn’t sledge him.

I remember batting with him in an A-Grade club match. He was batting fairly loosely until a brash young fast bowler mouthed off at him and questioned his courage. Bad move – the transformation was instantaneous and AB even threatened me with dire consequences if I threw my wicket away. I saw a lazy pussycat become a snarling tiger in front of my eyes.

That’s why it’s difficult to understand what Sehwag was trying to achieve. It was exactly what Ponting and his team wanted to hear. Coming on top of his much celebrated poor record in India, this was all Ponting needed to seal the deal. Thank you Sehwag, thank you Indian media, thanks for coming. A Ponting century, gift wrapped and delivered to the team hotel in Bangalore!

The Aussies are too smart to fall for that sort of trick themselves. They rarely target Tendulkar, Lara or Dravid in this way. They understand their opponent and play the man accordingly. With Sourav Ganguly or Graeme Smith or Darryl Cullinan, they deliberately change their mode of attack. It is calculated, deliberate and individualised. It is a team plan that is executed down to the last detail. Even club cricket is played with these individual plans for different opponents. And no one deviates from the agreed strategy.

Perhaps Sehwag was merely executing an Indian team plan. Perhaps he was the nominated bait to flush the tiger into the open. If that was the case, it was stunningly naïve. Ponting has proven, time and again, that he thrives under pressure and performs when it matters most. His record in big games is immense and he prides himself on leading from the front. He said as much after the warm-up game in Hyderabad and perhaps he was trying hard to convince himself. Then along came Sehwag and pulled the tiger’s tail. The rest is history.

	Australia will no longer have the luxury of attack, attack, attack. Ricky Ponting will be forced to employ defensive fields with sweepers in place from the outset © AFP

Finally, a look at what Australia’s world will look like after Warne, McGrath and Gilchrist. All three men were ‘once-in-a-generation’ players. Australia were indeed blessed to have them all playing together. Especially when you add the other great names of that period.

That golden era is about to end I’m afraid. The two alpha predators of the jungle are about to face off and that aura of invincibility is no longer the birthright of the next generation of players to don the famous baggy green. Don’t get me wrong – they will be competitive of course and they will probably win more matches than they lose. But they will need to change their hunting style to suit their strengths. There will be change.

The biggest change we’re likely to see is a more defensive and more pragmatic approach in the field. Australia used to pride itself on entering every single Test match with the sole intention of winning it. Playing for the draw was the fallback position, employed as a last resort when every avenue of winning had been exhausted. It was this sort of attitude, combined with a powerful talent pool that revolutionised modern cricket. The only teams that occasionally beat Australia during this period were the ones prepared to adopt similar tactics. England’s Ashes triumph in 2005 was the blueprint that other teams will now need to follow.

South Africa – for some inexplicable reason, they went into each series against Australia with a plan to first secure a safe position and then press on for a win if the opportunity presented itself. Against the top predator, such timidity rarely brought rewards. In very simplistic National Geographic terms, the Aussies were like a pride of lions, taking on prey head-on and making big kills. The rewards were worth the odd botched hunt. The South Africans reminded me of hyenas, highly efficient and tireless, nipping away at the heels, waiting for a moment of weakness and then darting in for a slow kill if the opportunity presented itself.

In India next week, I suspect that analogy will no longer apply. With arguably one of the weakest spin attacks in world cricket at the moment, Australia will no longer have the luxury of attack, attack, attack. Ponting will be forced to employ defensive fields with sweepers in place from the outset. It will be fascinating to see how the team reacts to this new philosophy and to see if affects their natural aggression in the field. It’s going to be a lot harder to mentally dominate the inner-circle when half the fielders are in the deep and someone like Sehwag or Tendulkar are in full flow on home pitches.

It is this facet of the game that will provide some riveting viewing. It will give Australia a glimpse of what the next decade is going to be like until they find another Warne or McGrath. They have been so used to dominating the opposition and creating an aura around the crease which resulted in a ‘bubble’ that simultaneously hypnotised and intimidated. The combined pressure of accurate bowling, great catching and constant ‘chat’ around the bat was a powerful cocktail that had a crippling effect. It’s a lot harder to sustain that pressure in searing Indian heat with the score on 4-320, four fielders in the deep, no close-in catcher and a passionate home crowd egging Tendulkar on with Jason Krezja and Cameron White bowling in tandem.

The Australian batting still looks deep enough to match India’s class but will their psyche be affected by the knowledge that the bowlers don’t have the firepower? It’s easy to bat freely and aggressively when you know you’ve got 700+ Test wickets in the bowling arsenal. The current attack, Brett Lee apart, looks decidedly vulnerable to a blistering counter-attack from someone like Sehwag or Dhoni. Or liable to be worn down by a Dravid epic.

The big question of course is whether India will be comfortable with being the team that has to now make the running instead of reacting to it. Will that affect their mindset? If Australia sense that India are not quite ready to storm the fortress, they might just live to fight another day. Like any lion pride, there comes a moment when the challenger senses a genuine opportunity and this may be one such moment in history. That moment will arrive when the Aussie spinners come on to bowl – India’s reaction will tell us all if they are lions or hyenas.

	Matthew Hayden uses the sweep shot as a weapon © AFP

The subcontinent used to be a graveyard for so many visiting teams but ever since the sweep shot was seen as the answer to local conditions, the game has changed significantly. Watch these next two series in India (vs Australia and England) and see how regularly the shot is used as an offensive and defensive ploy against the Indian spinners.

Australia’s recent successes against the Asian teams, especially in the subcontinent, rely heavily on their mastery of the sweep shot. Against good spinners on tracks that don’t bounce as much, their use of the sweep has probably been the biggest tactical change in the last decade.

Matthew Hayden and Adam Gilchrist use it as weapon – not just a gentle paddle for one, they employ the shot as a boundary-seeking missile. Because they sweep on length, rather than line, their powerful physiques enable them to hit the ball well in front of square, often finding the boundary at ‘cow corner’. Phil Jacques too sweeps in front of square, almost a slog sweep. Steve Waugh’s legacy lives on.

For Ricky Ponting however, the sweep doesn’t seem to be a natural shot. He tends to paddle the ball round the corner and has been known to top edge the ball to short fine-leg. Perhaps this explains his poor results in India although his record against Sri Lanka is pretty decent. It’s their standard tactic against Muttiah Muralitharan.

The fact that they can sweep over wide midwicket (instead of the traditional sweep to backward square-leg) means that the captain has to now employ two men in the deep, possibly having to dispense with a close-in fielder or someone at square-leg to stop the easy push for a single. It is a deliberate ploy, practised endlessly and used as the preferred way to rotate strike. It is a team tactic and even the tail-enders are taught to play the shot properly.

Not that Australia have been the only team to use this against subcontinental opposition. Graham Gooch played a brilliant innings against India in the semi-final of the 1987 World Cup, sweeping Maninder Singh and Ravi Shastri to distraction in a famous victory.

	The reverse-sweep was once a novelty, not any more © AFP

Hansie Cronje used the slog sweep to great effect against Shane Warne in 1993/94 in Australia but inexplicably, the South Africans rarely used that ploy against him later. Jonty Rhodes was born with a broom in his hand but not many other South African batsmen swept Warne consistently. Perhaps the extra bounce on Australian/African pitches made it a riskier shot.

Allan Border was a great exponent of the shot but he tended to look for a single rather than the big boundary hit. England used the sweep shot against Pakistan in 2000 and again in Sri Lanka in 2001, led by Nasser Hussain who favoured that approach against the likes of Saqlain Mushtaq, Mustaq Ahmed and Murali. England won both those series, against all odds.

Indian batsmen however seem to use the shot more sparingly and more as a way to rotate strike rather than hit boundaries. Sachin Tendulkar and Virender Sehwag have had their moments when they’ve slog swept Warne and Murali out of the ground but one doesn’t tend to see it so much from great players of spin like Mohammed Azharuddin, Rahul Dravid and VVS Laxman. I wonder why? There must be a good reason for that. All three are very wristy players so perhaps there’s a common theme in those cases.

Left-handers seem to favour the shot more than most. Saurav Ganguly and Gautam Gamhir are good exponents of the shot. Arjuna Ranatunga, Marcus Trescothick, Brian Lara, Andy Flower and Saeed Anwar were regular subscribers to the club. Maybe this is because so many right-arm bowlers seem to be pitching the ball just outside leg stump which takes the lbw out of the equation. It will be interesting now to see if the third umpire referral system changes that bias. Perhaps more lefties will be given out lbw on video replay. It’s a tough decision for the naked eye to give out at first look.

My prediction is that this series, and England’s tour to India, will be a 'sweep-fest'. The batsmen who execute the shot best, including the reverse-sweep (which is no longer a novelty shot) will determine the course of the series. It will be fascinating to see how the bowling captain sets his field to counter a shot that covers so much territory, from wide mid-on to a very fine-leg.

Australia leaves for a much-anticipated tour of India. Awakening from a rare winter solstice, there’s a real sense of anticipation. Australian cricket fans needed this (relatively) long break from cricket to re-ignite their interest in a game that was becoming all-too-predictable because of their continued dominance for so long.

The series against the West Indies barely registered on the radar, a combination of inconvenient time zones and an almost foregone conclusion. Bangladesh registered no real interest whatsoever, once again a victim of a remote location (Darwin), football finals fever and not even the hint of a genuine contest.

The India series though is an entirely different kettle of fish (with apologies to Symonds for mentioning fish). Almost every club cricket fan I have met recently has been talking about what the make-up of the team will be and who will win. I haven’t heard this sort of excited chatter for a long time. It’s infectious. And fun.

Part of that anticipation is undoubtedly a sense of unfinished business (from both sets of supporters). The events of last summer are not yet buried and injustices, perceived or real, provide that bit of extra needle. No sense denying the obvious.

The real interest though lies in the realisation that this trophy is up for grabs. Not for a long time has Australia gone into a Test series feeling they have to fight tooth and nail to merely scrape home. Any team that no longer has the combined firepower of Warne, McGrath and Gilchrist is entitled to feel nervous. When you add Hayden’s uncertain injury status, Symonds’ absence and a inexperienced spin bowling attack against the best players of spin on Indian pitches, there is every reason for Australia to covet the underdog tag and take the pressure off themselves.

It is this sort of unknown territory that is suddenly becoming BBQ conversation in Brisbane backyards. Will our ageing (but highly credentialed) batting line up still be able to score big scores at over 4 runs per over? Will we ever find another Gilchrist at No 7? No one really expects the spinners to dominate the series but the hope is that they will be able to play their part in neutralizing the Indian batting order whilst Lee, Clarke and Johnson can reverse swing the old ball on abrasive pitches.

Australian fans also know that India too face their own demons when it comes to picking the right moment to blood youth. It’s a fascinating question to ask from afar. Will India have the guts to dispense with loyal servants like Dravid, Laxman and Ganguly in a big series like this? Or will they take the soft (safer) option of experimenting with youth at a later date when the stakes are not that high? The general consensus is that India will choose the more conservative approach and opt for the tried and tested warriors. There’s a sense that India will simply not have the courage to make wholesale changes just yet.

And why shouldn’t they? India are entitled to pick their best team to win this series. Let the future look after itself. We’re a pragmatic bunch over here and fully understand that winning this trophy is more important to India than looking too far into the future. That’s what makes these conversations so interesting….I can’t remember the last time we dissected and debated an opposition team’s selections so closely. It’s a reflection of the level of interest that is being generated.

The fact that there will be no ODI’s actually adds to the excitement I believe. It’s almost like stepping back in time. Stripping cricket back to its original roots – Test match cricket, played hard, played fair and may the best man win. No distractions, no excuses, no surrender.

It’s a reflection of India’s strength that the Border-Gavaskar Trophy is now assuming the level of status that used to be reserved for The Ashes and the Frank Worrell Trophy. This is a piece of silverware that Australia treasures.

It would be interesting to know if anyone from outside Australia, and not just India, is taking a close interest in this fascinating contest that looms. In an era of mismatches, this one shapes as a genuine 50/50 proposition. That has to be good for cricket.

Can't wait ...

	Put simply, it’s hard to dislike Andrew Flintoff © Getty Images

From an Australian viewpoint, they don’t come much better than Freddie Flintoff. If the Brits were feeling particularly generous, they might even consider making him an honorary Aussie! We’d love to claim him.

Seriously though, it’s great to see the old Flintoff back in full swing. It’s not just his talent that stands out a mile - to me, Flintoff stands for everything that is good about cricket. He’s almost an Errol Flynn-type character.

Buccaneering - now there’s a word that one doesn’t often get to use in modern language but it was made for a chap like Flintoff. He’s not perfect, he gets into the odd scrape and he occasionally plays a daft shot at a crucial time. Even then, he disarms people with his slightly sheepish grin and his refusal to take life too seriously. There’s a hint of Ian Botham in him in that sense. Cricket seems to be a bit of a lark to him and his persona is infectious. Put simply, it’s hard to dislike Flintoff.

I’m not sure about other parts of the cricketing world but I get the distinct impression that Australians have a soft spot for players like him. They must, first and foremost, earn respect for their on-field skills and Freddie seems to have done that. His lion-hearted performances in the 2005 Ashes as well as some brave, lone bowling spells in the 2006-07 series makes him stand out. To a certain extent, Kevin Pietersen too is a popular figure here for similar reasons.

What makes Flintoff really stand out though is his wonderful ability to play the game “hard but fair”. It’s a term that is terribly overused and often in entirely the wrong context. Hard but fair is not about mouthing crude obscenities on the field, having a beer in the dressing room and then turning on the abuse again next morning. That’s just a winner’s definition of the term. Players like Flintoff and Brett Lee seem to have found that wonderful balance of giving nothing short of 100% with ball or bat in hand but stop short of crossing that fine line that separates competitiveness from boorishness.

Both Flintoff and Lee may have been a bit less so in their youth but that’s just part of growing up. Lance Klusener too finished his career giving the impression of someone who put cricket in perspective. In the modern game, Mike Hussey, Dwayne Bravo, Shane Bond, Kumar Sangakkara and Virender Sehwag appear to have similar sunny dispositions. It could be an elaborate disguise but one hopes not. They all seem genuinely likeable characters.

Back to Flintoff though - he just seems to exude a boyish charm that makes it difficult to dislike him, even in the middle of a hostile spell. Watching him against South Africa recently, he beat batsmen with snorting deliveries and realised the moral victory was his without having to rub it in. When he took a wicket, the celebrations seemed more inward-focused than a triumphalist humiliation of the batsman. Job done - no need to send them off with a cowardly gesture. When he smashed a boundary, he sported a cheeky grin rather than an aggressive fist in the air. It was almost like a schoolboy who’s found a dollar coin in the gutter. He’ll claim it but is almost sheepish about his good fortune.

Lee shares a lot in common with Flintoff - by all accounts, they are both popular figures, even amongst opponents. Every country has these players - genuine ‘nice guys’ who seem to still treat international cricket with that touch of irreverence. Deadly serious competitors but they just know where to draw that line. It’s too easy to focus on those who cross that line and bring the game into disrepute but with a big man like Flintoff, one can only hope that he becomes a hero to more than just British kids. In fact, sometimes, Flintoff acts like a kid himself, kicking up his heels and celebrating simple pleasures, even at his own expense.

At a time when some other notable players are battling demons, Flintoff just seems to be revelling in being back on the park again. A fit and happy Freddy is not just good for England but he’s great for cricket full stop. So long as he retires before the next Ashes.

	Will Symonds walk out on his Cricket Australia contract? © Getty Images

Will he or won’t he? Brisbane’s newspapers and airwaves seem to be full of conjecture about whether Andrew Symonds will walk away from his Cricket Australia contract or not. Public opinion is surprisingly split - a local newspaper poll had a rough 50-50 response as to whether he deserved his Darwin punishment or not.

For someone like me who works in the area of “elite athlete welfare”, the Symonds incident is all-too-common, not just in cricket and not just in Australia. It is a product of a sporting landscape that takes young people away from the things that ‘ground’ them and offers them fame and riches without necessarily checking to see if they have the support structure around them to help them deal with it.

Symonds is a classic example of someone with all the talent in the world. On the field, bat in hand or patrolling the deep, he is a powerful panther-like figure, supremely balanced. Yet, “balanced” would be the one thing that seems furthest from his life at the moment. Brisbane is a small town and for someone working in my field, the stories of lives in the balance tend to reach you weeks before it blows up in the media. It was not a closely guarded secret that Symonds was finding it difficult to reconcile the double life of being one of the most marketable athletes in the country with his own private desire to be left alone to enjoy the simple and savage pleasures of a life in the bush. He is not alone in feeling this sense of isolation.

Brian Lara faced his demons a decade ago. More recently, Marcus Trescothick and Shaun Tait have been forced out of the international game for similar reasons. Like Symonds, they are not bad men. Just confused and alienated, owing their fame, fortune and disenchantment to the same mistress.

International cricket is going to face this situation increasingly more often I fear. Australian cricket especially, just seeing the end of the first generation of ‘career cricketers’ (since the game went fully professional at first-class level in the late 1990s) is going to have to deal with young men who have made a life out of cricket but may not have a life outside of cricket. It is a poignant difference.

For three years, I helped look after the cricketers who were coming through the Centre of Excellence (formerly Cricket Academy) who were resident on campus at Griffith University. To their credit, Cricket Australia runs some excellent educational programs to help these cricketers with life skills, not just cricket ones. I witnessed many young men who realised that cricket was a precious gift and they treated it as such. There were also a small minority who treated their talent as a birthright. Cricket owed them but they never saw that it could also own them.

These young stars of the future are acutely aware of their earning potential. It is a ‘front-end loaded’ career that promises great wealth. Some of them, sadly, never grasp the complexity of the symbiotic relationship between talent, commercial success, sponsorships, media attention and ultimately, a loss of privacy.

Put simply, one cannot expect to volunteer for a life in the spotlight (note, I deliberately said “volunteer”) and then expect a life of relative anonymity whenever it suits. Any celebrity will tell you that. The minute you cash those cheques, you agree to a life as more than just an on-field gladiator. There is no such thing as a free lunch. Sponsors can be ruthless paymasters.

It is this sort of attention that threatens to end the career of a wonderful cricketer. By all accounts, Symonds just wants to be left alone to hunt pigs, catch fish and hit big sixes. Perhaps he never quite understood that life in the spotlight is not that simple. By virtue of his aura and presence, sought by advertisers and seduced by managers, Symonds is now public property. He is not the first sports star to resent that. He won’t be the last.

The word on the streets of Brisbane is that this is no ransom note or false alarm. His confusion is genuine and his anger at being dropped from the Australian team is very real. No one knows whether he will walk away or return to thrill us again. He’s a special talent and will be a loss to the game. He needs a good friend whom he trusts to remind him that there will always be plenty of fish in the sea but his career needn’t sink to the bottom of the ocean just yet.

In a recent post, we explored the issue of some cricketers transcending national loyalties and being embraced by the cricket world in general. In this respect, Sir Don Bradman is probably the only one that has unequivocally achieved that status. Perhaps Sir Garfield Sobers approaches that level of worship but even his considerable aura doesn't hold a candle to The Don.

At a time when we are reminded that the great man narrowly missed out more than one triple figure landmark, averaging 99 with the bat and a mere 92 in life, Australia has been reminiscing about his achievements and trying to get a handle on "just how good was he?"

Most cricketers seem to acknowledge that his status as The Greatest Ever is unquestioned. Neil Harvey seemed to think that in the modern era, The Don would average 199.9 whilst others, less prone to getting carried away have merely reiterated the theory that he would still be a stand-out figure in any age.

We'll never know. How good was he? Twice as good as everyone else? Twice as good as those he played against or twice as good as anyone he'll come across in the modern game? Trying to transplant Bradman's genius on to the contemporary stage is an impossible task but it makes for some interesting debating points.

The Bradman fans, of which there are many, argue that he was so far ahead of his time that he would undoubtedly have coped with the more athletic demands of today's game. With better equipment, sports science, coaching and pitches, Bradman would have dominated like no other. He was as brilliant as he was allowed to be, as he needed to be, to stand tall in his era. Like any great athlete, they are utterly convinced that he would have continued to distinguish himself from the mere mortals of the game.

Yet, there are others, slightly more pragmatic and perhaps a bit less seduced by the romanticism of the legend of Bradman, who concede that he may not necessarily rule the roost to that extent. They point to a number of factors that may bring Bradman back to the field if he were still plying his trade today. The quality of fielding is obviously a factor.

Most reasonable observers would probably agree that the standard of fielding and catching has improved enormously, and continues to make quantum leaps. These days, most international cricketers are athletes. They chase down the boundaries instead of trotting off amiably behind another Bradman shot. That's a lot of runs saved, a lot more runs that Bradman would have had to score to average 99.

Less clear cut is the question of whether the quality of bowling has improved. Archival footage is inconclusive. Certainly, Tyson and Trueman were fast but how many other genuine quicks were around. Were there any Warnes or Murali's around to baffle him with spin? Bradman never faced O'Reilly in Test cricket. Were the wicketkeepers as agile and skilled?

Certainly there were less teams so much fewer opponents but on the flip side, less soft runs to be had against mediocre attacks too. These days, perhaps the video analysis would have led to a more thorough breakdown of his weaknesses (did he have any?) and perhaps, Bodyline might not have been viewed with remotely the same horror. Would he have made the adjustment and disposed of the great West Indian pace quartets of the 70s and 80s? Would he have dealt with Wasim Akram's reverse swing or Murali's doosra? We'll never know.

It's a question that is fascinating but only in an academic sense. We know he was good, bloody good, but just how good?

I can't verify the accuracy of this story but I've heard it told a few times so perhaps there is a grain of truth to it. Apparently when Bradman was asked to address the 1992 World Cup team, one of the young Australians (attributed toTom Moody) asked of him: "If you played against England today, do you still think you would have averaged 99?". Modest to a fault, Bradman replied "of course not. I'd be lucky to even average 50". Shocked by this, the same player stammered "but Sir, how can you say possibly say that? I mean, you were the greatest of all time and you don't think you'd average even 50 today? The English attack isn't that strong". The Don smiled gently and allegedly said "son, don't forget, I'm 83 years old now".

That's how good he was!

	Brian Lara's unique back lift and penchant for huge scores, married to a complex personality and a reputation for honouring the spirit of cricket makes him one of cricket’s unforgettable memories © AFP

If the 1990s is to be remembered as the era of the great spin bowlers, the next eight years must surely belong to the wicketkeepers. Ian Healy and Jeff Dujon could never have imagined that their legacy has been embraced by the next generation who have turned that position into a genuine all-rounder role. Just about every country, England and West Indies notwithstanding, have a wicketkeeper who now wins matches regularly by his batting alone. Even trawling through the history books, I can’t remember an era when that was the case.

The decade began with the scandals involving Hansie Cronje and Mohammad Azharuddin. It brought home the dangers of a game that was in some sense a victim of its own television popularity. With so many meaningless ODI tournaments being televised around the world, it was a fertile environment for a particular type of gambling that allowed players to perhaps comfort themselves that they weren’t actually throwing a match. They were merely engineering a small period of play within the context of a longer game. Or so they believed.

We also saw the emergence of an opening partnership to match the Greenidge-Haynes combination, perhaps even surpass those statistics. Matthew Hayden and Justin Langer took aggressive opening batting to new heights and with players of the calibre of Ricky Ponting (and others), Australia remain market leaders in most aspects of the game.

Speaking of partnerships, we saw the great Dravid-Laxman effort in Kolkata which was on a par with the Gilchrist-Langer effort in Hobart 1999. Brian Lara and Hayden traded world record scores, Muttiah Muralitharan and Shane Warne traded bowling records while Brett Lee and Shoaib Akhtar started hitting speeds that hadn’t been touched for 30 years. It just seemed like a decade of high octane, high performance events that kept coming. Players from all around the world seemed to be treating statistics and records as a personal challenge. Even hat-tricks seem to happen more regularly these days.

Technology has played a major role in this decade too. History will show that innovations like HawkEye and the recent third umpire referrals had a profound effect on the game. Even in coaching circles, software analysis is now considered to be an indispensable part of a dressing-room environment. It’s barely a sport anymore, more like a scientific laboratory that produces F1 racing cars - fast, exciting and highly tuned machines!

There are too many wonderful players to mention in a short article like this, lest anyone take offence at notable omissions. It would not be proper to allow the retirement of one Brian Lara to go unmentioned though. That unique back lift and penchant for huge individual scores, married to a complex personality and a fantastic reputation for honouring the spirit of cricket makes him one of cricket’s most unforgettable memories. The decade marked the retirement of his notable peers too. The Waugh twins, Inzamam Ul Haq, Wasim Akram, Glenn McGrath, Shane Warne, Allan Donald, Shaun Pollock, Aravinda De Silva – where do we draw the line? I can think of a dozen more great names.

On-field, cricket is a strong product. In the boardrooms and corridors of power though, there are serious geopolitical issues that remain unresolved. Allowed to fester, they may yet unravel the wonderful entertainment spectacle that is the modern game. From the IPL and T20 cricket to the status of Zimbabwe to the possible boycott of the 2008 Champions Trophy, these are all issues that need strong leadership by the ‘suits’. They need to be reminded that behind the accountants and television executives, there are now millions of global cricket fans who simply want to see the best cricketers in earnest competition with each other.

The two World Cups of this decade were pretty uninspiring events but that is not Australia’s fault. They have been simply superb in big tournaments, having not lost a World Cup game since May 23 1999. The onus is on the challengers to breathe new life into a tired format because after that terrible farce in the dark of Barbados in 2007, it was Australia first and daylight second. Well, twilight anyway!

	I'm sure many Indians loved watching Wasim Akram whilst at the same time cursing him for every Indian wicket he ripped out © Getty Images

Depending on what happens over the Champions Trophy, cricket fans might soon be part of a political game of tit-for-tat which will have one common casualty - watching the best players from all over the world in action.

Since Bradman became the first global colossus of the game, we've seen a few players who have been adopted by genuine fans who can truly put aside their loyalties and simply recognise wonderful cricketers for what they are. In my lifetime, I immediately think of players like Shane Warne, Adam Gilchrist, Sachin Tendulkar, Brian Lara, Muttiah Muralitharan, Michael Holding and Malcolm Marshall. I'm sure other readers will have their own favourites from countries other than a blind allegiance to their own.

IPL may represent a watershed in this regard. A bit like what county cricket did for the great West Indians, Pakistanis and other overseas players, IPL's model of bringing the great players of the modern era to Indian franchises and global television coverage will hopefully bring about a cultural shift in the minds of cricket fans all around the world. Imagine a team that might one day have Brett Lee and Shoaib Akhtar bowling in tandem. Andrew Symonds and Harbhajan Singh winning a thrilling run-chase and embracing in delirious joy. OK, OK, now I'm getting carried away!

Every four years when the Olympics come around, it reminds me that the world of elite sport is exactly that - the world! Sure, I get excited when an Australian is competing and I sit a bit further forward in my seat but that's only natural. When someone like Usain Bolt or Michael Phelps takes to the starting blocks though, the sense of genuine pleasure is palpable. I'm not sure why because I have no real reason to cheer on Jamaica or the USA except for the fact that these guys just strip away my sense of identity. For a few minutes, they make me a citizen of the world.

Likewise with cricket, I have never understood people who can't see beyond their own local heroes. I'm sure there are many Indians who loved watching Wasim Akram whilst at the same time cursing him for every Indian wicket he ripped out. When I was a young boy growing up in Sri Lanka, I adored Allan Border to the extent where I'd even wear my lucky shirt every time he batted (until he got out cheaply and I threw it away in disgust!). Later, after moving to Australia, I remember 'hating' Gower with a passion during the 1985 Ashes Series but was still unable to switch off the television at three a.m. on a school day.

When I lived in England more recently, I chanced upon an encyclopedic statistician who refused to acknowledge that Shane Warne was arguably the greatest spin bowler of all time. When that same person later announced that Ricky Ponting was a flat track bully who only scored runs against poor bowlers, I immediately discounted him as a credible companion. He was just a sad, misguided soul, carrying a Wisden Almanack who missed his calling as Minister for British Propaganda.

Watching Michael Phelps last week was an exercise in shedding prejudice and just embracing a supreme human being. It was just good to be a part of the same species. Likewise with Usain Bolt - for those 10 seconds (9.6 to be exact), Jamaica shared him with the world. Revealingly, Bolt himself confesses that one of his biggest heroes is Matthew Hayden. Anyone who accuses Bolt of being disloyal to his fellow countrymen just misses the point totally. Some things in life go beyond Passport Control. If cricket is to become a truly global game to remotely rival soccer or tennis, it's future lies in taking a leaf out of the Olympic spirit and start revelling in greatness, regardless of whether it hails from Brisbane, Bangalore or Barbados. How many of us care whether Roger Federer is Swiss? Perhaps he has an Australian uncle somewhere.

In view of the looming crisis on the Champions Trophy front, it behooves all parties involved to realise that cricket cannot survive a global split along party political lines. World cricket needs to find a sensible compromise or else the Champions Trophy might be called that in name only.

Continuing with my theme of comparing decades rather than individuals, I recall the 1990s as a period of significant change. It began with the retirement of some all-time greats but time stands still for no man. Sachin Tendulkar, Shane Warne, Brian Lara, Muttiah Muralidaran, Glenn McGrath, Wasim Akram and Steve Waugh were just some of the new generation to dominate the ‘90s. Ian Healy took wicket-keeping to new heights but even his excellent batting at number 7 looks out of place amongst today’s glovemen.

Courtney Walsh’s fabulous career covered this entire decade too.His career went full circle from feared enforcer to the lone class act in a fast bowling attack that had none of the venom of his early days. And that was possibly the biggest power shift in cricket. Australia, sensing the weakness of the Reggae Kings, finally conquered the Caribbean fortress in 1995 and thirteen years later, they still hold the world crown in both forms of the game.

The Aussie domination can be traced to multiple factors, not least a talent pool that reaped the dividends of a strong domestic structure and the vision of the Cricket Academy. Top class players, battle-hardened and confident, kept arriving off the conveyor belt and were instantly ready for elite company. Imitation is definitely the sincerest form of flattery with most countries now replicating that ‘finishing school’.

The balance of the Australian team was arguably even more superior to the West Indies in their pomp because they had Warne. No pitch was now beyond them, even though India still defended their castle staunchly. Individual players too became supremely adaptable, performing at home and abroad, on green tops and dust bowls alike.

Australia also changed the way cricket was played. Scoring at 4+ RPO in Test cricket was now de rigueur and other sides soon followed. That legacy can still be seen today.

South Africa was back! How good it was to have another genuine contender in the field. They were immediately competitive and could easily have even won their first World Cup in 1992. Pakistan’s win in that tournament was a triumph of inspirational leadership and brilliant youth. Imran and Javed steering the ship whilst Akram, Mushtaq Ahmed and Inzamam Ul Haq looked nothing like each other but were bound by the common thread of genius.

Sri Lanka then changed the one-day game forever with their ambush in the 1996 World Cup. Their tactics still hold good today but now everyone tries to bat like Sanath Jayasuriya at the top of the order. It was a refreshingly simple but high-risk strategy – keep playing shots even if you lose early wickets and hope someone fires on the day.

Australia adapted better than most and conquered the world in 1999 but they did it with more conventional players like the Waugh Bros and Ponting who simply expanded their skill base. They were that good. Their duels with South Africa in that tournament will stick forever in my mind. Lance Klusener deserves a mention too.

Meanwhile, Lara and Tendulkar were phenomenal players. Their battles against the likes of the great bowlers like McGrath, Allan Donald, Warne, Murali, Akram and Waqar Younis made for compelling entertainment.

What was best about the ‘90s was that it made spin bowling fashionable again, bringing a new dimension back to the game. Have we ever seen so many ‘great’ spinners debuting in a single decade? We’ve already mentioned Warne, Murali and Mushtaq but what about Saqlain Mushtaq, Anil Kumble, Stuart MacGill and even the quirky Paul Adams? Young kids were suddenly captivated by this new art form and the tree is still full of young fruit.

One significant change that the ‘90s introduced was the phenomenon of spreadbetting. Born in London’s financial markets, its influence touched cricket with stunning consequences. It even had the power to take down captains and spawn cricket’s own mafia.

Despite this shadow, my memories of the glorious ‘90s still feature positive images of an Australian dynasty that took the on-field skills to new heights and dragged cricket to a higher plane. All of a sudden, cricketers needed to be athletes in every sense of the word. Revealingly, Australia did it with personnel who essentially had techniques that were built on old-fashioned principles that had stood the test of time. They did it consistently better than anybody else, from number 1 to 11. Not many other teams could regularly match that depth of class. Not many still can!

	Players like Javed Miandad made brave runs, wearing their bruises with pride, playing epic innings' against hostile short-pitched bowling © Getty Images

The 80s was the decade when one-day cricket became a staple of the cricket diet. Slow, steady starts, wickets in hand and a crescendo in the last 10 overs. Once the chasing team’s asking rate got above the six runs per over figure, Richie Benaud pronounced many a solemn death. Today, that would be a stroll to the finish line.

It was also the first signs of West Indies' domination in ODI cricket coming to an end. India surprised even themselves when they famously won the 1983 World Cup and Australia were shock winners of the 1987 World Cup in the subcontinent. That ‘home’ hoodoo still holds true. No host has won a World Cup yet.

What about the allrounders though? So many genuine legends, all playing in the same era. Ian Botham, Richard Hadlee, Imran Khan, Kapil Dev and Clive Rice were similar players, genuinely capable of being selected for their batting or their bowling. Hadlee might be borderline as a batsman as was Malcolm Marshall who was just out of that true allrounder class but as bowlers, they were both peerless.

Perhaps age is dimming my memory but I recall attrition and hard work for batsmen. The West Indians were probably exempt from that - Gordon Greenidge, Desmond Haynes, Richie Richardson and Viv Richards were strokeplayers with a young Gus Logie and Carl Hooper showing signs of class too. The other great batsman of that genre painted their reputations with drops of blood. Players like Sunil Gavaskar, Allan Border, Graham Gooch and Javed Miandad made brave runs, wearing their bruises with pride, playing epic innings' against hostile short-pitched bowling. Dean Jones' death-defying innings (literally) in the tied Test in Chennai will rank amongst the most courageous sporting performances of all time, in any sport.

Martin Crowe and David Gower were as elegant as any in cricketing history. The early Steve Waugh model showed glimpses of style (his later technique was much more effective but less attractive) and Aravinda De Silva was always good to watch. Pakistan had Salim Malik’s artistry and India had the wonderful wrists of Mohammad Azharuddin.

This next statement may appear confused but the bowling seemed high quality without being memorable. Does that make sense? I know West Indies had their usual production line of fearsome quicks but there seemed to be an awful lot of good medium-pace attacks around. Bob Willis was quick enough at times, Craig McDermott had good wheels and Wasim Akram was freakish but I can’t remember being captivated by anyone in particular. The spin-bowling stocks were particularly uninspiring with lots of steady, reliable tweakers but very little in the way of flair. Abdul Qadir was the obvious exception and his legacy still lives today.

Australia were certainly a mediocre team of battlers for much of that decade, especially after the retirement of the Holy Trinity (Greg Chappell, Dennis Lillee and Rod Marsh) until we saw a glimpse of what the 90s had to offer. Border was the rock they were built around but it should not be forgotten that this was also the decade when teams started employing a full-time coach (Bob Simpson for Australia). Twenty years later, we now have a ridiculous circus of support staff and computer boffins who require their own coach (the bus variety).

We heard of the great African players like Graeme Pollock and Barry Richards but most of us never really saw how good they were. That is a great pity. How they dealt with Curtly Ambrose, Malcolm Marshall, Courtney Walsh, Patrick Patterson and Co would have been great to see. We’ll never know …

Something else we’ll never know is how the West Indians would have dealt with their own fast bowlers. Would they have ducked and weaved and worn bruises like a badge of honour or would they have taken on the short ball without fear? Would Viv have batted without a helmet against a relentless four-pronged pace attack? Probably!

The 1980s reflected the global economy of the time. These were hard men, eking out a living in tough times and the general style of play reflected that. Except for Botham in '81 of course!

	Sir Viv is still the ‘King of Cool’ © Getty Images

The recent debates (here and here) about Jacques Kallis and an earlier thought-provoking piece about comparing players of different eras threatens to steal boyhood dreams that began in the 1970s. I keep trying to compare different players from different eras but the harder I try, the more confused I get. I might devote my next few posts to defining the last four decades and the great comparisons within.

To the 1970s then: little did I know then that cricket would become the single most defining influence in my life. The players from that era still evoke a kind of magic that comes from a childlike awe.

The West Indies were the glamour side of that era, perhaps because they were so tall and so cool. Viv Richards, Clive Lloyd, Lawrence Rowe and Alvin Kallicharran stick in my mind as flamboyant geniuses. My father’s hushed tones when describing the fearsome pace quartet still frightens me slightly – Andy Roberts, Michael Holding, Sylvester Clarke and Wayne Daniels were almost the stuff of fairy tales. How fast they must have been!

County cricket of course was almost the modern-day equivalent of the Indian Premier League. Reading the detailed scorecards of the Championship brought great players like Glenn Turner, Majid Khan, Mike Procter and Derek Underwood to life in my scrapbook. Was this where Fantasy Cricket was born, watching global marriages like Gordon Greenidge and Barry Richards (Hampshire) taking on Imran Khan and Garth Le Roux (Sussex)?

Australian champions like Dennis Lillee, Rod Marsh and the Chappell brothers were similarly god-like. Sunil Gavaskar’s brilliant innings against the West Indies still sticks in my mind, as does my father’s reverent worship of the Indian spin dynasty of Bishan Bedi, Erapalli Prasanna and Bhagwat Chandrasekar. I never quite understood why he was so enchanted by these mysterious slow bowlers when there were all these fearsome fast bowlers to imitate. I put it down to a ‘grown up thing’ so I pretended to understand and was allowed to stay up late and listen to the commentary.

Perhaps the sheer statistics and averages of the players of the 1970s don’t really stack up today but they still seem impossibly heroic to me, even thirty years later. Was it the romance of radio and newspaper that created legends where only mediocrity existed ? Does television sometimes spoil that aura and mystery?

Funnily enough, I remember more individual details from Test matches that I listened to on the radio, smuggled under the blankets, than later matches I watched on TV. Maybe the lack of vision led to a greater sense of imagination because I had to create the scenes myself. The beautiful commentary allowed me to form my own impression of what Holding must have looked like, gliding in off the long run or how Zaheer Abbas was meant to be a ‘touch player’ or the impregnability of Geoff Boycott’s defence. Why was Lillee’s action so classical? Why did Collis King seem to hit every ball for six?

It’s a tough task, comparing Kallis or Brian Lara to those of a different era.To a little boy, huddled next to a barely audible radio in Colombo, listening to wondrous accents from faraway places, the 1970s seemed full of the greatest players that ever strode the Earth. It was a decade of the quickest bowlers, fearless hookers (the batting kind!!) and Asian players whose wristy strokeplay and teasing flight conjured up images that I barely understood but was told repeatedly was pure magic.

Was this really the decade of innocence and greatness before the pragmatism and hard graft of the 1980s? Were these players really as good as they were made out to be? They must have been! Is it any coincidence that only little children believe in giants?

In an era before averages and strike-rates were the barometer of greatness, my first experiences of cricket were painted by uncles and grandparents who vividly described players whom they had never even seen. It almost spoils it when I see archive footage and realise that Jeff Thomson wasn’t really faster than a rocket! Mind you, Sir Viv is still the ‘King of Cool’.

It would be a foolish person who reads too much into the result of a single Test match and makes sweeping generalisations, far less, unfair criticism of champion players. India’s capitulation in Colombo must be a cause for concern of course but the ‘Greats’ of Indian batting (and surely Tendulkar, Dravid, Laxman, Sehwag and Ganguly must rank in that list) will no doubt turn things around in Galle. Their history tells us that they almost certainly will score big runs soon. Reading a bit more into an Indian post-mortem however warrants a few questions that only those more familiar with the Indian scene can really answer.

First question: is India moving away from being a team that relies on spin-friendly conditions? Perhaps the fruits of the MRF Pace Academy and a steady production line of bigger-framed fast bowlers are giving India a hint of what their future looks like.

Their relatively poor performance on spinning tracks (Colombo 2008 v Sri Lanka, Adelaide 2008 v Australia, Mumbai 2006 v England) is actually in contrast to some wonderful performances away from home on more fast-bowler friendly surfaces. Perth 2008 v Australia, Johannesburg 2006 v South Africa and their series win in England in 2007 are cases in point where India’s fast bowlers dominated more fancied opposition and their batsmen coped admirably with those pitches.

Even in ODI cricket, their VB series victory in Australia and various other good performances away from home (World Cup 2003) contrast sharply with some poor performances in spin-friendly conditions. The Champions Trophy in 2006 and Australia’s ODI series win in 2007 rank amongst the home disappointments.

Is this a sign that India is moving away from a long tradition and now becoming more of a threat on pitches that do a bit more for the quickies? In a perfect world, they would develop this strength whilst still defending ‘Fortress India’. Australia have certainly shown that winning away doesn’t need to come at the expense of domination at home. That is partly because recent Australian teams have wonderful balance and they are very adaptable in all conditions. Can the same be said of India?

Next question: is it about time to start looking at blooding the next generation? Class and pedigree are good things but perhaps the time draws nigh to look to the future. India’s next generation is chock-full of talent and perhaps, there needs to be a slow phasing in process so that there is no massive hole when the aforementioned ‘greats’ all exit the game within a short space of time. It’s an age-old question – do you pick the best XI on any given day or do you also start planning for the future? Is Test cricket meant to be for the best 11 cricketers in the country on that day? If you are the best today, should it matter how old you are? Is it the Best XI or the Best Future XI?

Last question: what are India’s spin bowling stocks looking like? I ask the question with a genuine lack of inside knowledge. It’s clear that Kumble and Harbajhan are no longer as effective as they once were – in Kumble’s case, he has nothing to apologise for.

I daresay it’s not just India’s worry though. Mendis apart, who else in the world is showing signs of becoming a future star of the game? Panesar is steady, Vettori is no spring chicken and Kaneria is by no means the guaranteed match winner that Pakistan was looking for after Mushtaq and Saqlain. Is India well covered in this area or is that a question that’s still up in the air?

India may well be the new superpower of cricket in the administrative sense but I’m not convinced that they’re quite ready (yet) to assume that mantle on the field. One poor performance is not the end of the world but one wonders about the next few years after the senior ‘legends’ move on. Is there any need to worry or is the production line working efficiently with fresh young talent waiting impatiently to carry India forward?

Being firmly in the neutral corner, I’m going to show rare bravado and put in my two cents worth about South Africa. I suspect my fellow blogger Stephen Gelb will respond by cutting me down, but it might make for an interesting debate.

South Africa is the most predictable team in both forms of the game, Tests and ODI’s. Apart from when they play against the minnows of Bangladesh or Zimbabwe, I reckon their performances can be predicted with some certainty.

Ironically, their Test cricket is almost the mirror opposite of their one-day cricket. On-field pressure is one thing but South Africa seem to have a major problem with coping with the hype and pressure that comes before a major event. The great tragedy is that a lot of it is self-inflicted. South Africa seem to fall on their own sword, often unable to meet their own benchmark standards imposed on themselves, by themselves. Countries like Australia love building them up before a major series, love watching the South Africans work themselves up into a frenzy and then choking on the fumes of their own gas truck.

In Test cricket, their much vaunted pace attack often fails to deliver in the opening Test match of a series. The recent Lords Test aside, Edgbaston in 1998 was one example when both Donald and Pollock got over-anxious on their ‘home ground’ (Warwickshire) and bowled poorly on a green pitch that should have suited them down to the ground. England was 249/1 at the end of play on Day 1.

The more they talk themselves up before a Test Series, the less likely they are to fulfil that potential in the first Test. Port Elizabeth 2004 v England, Cape Town 2006 v Australia, Johannesburg 2006 v India and Port Elizabeth 2007 v West Indies are all cases in point. South Africa was either favoured to win or rated themselves highly before each of those matches.

Their performances in the last Test of a series is markedly better, almost as if they are relieved to be playing without the burden of their own expectations. Their start to the current England series is following that exact pattern. Once the hype was extinguished at Lords, they fought back to salvage a brave draw and then won handsomely at Headingley. They will probably go on to win the series unless someone tells them that they are favourites again!.

In ODI cricket, especially in big tournaments, South Africa seems to react to pressure in much the same way but they take the gas at the end instead when they get to crucial knock-out games. When there’s no pressure at the start, they cruise through the early rounds and then falter once they firm as favourites. An obvious exception to this is their loss to West Indies in Cape Town in the first game of the 2003 World Cup but even here is a symmetry. Big occasion, home World Cup, favoured to win ... and what happens?

On the other hand, one only needs to look at their stunning re-entry to world cricket at the 1992 World Cup and marvel at their giant-killing deeds when no one really fancied their chances. No pressure, no expectation and they almost made it through to the Final but for a ridiculous rain rule.

Perhaps anyone with an understanding of the South African cricket mentality can help us make sense of this. It’s happened too often to be a coincidence so there must be something going on in the South African psyche that inhibits them wearing the tag of ‘favourite’ with any comfort.

Which then begs the question – why do they keep talking themselves up before an important series or a crucial knock-out game? One thing’s for sure – they seem to fight back well from a bad start. If only they could lead from the front and finish with a major trophy. Their world champion rugby team knows how to do exactly that!

The issue of cricket’s morality conundrum when it comes to walking and low catches in my most recent post, is not an easy one to leave alone. Like facing gentle outswing, it teases me to fiddle outside off stump and not just let it go through to the keeper.

One thing that most cricketers will readily admit to is the fact that in some cases, you genuinely do not know if you’ve nicked it or caught a low catch cleanly. Those instances happen from time to time and it is perfectly acceptable to leave that to the umpire’s discretion. In the case of a low catch, if you indicate any uncertainty, it normally goes in the batsman’s favour anyway.

If I was to take an ultra-cynical approach, could it be that players like Lara and Gilchrist were visionary enough to cultivate an aura of honesty that also worked in their favour? If you were known to be a walker, would umpires be more prepared to ignore their own instincts and wait that fraction of a second longer to see if you walk? If you didn’t tuck the bat under the arms and start that move towards the pavilion, would you possibly dodge a bullet or two because the umpire might think “he mustn’t have nicked it because he hasn’t walked?”

To be honest, I don’t think for one moment that either Gilly or Lara have ever been that disingenuous. But it’s not a bad one for the conspiracy theorists is it? It tends to work better for wicketkeepers too because they can also trade on that honesty when appealing for catches.

I suppose it only really works if you play at a level where you can build a reputation for honesty. Or if you play in a local competition where the umpires and opposition teams know you well after many years and therefore you can exploit that reputation as ‘Honest Joe’.

I’ve done it myself a few times when I’ve deliberately not appealed for marginal decisions and then really gone up in full voice for a closer one that is at a crucial time. It’s not exactly dishonest but there was certainly a sense of orchestrating the moment to capitalise on that build-up of goodwill and trust.

On the other hand, there are always those cricketers who trade on the ‘numbers theory’. Keep appealing, keep acting bitterly disappointed and eventually you know you’ll get one. Even as a batsman, there are times when you’ve survived a few close shouts and you just know in the back of your mind that if you get rapped on the pads again, you’re history. The fielding team can sense this tension too and appeal with more conviction. Perhaps the really good umpires sense this and treat each new appeal on its own merits.

That’s what makes cricket such a magnificent game. So many sub-plots happening and so many mind games being played on the periphery. What other sport has the time to allow these tactics to ferment, during the space of an over, a session, a day or even a career? I’ve come across plenty of wily campaigners who go to great lengths to set up an umpire or opponent with some strategy that has been masterfully executed.

I recall one bowler who kept telling the umpire how he admired the batsman for whipping the ball so beautifully off middle stump and what a great talent this batsman was. Even comparisons with the peerless Azharuddin were mentioned by this charitable and generous fellow. What a splendid sportsmanlike thing to hear on a cricket field. Not long after, a ball that was sliding down leg hit the pads and the lbw verdict was all-too predictable. “Azharuddin my a**e” was all I heard from the gleeful bowler as I trudged off disconsolately!!

	When asked if he would walk if Australia was one run away from victory and one wicket in hand, Adam Gilchrist allegedly smiled broadly and replied, “if we needed one to win with one wicket left, I wouldn’t nick it!” © Getty Images

Samir’s insightful take on park cricket etiquette and Stephen’s plea on behalf of umpires raises some interesting questions about the duality of morality. Is cricket unique for its double standards and contradictions which are almost impossible to define in black and white terms?

Let's explore the issue of 'walking' then. Most international players prefer to let the umpire make the decision, a perfectly reasonable position if they take the good and bad with equal grace. But, as we see all-too-frequently, this is definitely not the case. It was never more evident than in the ill-tempered Sydney 2008 Test when Ricky Ponting set the tone for a fractious atmosphere when he was given out in the first innings, totally oblivious to the fortunate decision earlier that morning when he tickled one down the leg side. Live by the sword, die by the sword - not for Ponting that day.

Brian Lara and Sachin Tendulkar on the other hand have consistently maintained their integrity over long careers by accepting umpiring decisions with relatively few histrionics. And to be fair, they've both copped some absolute shockers over the years! Yet, good or bad, they have generally accepted the umpire's verdict with wry smiles and perhaps a slight shake of the head.

Speaking of integrity, no one has done more for cricket in that respect than Adam Gilchrist. By all accounts, his on-field honesty is no pretence. He is genuinely regarded in the highest esteem by anyone who has had much to do with him in all aspects of life. Yet, this has not stopped Gilchrist from appealing for some of the most blatant "not-outs" imaginable. Rahul Dravid in the recent Sydney Test and Lara at the Gabba in 2005 are two examples that readily spring to mind. Is honesty a fickle mistress, swayed by circumstance, seduced by convenience and dancing to a secret tune that only cricketers can interpret?

Can anyone offer a good enough argument to decode this ethical conundrum? Is 'walking' one of those special things that defy explanation, an exotic beast that should be allowed to retain an air of mystique?

Cricket is full of such complex contradictions. Take the bump ball catch for example. Most cricketers, at all levels of the game, would feel honour-bound to admit when they have not taken a clean catch. If the umpire is not sure, the player feels a moral prerogative to honour the spirit of the game.

This is where I get totally confused – what’s the difference then between the non-catch and not walking when you know you’ve nicked it? Why is it acceptable to not help out the umpire in this situation too? Surely, if you feel the need to come clean about a bump ball, how does it differ in morality to not admitting that you edged it to the wicketkeeper? Or why not leave all decisions to the umpire and take the good with the bad?

It’s almost as if there is an invisible hierarchy of right and wrong that is inherent in the very folklore of the game. It’s almost as if some crimes are more honourable than others, a bit like murderous convicts who despise the paedophiles who share their prison cells.

Where do we sit on issues like taking a catch when we know that we’ve touched the boundary rope? Are we morally bound to confess or is that something for the umpire to adjudicate on? Again, I keep coming back to ‘walking’. What’s the difference?

The admirable Gilchrist deserves the last word on this topic. When asked if he would walk if Australia was one run away from victory and one wicket in hand, he allegedly smiled broadly and replied, “if we needed one to win with one wicket left, I wouldn’t nick it!”

Some of the responses to my previous post got me thinking: do cricket administrators consider the modern game an unattractive product? Why do I say this? Well, it must be. Why else would you need a host of other ‘sideshows’ to keep the public entertained? Is the cricket itself not enough?

Perhaps I’m old fashioned. Perhaps I’m one of the minority who still likes to go to a cricket match to actually … wait for it …watch a game of cricket. Why do I feel slightly guilty for admitting that? Because I know that I will cop some stick for not “lightening up” or for not moving with the times or for not embracing the ‘circus’ that cricket has become.

Boorish, drunken, loud spectators aside, we’ve now got a situation where the organisers themselves are almost admitting their product is so poor in entertainment value that they need to put on a ‘Variety Show’ between overs to keep us from falling asleep. Pop music played throughout a match, handicapped athletics races during scheduled breaks, cheap radio station promotions on-ground and PA systems that introduce every player as if they were announcing a heavyweight boxing fight.

If I wanted a rock concert or a children's show, I would have chosen to spend my money elsewhere. The cricket itself was enough to keep me riveted to every ball bowled. Obviously, people like me are not the ones that administrators want to attract to the stadium.

In an era where batsmen are regularly scoring at over four runs per over, bowlers are nudging 150 kilometres per hour and the standard of fielding is taking the game to new heights, why do real cricket fans need any other entertainment? Compare this to the 1970’s when 220 runs in 80 overs of military medium pace was probably considered a good day’s play.

I used to love the quiet moments, especially after a wicket fell, when I could turn to my neighbour and dissect the nuances of the dismissal and bask in the glory of being a sideline expert. What about a quiet lunch break when a robust discussion could take place with a dozen strangers sitting near you, each one bringing their own personal perspective to that session’s events? Silence created it’s own deafening tension when there was a close game to be won or lost. Listening to the radio commentary whilst watching a series of maiden overs was like sipping a fine wine, a slow and gentle seduction of the senses. The new atmosphere is like being at a disco, slamming down ‘Alcopops’ so you get drunk in a hurry.

We now have the latest abomination: American-style cheerleaders in a Twenty20 game that is already so fast-paced that it leaves you breathless. You’d find more culture in yogurt. Is it not enough that McCullum is smiting mighty sixes every few balls or that Symonds’ acrobatics in the field defy belief? Breathless between brilliance, do we need to be assaulted by yet another form of entertainment, lest we get bored and leave before this three hour game is finished? It's like needing to watch a thriller film during sex.

Today’s cricketers have every right to feel aggrieved. They are fitter, faster and more skilled than ever. Yet, their employers feel the need to augment their entertainment value with cheap add-ons. Perhaps it’s just a cynical way to attract more than just 'cricket fans'. This is now packaged entertainment for consumers with empty minds and full pockets.

PS - Some of my mates tell me that watching the cricket whilst making love is perfectly acceptable behaviour. Now there's a true fan.

Samir, with respect to your generous portrait of Australian cricket fans, I beg to differ.

There’s no doubt that Samir’s 'friends' exist in Australia, as is doubtless the case with knowledgeable cricket lovers from Mumbai to Manchester and exotic places in between. What I’m referring to is the loud, obnoxious minority, who by virtue of their sheer ability to make complete idiots of themselves, makes you think that they outnumber the genuine fans that Samir fondly eulogises.

There’s a pretty clear pattern though. In international matches, the behaviour tends to get progressively worse after the first few hours of play. Any early rowdiness, normally restricted to on-field happenings, becomes increasingly less cricket-centric as the day (night) wears on. The poor behaviour reaches a crescendo towards the end of the day before it easing off into a drunken stupor at the close.

This type of parochial Australian fan (who only care about beer, beer and more beer) are a particularly unedifying sight to those who’ve paid good money in the forlorn hope of enjoying good cricket. The mere glimpse of a $2 beach ball is greeted with a louder roar than the most sumptuous cover drive or delicate leg glance. If not for the giant replay screen, they’d miss all the highlights.

Then there’s the ubiquitous Mexican Wave. What more is there to say about something that is about as amusing as toothache? Round and round it goes, a shower of beer and food scraps thrown to the heavens and proud ‘high fives’ from a thousand oafs who would barely know (or care) if The Don himself had been reincarnated. Their interest in the cricket, marginal to begin with, has now clearly been washed away with the last 12 beers in the hot sun.

It is about now when the really clever ones start to come out of the woodwork! You know, the ones whose ancestors thought that “Hadlee’s a wanker” was our own unique contribution to literary genius. Twenty years on and nothing has changed apart from a few other choice insults to any foreign player who has the temerity to actually field the ball or inhale oxygen. Any foul-mouth hooligan who attracts the attention of the police becomes an instant hero, a modern day Ned Kelly or Robin Hood. Poor old Hadlee’s alleged personal preferences are now attributed to the constabulary and “Hurray for the Drunken Idiot” is adopted as the new national anthem.

Speaking of anthems, no one comes close to us for sheer imagination. “Aussie, Aussie, Aussie, Oi Oi Oi” is right up there with the great poetic works of all time. When matched by the equally brilliant “Enger-land, Enger-land, Enger-land”, one could be forgiven for thinking that Shakespeare was nobbut an illiterate peasant.

To be fair, I haven’t seen enough international cricket in other parts of the world to know if this is a uniquely Australian trait or not. Perhaps a few bloggers might enlighten us with some salutary tales of national embarrassment from their corner of the globe.

One redeeming feature of Australians though is our ability to readily laugh at ourselves when the joke is reversed. At one of the ODI matches in Brisbane, a burly South African man wearing a Springbok rugby shirt was being mercilessly “sledged” by the local crowd. As the fast bowler was steaming in from the Vulture St end, the fans started beating the advertising hoardings in a frenzied call to arms. When the noise died down, our brave African friend stood up and proclaimed in a guttural Afrikaans accent, “don’t worry about the convicts – they’re just calling for their dinner”.

Once the laughter had died down, he was instantly swallowed up by a sea of Aussie supporters. No need to fear for his welfare though - he was last seen weaving unsteadily towards the Aussie National Pub, arm in arm with a dozen of his new best friends, proudly croaking “Aussie, Aussie, Aussie……..”

Meanwhile, those of us who stayed till the end of the game watched South Africa narrowly beat Sri Lanka. Australia play tomorrow!

As an MCC member, I was quite indignant when I heard some cricket fans, cheering sarcastically at the great club’s response to the Kevin Pietersen switch-hit incident. Apparently they were surprised that the MCC could possibly have made a decision that was eminently sensible, reflecting a commonsense view of Pietersen’s outrageous talent.

To the ignorant, it seems a populist view that the MCC is made up of ancient people who are completely out of touch with the realities of the modern game. And ignorant they are. Nothing could be further from the truth.

I can’t speak for generations past but I’ve only ever experienced a club that views its role in the game with a mixture of irreverence, humour and a total devotion to the true spirit of the game. The Pietersen ruling was exactly what I expected – a commonsense decision that acknowledged KP’s genius and the fair contest between bat and ball. What’s so surprising about that?

And before you write me off as an apologist for the aristocrat Brit, perish the thought. A Sri Lankan-born Australian from suburban Brisbane is hardly the epitome of the posh Etonian with a double barrelled surname and a country estate in rural Hertfordshire. From my experience, the MCC is made up of a host of people who share one thing in common – a genuine love for the game and a real desire to see it embraced in far-flung corners of the globe.

Sounds far fetched? Sound elitist? Not on a little island called Lakemba in Fiji where a thousand rowing boats descended on a tiny village green to watch the MCC take on the Fijian national team. This was my first overseas tour with the club and it opened my eyes to how far the club would go, at its own expense, to promote the game. Test cricketers discussing the finer points of reverse swing with a burly Fijian fast bowler whose occupation (surely he was pulling our leg?) was apparently a bat hunter, the flying fox variety. The only ‘elitists’ were the giant mosquitoes which completely ignored the locals and feasted solely on the MCC. And feast they did!

Playing for the MCC seems to have a liberating effect on cricketers, even the world’s best players. I played in many games where seasoned international players shared a dressing room with rank no-hopers like myself and never felt the need to act like primadonna’s. In fact, it almost appeared as if playing for the MCC allowed these players to regress to a time when they played cricket for the pure enjoyment of it. You’d go a long way to meet a nicer man than Andy Flower and he never once gave the impression that he was too good for a game against a school First XI on a windswept British hillside on a chilly April afternoon. He was not an exception.

England is full of teams like the Free Foresters, The Arabs, John Paul Getty’s XI and the MCC and it’s easy to be sarcastic without understanding their genuine love for cricket. As an outsider who was always made welcome in this environment, I never witnessed the sort of arrogance that I see in club cricket every weekend. Even players who are prone to such tendencies seem too embarrassed to carry on like pork chops (Australian vernacular for ‘idiots’) when turning out for the MCC. Winning or losing is almost an afterthought.

Of course the MCC was going to endorse Pietersen’s brilliance. It was a moment that was great for cricket. Why wouldn’t they embrace it? For those ignorant critics of the MCC who don’t really understand what it stands for, take a leaf from KP and reverse your stance!

	The IPL hardly made a ripple in Australia in terms of avid fans of the concept but there was an appreciation that India had now changed the face of cricket forever © Times Of India

Not so long ago in Australia, the subcontinent was the butt of crass humour and cheap stereotypes. The famous 'Twelfth Man' skits were hilarious but they hinted at a first-world superiority that made no apologies for making fun of the so-called curry munchers. Ironically, winning in the subcontinent was a major achievement (if you managed it) but losing was a minor irritation. After all, dodgy umpires, dodgy curries and dodgy pitches were standard fare, were they not? Real cricket was always played on fast, bouncy pitches or perfectly manicured green fields in faraway northern lands. Mind you, when the West Indian pace quartet of the 70's and 80's were playing 'chin music', we weren’t that keen on fast, bouncy pitches but that’s another opera altogether!

But Australian cricketers and fans alike are starting to warm to this impending marriage with a grudging affection that is born from being a nation of no-nonsense pragmatists. If you can’t break up the lovers, there’s no sense in missing out on a good party! It helps of course that our wonderfully talented team has all bases covered in cricketing terms. Batting, bowling and off-the-field, Australia is now comfortable with the notion of competing with the home nations in their backyard. The mystique and fear have largely been replaced by cultural familiarity and supreme adaptability in all conditions. No one can argue with Australia's ability to win away from home.

The cricketers can thank their talents and their bulging wallets for this new-found appreciation of India. Let’s be honest – the rupee is now the most seductive mistress of world cricket and any cricketer who pretends otherwise deserves our scorn. There’s nothing wrong with this so long as the love affair is mutually beneficial and not conducted behind a veil of hypocrisy.

From an Aussie fan’s perspective, India is both Montague and Capulet, saviour and villain. Reality suggests that this is where the future of the game now resides in an unholy alliance with the corporate moguls. It may be a marriage of necessity but here is a young maiden who is happy to be consummated on the altar of satellite television. And this bride is neither demure nor is she afraid to experiment. IPL hardly made a ripple here in terms of avid fans of the concept but there was nonetheless an appreciation that India had now changed the face of cricket forever. Whereas Australia used to be the innovator of change in the cricket world, even those who prefer tradition could not help but marvel at India’s ability to put on a show. And what a wedding it promises to be.....

On the other hand, there is also this uneasy sense that this could be a marriage based on a very convenient double-standard. The public perception of India is still that of a relatively poor country with social ills that the average Australian cannot comprehend. Perceptions can of course be wrong but perception is reality. How do we reconcile this poverty with the outrageous dowries being paid for Twenty20 mercenaries and the possibly devastating impact on our own local talent pool? If Corporate India has this much money to ‘waste’ on cricket, perhaps India should be viewed as a first-world country and therefore no longer to be viewed in a condescending (or sympathetic) light when it comes to broader economic perceptions.

South Africa has had to grapple with this duality for a long time and their experiences will provide a fascinating insight into how we understand modern India. Powerhouse or poorhouse?

At many Western weddings, it is customary for the guests to be asked the question: “if you have any objections, speak now or forever hold your peace”. Cricket Australia may have done just that but it is now a faltering voice, ignored by the princess and her followers. Australian cricket is definitely nervous about this shift in power but one hopes it is not a nervousness spawned by cultural prejudice. We ran the game for so many years and expected everyone else to respect our authority. The King is dead. Long live the King. We should now have the grace to hand over the reigns with willing hearts and minds.

To continue with the marriage analogy, it is not so much an issue as to where the Princess hails from but how benevolently and wisely she will govern the kingdom. World cricket cannot afford a ruthless dictator but countries like Australia need to remember that when we ran the show, shotgun marriages were often the norm. The only difference may be that the shotgun is now in different hands.