VVS Laxman aside, does any contemporary player penetrate the off side quite so effortlessly, quite so regally? © Getty Images

Events in Kandy and Colombo over the past fortnight have given us Limeys even more reason to believe in the possibility of the improbable. Not only is Michael Vaughan showing signs of re-scaling the heights of 2002 [which is not, admittedly, all that unlike suggesting Michelangelo had another Sistine Chapel in him]; he is also beginning to come to terms with what so many assume to be the toughest job in sport: captaining a cricket team while fully justifying selection as a player.

On the face of it, Vaughan’s Test career endorses that hardy slice of cricketing philosophy: while responsibility may maketh the man, it usually plays merry hell with the batsman. England’s reigning overlord, after all, is averaging more than 20% less with the stripes than he did in the ranks.

On the other hand, as his form thus far in Sri Lanka has reinforced, he does appear to be getting the hang of all that juggling. As I write, up to the end of the second Test in Colombo, he is averaging 39.18 as captain; only once, after scoring a century in each innings against West Indies in 2004, has he averaged more in that capacity – and that was 39.35. Indeed, in his last 14 innings, against West Indies, India and Sri Lanka, he has made 736 runs at nearly 53 – i.e. more than his mean as non-captain. That he is opening again, courtesy of Andrew Strauss’s unexpected decline, seems anything but coincidental: in that position he averages 49.08, elsewhere almost 10 runs fewer.

So, is that old saw, about returns diminishing as duties increase, really borne out by the evidence? Take a look at the following list of current or recent batsmen-captains:

Average as captain

Ponting 65.83 (up from 55.97 not as captain)
Jayawardene 60.41 (47.80)
Lara 57.83 (50.12)
Inzamam 52.10 (48.73)
Dravid 44.51 (59.30)
Fleming 40.59 (36.77)
Vaughan 39.18 (50.98)
Smith 45.25 (55.09)

Smith is an awkward case – all but eight of his 66 Tests have been as captain, in which capacity he was averaging 72 after his first seven matches, thanks primarily to those successive double-tons against England in 2003. The decline, though, has been steady, long and virtually uninterrupted. As for Vaughan, he became captain amid the glow of one of the purplest patches the modern game has witnessed, so again, the only way was down. (Indeed, he was averaging more, 50.98, than at any time in his career when he assumed the reins against South Africa at Lord’s in 2003.) Given that helming India is probably the most demanding job in sport, and that he, too, was surfing the crest of a wave when he inherited it, Dravid’s waning is even more forgivable. The surprise, to many, will be that as many as five of the eight players above became more productive with responsibility, Jayawardene, Ponting and Lara appreciably so.

Now let’s toss in, at something akin to random, 12 notables of distant and recent yesteryear who doubled as skippers:

Bradman 101.51 (98.69)
Hammond 55.23 (59.48)
Sobers 58.80 (57.01)
Gavaskar 50.72 (51.33)
Javed Miandad 50.08 (53.53)
Hutton 52.14 (58.47)
Lloyd 51.30 (38.67)
Richards 45.11 (53.64)
Ian Chappell 50.00 (37.26)
Steve Waugh 52.30 (50.44)
Hussain 36.04 (38.10)
M Taylor 39.63 (46.97)

Almost 60% of the above (seven out of 12) endured a decline in productivity as leaders, yes, but of rather more significance is the fact that more than 40% (five) improved, Chappell and Lloyd especially.

Merging these two lists, moreover, demonstrates the relatively insignificant negative impact captaincy can have:

Biggest rise

Chappell + 12.74
Lloyd + 12.63
Jayawardene + 12.61
Ponting + 9.86
Lara + 7.71
Fleming + 3.82
Inzamam + 3.37
Bradman + 2.82
Waugh + 1.86
Sobers + 1.79

Biggest fall

Dravid – 14.79
Vaughan – 11.80
Smith – 9.84
Richards – 8.53
Taylor -7.34
Hutton – 6.33
Hammond – 4.25
Miandad – 3.45
Hussain – 2.06
Gavaskar – 0.61

Those least touched by the cares of leadership have been Gavaskar (0.61 difference), Sobers (1.79), Waugh (1.86), Hussain (2.06) and Bradman (2.82). Of the 20 batsmen under examination, furthermore, only six can be said to have suffered in any substantive way (average reduced by more than 5%) from carrying the extra burden – Dravid, Vaughan, Smith, Richards, Hutton and Taylor. Since they all averaged 39-plus, moreover, none can be said to have been conspicuously unworthy batting selections in the way that, say, Mike Brearley (22.48) or even Jeremy Coney (30.19) were. So much, then, for received wisdom.

Vaughan, though, has something else to commend him. Lara’s retirement from the five-day arena may have left a vast void on the aesthetic front, but the Sheriff of Sheffield’s post-knee-op rebirth has plugged a few gaps. VVS Laxman aside, does any contemporary player penetrate the off side quite so effortlessly, quite so regally? Not to these eyes. Throw in a follow-through that might have inspired Rembrandt and the artistic impression is nigh-on Gowerian. Or, come to that, Azharuddin. Six-point-zeroes all round.

Which prompted another mischievous thought. How about picking a current XI to satisfy the senses, and one on whom, despite their collective eyesoreness and/or greyness, you might wager your last penny not to lose? All right, all right, since you insist…

Sensual XI: Michael Vaughan (capt), Chris Gayle, Ricky Ponting, Mohammad Yousuf, VVS Laxman, Prasanna Jayawardene (wk), Stuart MacGill, Shoaib Akhtar, Brett Lee, Shane Bond, Danish Kaneria.

Undemonstrative XI: Kumar Sangakkara (capt & wk), Michael Hussey, Rahul Dravid, Jacques Kallis, Shivnarine Chanderpaul, Paul Collingwood, Anil Kumble, Shaun Pollock, Matthew Hoggard, Stuart Clark, Paul Harris.

	Fielding has never been as good as it is now © AFP

Where are the new Lillees and Waqars? Whither the next Warne, Healy or Richards? Will we ever again witness an opener as gritty as Lawry, as patient as Boycott, as correct as Gavaskar?

These are just some of the despairing wails regularly heard from the cognoscenti. And yes, even those with a PhD in contrariness would be hard-pressed to offer much reassurance that all our tomorrows will be as rich in cricketing quality as all our yesterdays and todays. Then again, just as Ian Healy all but banished memories of Alan Knott, and Gower, Murali, Kallis and Ambrose trumped Graveney, Bedi, Botham and Roberts respectively, predictions of this ilk have a habit of coming back to give our self-appointed soothsayers all sorts of bite-sized impressions in the backside. Indeed, Michael Hussey’s quest to out-Bradman Bradman may yet deliver the biggest chewing-out of all.

There is, however, one department of expertise for which claiming that we’ve never had it so good is entirely justifiable, incontrovertibly so. I refer, of course, to fielding. In today’s Twenty20 international came evidence afresh of the peaks of practice now being scaled. Jeetan Patel’s one-handed leap at backward point to gobsmack Adam Gilchrist and the keeper’s own airborne parry and swallow dive to stun Jamie How were both efforts, to steal shamelessly from Steely Dan’s Deacon Blues, that staggered the mind. Such gems, sadly, are never given their full due either on the scorecard or in databases, and are now so routine we tend to forget them inside a week.

Which seems an enormous pity, not to mention a vast injustice. In Major League Baseball, after all, each fielding position (including pitchers) boasts an annual Golden Glove award. Not that cricket’s closest cousin stops there in its appreciation of athleticism. A highlight of ESPN’s nightly round-up is the “Web Gems” segment, slices of hand-eye-leg coordination that defy gravity, probability and even reason. Fielders are credited with “assists” and “putouts”. Seasonal tallies are religiously maintained and quoted, efficiency percentages calculated. The Colorado Rockies’ march to the World Series in October sent jaws diving floorwards, but the fact that they had recorded the closest to a flawless campaign in the field the game had ever seen was soon being touted as the key stat. And those lucky beggars get to wear gloves the size of woks.

Isn’t it about time cricket followed suit? But how? Well, for starters, why not nominate a fielder for every major position, to be inducted into the FICA Hall of Fame forthwith? For what it’s worth, I’ll start the ball rolling with the following, entirely personal selection, based solely on those I had the good fortune to see rather than read about:

Wicketkeeper: Ian Healy

Slip: Mark Waugh

Gully: Joel Garner

Leg-slip: Garry Sobers

Short-leg: David Boon

Cover: Derek Randall

Backward Point: Jonty Rhodes

Outfielder: Andrew Symonds

All-Rounder: Roger Harper

The next step is to implement annual awards, voted for by the players themselves – best outfielder, best cover, strongest arm, surest slip, gutsiest/pottiest short leg…I’ll leave it to your imaginative suggestions. For now, I’ll content myself with some modest proposals:

Least Pointless Backward Point: Paul Collingwood

Least Slipshod Slip: Mahela Jayawardene

Handiest Gloveman: Prasanna Jayawardene

Laser Gunner: Andrew Symonds

Last Man To Chance Anything, Ever, To: Andrew Symonds

	Ryan Sidebottom's dismissal in the second innings left a bitter taste and lent force to the argument that the days of the strictly reactive third umpire should end © Getty Images

How shall we remember this Test? Let us count the ways. Slowly, appreciatively. The gripping to-and-fro struggle for the upper hand between well-matched sides that kept us guessing until the last, confirming the five-day form as the most edifying and satisfying spectacle thrown up by the competitive arts. The sight of a spinner deciding matters with the new ball. The almost equally estimable bowling of Chaminda Vaas and Matthew Hoggard. Further proof that Kumar Sangakkara is not only the best willow-wielder currently residing on this particular planet but author of the most statistically-impressive sustained streak of form since Braddles. The batting of Ian Bell, Matty Prior and, in the aptest of farewells, Sanath Jayasuriya (thanks awfully for doing so much to preserve this plaything of ours, old boy). The awesome wicketkeeping of the lesser-known Jayawardene. The way Sidebottom’s curls make him look like Rupert Everett playing Charles II. Oh, and Murali beating Warney.

Yet a bitter taste lingers.

If the professionals are to be believed, there were only about 15 minutes of playable light left when Lasith Malinga’s impeccable yorker did for Hoggard. Throw in Sidebottom’s first-innings resistance and it is not that great a stretch to conclude that, had the correct decision been made, England might have escaped with a draw, however much that might have offended one’s notions of justice. And yes, while I am, legally speaking, a Pom, albeit sometimes an abashed one, and England CC are the only sporting team that rouses my emotional prejudices and vestiges of near-shameless patriotism, it would have offended my own notions of justice.

The injustice of Sidebottom’s exit was plain, if not necessarily from the outset. Admittedly, in real time, it was far from obvious, to this couch potato at least, that anything was amiss. That he got an inside edge to the ball that thudded fatally into his pads, however, was beyond doubt from the very first replay transmitted by Sky.

Surely the third umpire, the grandly-monikered Tyron Hirantha Wijewardene, should have been in a position to pick up his walkie-talkie and gently alert Asad Rauf to the bat’s involvement before he made a fool of himself. “Proactivity” may be one of those horrid buzzwords coined by management consultants as a posh-sounding alternative to the traditionally curt-but-reasonably-effective “bloody well get on with it, already”, but this is one case where I heartily applaud its invention. It sounds so...so…ACTIVE.

No blame should be attached to Rauf. It had been a long day, such a draining, concentration-sapping match, and visibility was deteriorating. But this episode served to reinforce the argument a small but avowedly and incredibly sensible cadre of cricket-lovers have been voicing for some time. Namely, that the days of the strictly reactive third official should be terminated with extreme, even excessive, prejudice. One-way relationships seldom work.

	Muttiah Muralitharan celebrates overtaking Shane Warne as Test cricket's leading wicket-taker © Getty Images

When Fred Trueman became the first man to take 300 Test wickets at The Oval in 1964, he observed with typical drollness that, if anyone outdid him, he’d be “bloody tired”. Having sent down 38,000-odd balls to Trueman’s 15,000-odd, most of them in steamy, strength-sapping conditions, Muttiah Muralitharan had even more reason to prattle on about work ethics and sweat-drenched toil. Heaven knows he’d have been justified, in the heat of the moment, in hailing his historic delivery to Paul Collingwood this morning as the greatest ball of his career, an impeccable fusion of sorcery and sauce. What followed was as unexpected as anything he has ever served up for our delectation.

Collingwood was bewitched, bothered, bewildered and bowled by a ball that straightened: the “toppie” or doosra, or so we assumed. The author, astonishingly, disclaimed all responsibility: he’d tried to bowl the orthodox offie (as if anything he does can ever be regarded as such) but “the ball went the other way”, or so he confessed in typically disarming fashion to Sky Sports’ Nick Knight. Up in the commentary box, Sir Ian of Bothamshire was pinching himself black and blue.

In each of the seven categories to the right of the wickets column – best bowling, best match bowling, average, economy rate, strike rate, five-fors and 10-fors – Murali bests Shane Warne. Among that magnificent septet, those 61 five-fors are the most revealing (Robert Croft, the former England offspinner, justly equates such hauls to centuries). Yet even that staggering stat only hints at the colossal burden the tigerish Tamil has had to bear. Only one colleague, Chaminda Vaas (322 as I write), has scalped more than 100 Test victims; only Vaas (11) among Sri Lankans has taken five wickets in an innings more than five times. No bowler since Charlie Griffith, moreover, has had his action, and hence integrity, assailed by so many outrageous slings and arrows.

Through it all, almost without exception, he has resisted any urge to bitch back, to fire vengeful salvos about Brett Lee or Shoaib Malik or any other owners of dubious actions. Through it all, he has been mindful of the wider world, of tsunami victims and those less fortunate, as kind to dressing-room newcomers as he is respectful to the senior team-mates he has carried on that impossibly broad back. We Hebrews have a word for such occasions: mazeltov, meaning "congratulations". “Mazel”, though, means luck, and luck has played no discernible part in this cockle-grilling story whatsoever.

Warne may have done more to revive the art and heart of spin, but Murali has redefined our notions of sporting heroism. Verily, a champion for our times.