Despite two consecutive series wins in
vastly different circumstances, the Australian cricket team still
tricks the eye. In one Test, Ed Cowan resembles a doughty old-school
opener, capable of withstanding the best attacks in world cricket;
the following, he disappears into the sheds at 1/11. During one
match, Shane Watson fights indomitably for a hard-earned 80; the
next, he plays over and around a nothing-ball and departs meekly. In
any one series Australia is likely to employ seven different bowlers.
With victories against India and the
West Indies under his belt and a reasonable layoff before their next
Test, it's time Michael Clarke examined his team. They aren't super
talented, abounding with youthful promise or even stocked with
journeymen. The Australian team, or even the thirty-man CA contract
list, has no defining single characteristic which unifies them. And
it shows.
Ed Cowan - (c) Balanced Sports |
Australia are a team without an
identity. Without that unifying factor and devoid of knowledge of
who they are as a team, the country's Test players will continue to
play inconsistent cricket.
The greatest teams in world cricket
history have rocked an identity which was the personification of
their most dominant collective character traits. The Australians of
the first half of the last decade epitomised arrogance. The West
Indians they replaced as ostensible World Champs exuded a fearsome,
calculating vibe. For years, Pakistan has been content with being
unknowable. Flower's England has committed to twin attitudes of
professionalism and preparation. Look back at every great team in
history and adjectives spring quickly to mind.
With the current Aussies, those
adjectives are less defining and more descriptive. Inconsistent.
Journeyman. They (mostly) try hard.
A sense of personal and collective
identity matters. Every sport has its own tales of team identities:
the underdog, the supertalented high-octane team, the fine wine year,
the gnarled veterans. Stereotypes, cliches and archetypes all, but
it does follow the tenet that an athlete's perception becomes their
reality: in fact, this platform underlies how players can so easily
gain and lose form. Once a self-identity is perceived, belief
follows. Labels beget certainty and self-actualisation, no matter if
those tags are correct or badly misplaced.
Moving
on from amateur psychology hour, there simply isn't a objective,
defining characteristic that denominates an Australian Test
cricketer. It's begins at the top, with the key players and
standard-bearers – ie. those
with Class A contracts. To wit, Watson, Clarke, David Warner,
Brad Haddin and Ricky Ponting.
This
handful represents starkly disparate elements of this incarnation of
Australia. While all want Australia to succeed, two are seriously
concerned with retaining their positions, one seems incapable of
scores over 60 and another still learns the First Class game. All
the while, Clarke marshals his men, who seem confused as to which to
rally behind. Aggressor? Confident?
“Grinder”?
“Grinder”?
Although
(some of) these five represent Australia's most important – and
marketable – cricketers, financially rewarding these team leaders
means Cricket Australia has subconsciously divided its resources.
The CA executive want success in Tests, ODIs and T20s without needing
to focus on one format in particular. Like an out-of-form batsman,
they half-heartedly offer shots, afraid to fail – when a shot (or
management decision) requires commitment.
The
creation of consistent excellence requires a shared an ideal.
Winning creates hype, which creates interest which then grows the
sport. Of course, dividing their resources is a
practice at which CA excels.
The simple question is how could the
current team have an identity? Australia has fielded the same XI in
consecutive Tests only three times in the fourteen Tests since Clarke
was installed as captain. Bowlers have been constantly injured,
while batsmen have been (justly) dropped when form has waned. This
capriciousness is only magnified by Australia entering an epoch where
there isn't the same level of talent as it has enjoyed for the past
thirty years.
This lack of top-tier players has bred
a horses-for-courses selection policy and consequently a transitory
Test team. To borrow a well-used cliché, teams need time playing
together to cement relationships and trust. With so many passing
fancies, a team can't begin to build an identity. Alarmingly, the
more consistent team elements – Hussey, Ponting and Haddin –
will likely drift into the sunset sooner rather than later.
Beholding
to this tit-for-tat policy, Australian selectors have plumbed
interstate cricket to select the most talented players available in a
parody of an IPL-style fantasy draft. This is best demonstrated in
the recently-announced
squad to tour Ireland and England, and the return of Mitchell
Johnson, Steve Smith and wonderboy Pat Cummins.
Cummins, rebuilt
after an injury, probably deserved to tour but Johnson now has
nothing on which to hang his hat but natural talent. By
resurrecting a wayward fast man whose best days are three years ago
leaves observers wondering how Australian leadership sees itself: the
ultimate destination for the übertalented,
or a team comprised of twelve interconnected, moving parts.
Often, it is not
the most talented players who build teams and distinctiveness but
so-called “glue guys”. Ashley Giles, Geoff Marsh and Gus Logie
were integral to their relative sides for their ability to do a job,
rather than being selected because they could or would dominate.
Australia, for so long blessed with a gene pool where every second
child became a international-quality batsman, expects to maintain the
luxury of playing stars also able to double as role-players.
While speaking
about his time in basketball, former Phoenix Suns GM Steve Kerr
recently stated that “All champion teams have role players”.
It's possible that he has uncovered not only a basketball truth, but
a universal one: the selection of Michael Beer and Ed Cowan – a man
known worldwide after only seven Tests for one
non-shot – suggests the Australian selectors are coming to the
same conclusion. Pity the role player whose situation remains
undefined: when a squad lacks an overwhelming identity, individual
players suffer for not knowing their own.
Inspiration and decision must come from
Clarke, in collusion with coach Mickey Arthur and the Australian
selectors. The captain has obviously modelled his batsmanship on
Australia's most talismanic leader since World Series Cricket, Allan
Border. Border first offered the country's best and most gritty
batting, and then authored the country's prevailing cricketing
attitude of hard-nosed, uncompromising competitiveness. That stance
has defined the past two decades, but is now either outdated or
ignored.
True and effective
leadership replenishes itself, creating new leaders rather than
demanding slavish obedience to a style. Clarke has proved himself
the right man for the captaincy, a man to shepherd Australia into a
new era as Border did a quarter of a century ago. However, for him
to do so he must consciously elect to impart a new identity on his
charges.
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