Australia - lacking an identity

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.

What I learned this Summer

As part of a series on The Sledge, several online columnists were invited to submit what this past cricket season has taught them.  Featured contributors included cricket blogosphere stalwarts Ant Sims of Wicket Maiden, Dave Siddall of World Cricket Watch and Subash Jayaraman of The Sight Screen.  The following was Balanced Sports' contribution.

What I learned this summer:

Andrew Hilditch was really, really bad.

Let's not split hairs, I already knew this – so did everyone except Mitchell Johnson. But John Inverarity's relatively steady start at the helm of the Australian selection panel threw Hilditch's stint as Chairman of Selectors into sharp relief.

The guy wasn't bad, but comically inept.

Australian cricket has for years been regarded as a bastion against petty griping. Like any good marriage, the players and establishment held onto their grievances, only to let them pour out in flare-ups – like, say, World Series Cricket or the A-Team's Rebel Tour of South Africa. However, once there's been some resolution and a few years in which the establishment re-entrenches themselves into “best practice”, then suddenly Australia's competitive again.

With the ascent of journeymen like Ed Cowan and Dan Christian to the forefront of the national setup, Australia appears to be once more rewarding effort rather than physical gifts. This suggests the trough into which Australian cricket sunk wasn't so much the effects Warne, Langer and McGrath retiring, but of Hilditch's inconsistent selection methodology.

In his five years as head honcho, Hilditch debuted twenty-nine players, a neat half of which didn't play more than six Tests. It seems the only people he held to account were the newbies. Hilditch looked at players much like the fifteen year old who lusts at every girl who walks by. His tendencies varied from the youthful (Steven Smith) to the old bags (Bryce McGain).

Hilditch is gone, banished to the vagaries of law practice. Which is good, because we can still feel good about despising him.

The World realised they should have been giving Tendulkar runs a long time ago

Australia's bowling lineup isn't a patch on the attacks Sachin Tendulkar has flayed around the world for a generation. Siddle's pretty good, Harris is an injury looking for a body part, James Pattinson seems to have a bit about him, Hilfenhaus is good if your TV isn't Hi-Def while Nathan Hauritz Lyon failed to trouble any recognised batsmen for the entire Border-Gavaskar series. You could call the ugly stepsisters – in Siddle's case you'd be spot on, as the man has a head like a kicked-in biscuit tin.

But no matter how disheveled the Aussie attack, it's a novelty to write that Tendulkar failed with the bat. More poignantly, he couldn't complete that troublesome hundredth International hundred that's becoming an Obelix-sized bugbear for him and increasingly-frantic Indian media outlets.

Which is confusing, because he's broken nearly all the batting records there are. Records shouldn't trouble him, and especially this one, because it just doesn't mean much (it's a compilation of ODI and Test figures). However, it is a very pretty thing to have on one's resume.

Like an average Joe trying to impress a model, Sachin's got performance anxiety – something none of us would have attributed to such an accomplished player. The cricket world has now realised that bowling to Tendulkar is a lot easier when he's got 99 tons under his belt and they wish he'd just gotten there sooner.

Virat Kohli will be welcomed by Australian fans for the next decade

Aussie fans have always had someone from opposing teams to hate. We don't mind arrogance and cockiness from our own lot (unless it's Dean Jones), but when stuff is thrown at our boys, we get all Simon Katich pissy.

The ultimate example of this is Douglas Jardine. The last two decades have been rife with people who rubbed Aussie cricketers, and the populace at large, the wrong way. For the most part, these guys have been good players, which has only reinforced the average Skippy's frustration at them.

It reads almost biblically.

In the beginning, there was Douglas Jardine. Jardine begat Trevor Bailey, who batted with slowness of a one-legged (and dead) mule. Bailey begat Tony Greig, who in turn begat Richard Hadlee. Hadlee had a son, whose name was Pat Symcox, who in turn brought Sourav Ganguly into being. Ganguly bred his own nation of irritants, but none were more irritating than the spinner, Harbhajan Singh.

This was the first Border-Gavaskar series since 1999 in which Harbhajan Singh didn't play – and for the most part (and perhaps because they lost so badly), the team apparently didn't have anyone for us to actively root against: there was Tendulkar's timelessness, Dravid's stoic nature, Yadav's constant four-balls …

Except Virat Kohli. While succeeding leading the Indian batting averages, he p****d off every Australian he saw with an attitude as calming as the new tabasco-flavoured Red Bull.

And this will see him welcomed on these shores for the rest of his career – probably with the typical Aussie mix of grudging admiration and febrile swearing.

And on the eighth day, Harbhajan had a son, whose name was Virat Kohli.

Cricketing relationships

by Ben Roberts

I may be going to sound like Oprah or Doctor Phil, but there is clearly a deep emotional need for success in all cricketers. They cannot subsist on footwork and line and length alone, and the absence of beneficial outside relationships is quite possibly catastrophic.

Take for example the beginning of the Australian summer and the very public spat between always-fiery teammates Simon Katich and Michael Clarke. Their descent into the relationship abyss came at the lowest point of the entire Australian cricket family for years, and no one would have then believed Clarke would be the captain to lead Australia to such a rapid turn in fortunes.

But things did turn around and success has come to Clarke's Australia; along the way, Clarke has related well to all comers, in particular Clarke and Ricky Ponting have in January 2012 picked up their very productive affair, missing since they last truly connected two years prior.

Ed Cowan, (c) Balanced Sports

Not only that, but this summer the new Australian selection panel (a long-established matchmaking institution) have been rather bolshie in taking plenty o’ gambles. In Melbourne they sent absolute opposites Ed Cowan and Dave Warner on a blind date (after Warner's early summer fling with Phillip Hughes clearly was a very one sided relationship) and the two openers have not looked back. Cowan in fact has spent most of the summer gazing at Warner lest he be struck by a missile from his blade!

All this is not to mention the bond that has occurred within the Skippy fast bowlers. Although Peter, Ben, Ryan, James and Mitchell know that they all cannot be included in the same team all of the time, they clearly feel and care for each other the way they have shared the Indian scalps around.

This relational need in cricket has seemingly gotten the attention of more than just the cricketing authorities.  This article link was passed over to me recently.  The tongue-in-cheek piece may require both a working knowledge of cricket and the Book of Genesis to fully appreciate the humour, however we can add it as evidence that maybe even a divine relationship is key for cricketing success.

The author Michael Jensen lists many of faith who have graced cricketing fields. Two stuck out on my mind for the era in which they played: England's Reverend David Sheppard was an ordained minister during his international playing days and later Bishop of Liverpool.  Australia's Brian Booth was an Anglican lay-preacher. Although previously aware of their non-cricketing backgrounds, when presented with them again reading this article, my first reaction was to exclaim to myself (and Zoe the dog) about the wilder types whom they shared dressing rooms.

Respectively, Sheppard and Booth teamed with Fred Trueman and Keith Miller, whom would hardly be described as shrinking violets. I wondered just how it went? Was there precedent for the Clarke/Katich troubles? Of course my first reference point is the modern day font of wisdom Wikipedia. Looking up both Booth and Sheppard, lo and behold both have their relationships with Trueman and Miller described, including that they were full of humour.

Now I am not proposing if looking for a life partner you give up the blind dates, internet chat rooms and bar crawling and head down to your local cricket club. Such a move may not go as well in practice as in theory, but on those days when it is 42 degrees, you're in the field defending 47, and the opposition is 0/278, look across to your mate at first slip/mid wicket/cover and realise that you may be sharing more than just the old thigh pad in the team kit!

Shaun Marsh's Test Average

Any reason to doubt the return of Shane Watson to the Australian side?  After his excellent 141 on debut at Kandy and a subsequent 81 straight after, Shaun Marsh's form has hit the toilets.  Apart from 44 in his first innings in South Africa (after/during which he suffered a debilitating back injury), his scores have continued to plummet.  With another failure today, it looks increasingly like Shane Watson will return to the Test side and bat 3 while the burgeoning partnership of Ed Cowan and David Warner faces up to the new ball.

Lies, Damned Lies and Statistics: Cricket's Moneyball effect

Ben Roberts

It's my turn to throw my voice into the vortex of latter opinion and desire borne out of the 2011 release of Moneyball. I only recently watched this film, and enjoyed it immensely. It's release has awoken the rest of the sporting world to a concept that was not even new in the period portrayed in the movie, but has been around for over 30 years. Suddenly everyone wants a piece of the action, and to find the killer measurable statistic for their sport of choice that separates the wheat from the chaff.

Baseball is a sport made for such a concept. Without going into much detail, in my opinion baseball lends itself so easily to this analysis due to: 1) being very static in gameplay with players not moving around the field randomly but in a definite order; 2) having direct cause-and-effect relationships in the game play, (for example an out always equals a run saved); 3) Major League Baseball being a market based sport (also replicated in many others but not cricket) meaning that value is something more easily determined as it comes in dollars and cents.

Cricket by contrast does not have such a static nature nor cause and effect relationships. While commentators always say that the best way to restrict scoring is to take wickets this is not an absolute (like baseball) until you talk about the 10^th wicket falling. Neither does the sport have a market-based nature, although players are shifting first-class teams more today, the game remains a sport played at the highest level as a regional representative.

The key premise of the theory is stated early in the movie when Jonah Hill's character tells Brad Pitt's character that for years they have been asking the wrong question. They should be trying to buy wins (a direct result of runs scored and restricted) not players. The improvement in statistics themselves had been around for many years, the trouble was the ignorance of the users.

Cricket has a multitude of data already at its disposal. Former Australian coach John Buchanan was known for recording extensive data and this became the norm for most first-class teams. The difficulty is that unlike baseball - where you can name what you want - in cricket, you cannot be as sure. Yes, more runs are important, but in Test matches you need to take wickets also.

So what if we just use such analysis for limited over matches where it's all about runs. Good idea, except last night I saw a rain interrupted T20 match get decided by the Duckworth-Lewis method which relies on wickets in a calculation of a par score. As well, we still seem to value bowling in limited over games, if we are truly only after more runs why not simply stock your team with 11 batsman who can nominally roll their arm over and field well?

The difficulty is that we do not know what the question to ask is; that is, what constitutes total value in a game of cricket? The entire premise of using such statistics is to restrict the questions that you want the statistics answer, unless you want your statistics to prove any and all manner of things. 

To give an extreme example: You have two batsmen, 1 and 2. In traditional statistics both average 36 and have a strike rate of 72 runs per 100 balls. A normal innings therefore for either is to score 36 runs off 50 deliveries.  We have a dilemma: if we need to choose, both look equal - based on traditional measures. Turning more detailed statistical analysis, we find that Batsman 1 gets those runs in 36 singles, where Batsman 2 usually hits 6 sixes (I told you the example was extreme). Which batsman is the more valuable?

My initial reaction is to say Batsman 1 is more valuable in that they turn the strike over to the other batsman giving greater chance for team scoring while they are at the crease whereas Batsman 2 faces a stack of dot balls. But what is the effect on the bowlers? Does the potentially greater runs scored per single ball by player 2 make them more valuable? Unless you know what you really want statistics can tell you anything.

Don't read me wrong - such analysis has every place in the game but requires a liberal amount of common sense to be applied. You can easily measure the worth of two identically skilled players as above. You may use the above analysis in comparison to what the team needs, but you cannot make the clear cut decisions that they can in baseball as there is no single measure of value.

Ed Cowan at his best; (c) Balanced Sports

How would you statistically make the decision (as for the recent Melbourne Test) whether to play an opening batsman Ed Cowan or all-rounder Daniel Christian? To do so compares apples with oranges. In baseball, you can use a standard measure of total value to the team and cut through inconsistencies, in cricket understanding and intuition must still be applied.

I have only a rudimentary understanding of statistic usage, and someone more esteemed than I may be able to prove that there is a methodology escalating statistical analysis beyond being a support category in cricket decision making. But until that time remain wary of the limitations when trying to apply to cricket. Mark Twain believed it was Benjamin Disraeli who said "There are three kinds of lies: lies, damned lies, and statistics." Though it remains historically an un-sourced statement, there is still much truth to it.

Time-Lapse photostudy: The Ed Cowan leave

Whenever we get the chance, we try to put up (very short) photostudies of certain aspects of live sport.  Here, we feature the defining action of the first day of the Boxing Day Test: Test debutant Ed Cowan leaving a good ball.  This delivery also happened to be the first ball of the series, from Ishant Sharma, and the first time Cowan faced up in a Test match.