My Favourite Cricketer: Shoaib Akhtar, by Assad Hasanain

Assad Hasanain, of the superb AssadHas, writes on that most amusing playboy fast bowler: Shoaib Akhtar.  Assad tweets @assad_hasanain.

There were drugs. There were women. There were rumors of sexually transmitted diseases. There were tantrums. There were smashed skulls.  There was always adrenaline.  

Shoaib Akhtar's is one of the most fascinating soap operas to have come out of Pakistan cricket. It is of a free-spirited, proud and sometimes arrogant boy from Rawalpindi, who found his dreams in the world of cricket, but found with them the rules, the politics and pain that hounded him till the day he left.

There are many sub-plots to the Akhtar story, each as fascinating as the next. There is Shoaib the typical Pakistani boy; raised by an adoring family that struggled to make ends meet. Also, his angry, ill-tempered youth; where he picked fights on the streets, proudly wore scars on his chest and even carried a gun to scare off his enemies.  He was a cocky young talent who was kicked off a youth tour for indiscipline. 

Finally there is Shoaib the success story; the youngster who supplanted Waqar Younis in the Pakistan side, who conquered Tendulkar, who became the fastest bowler in the world and terrorized the best batsmen in the game.

On the Australian Captaincy

Steve Waugh has recently questioned the Australian selection panel in regards to their handling of the captaincy and of ousted wicketkeeper Brad Haddin.  He is well within his right to, considering his personal achievements and stature in the game.

Up until Ricky Ponting - the man whose temporary institution he contests - the opinions of most Australian captains are considered continuing testament to the spirit of cricket.  It speaks volumes of the man that Waugh's thoughts are said to represent the spirit of the game moreso than any of his contemporaries.

While Brad Haddin has reasons to be aggrieved regarding his "resting", Waugh's comments regarding the Warner/Ponting captaincy dichotomy are far from accurate.

Cricket Australia, especially post-Argus, has several structures in place to ensure strong leadership.  Although these structures are in place for a reason - in this case, ostensibly Warner's education - the fact is that he doesn't command the tactical respect of his comrades.  While Ponting's tenure could hardly be described as strong (c.f. Fabio Capello) he still inspires ultimate respect both as a cricketer and as a cricket brain.

The fact is there is no clear leader emerging to succeed Clarke.  There needs not be at this point, as the Australian captain is 30 and with several years of high-class cricket in front of him.  A second statement could be equally true: there is no need for a clear leader to emerge with Clarke at least five years from retirement.  This is especially true considering his reign as le dauphin could quite accurately be said to have destabilised the Australian team rather than the intended opposite.

Indeed there is somewhat of a leadership vacuum in those players of Clarke's vintage.  George Bailey, Andrew McDonald and Cameron White fail to command a place on form, while a possible logical successor, Steve O'Keeffe, is yet to make his mark on the national team.  Warner, who captains the Big Bash's Sydney Thunder, is the best of those in the current framework: a guy who regularly looks to hook wide bumpers the first ball after drinks breaks.

By extension, Ponting is the best candidate for the job - especially now Clarke has cemented his authority.  There should be no quibbling about the next generation or confusing structures, but the captaincy is such an award we should be careful to whom it is awarded.  It needs to reward for effort and talent, not a prize given for potential.  Do we want to be like England of the 1980s, where the likes of Chris Cowdrey fronted up to toss the coin?

Although Warner has achieved much in the past six months, he does not deserve - yet - the honour of leading his country in what was once the world's leading form of cricket.

My Favourite Cricketer: Andy Bichel, by Nicko Hancock

In Balanced Sports' & World Cricket Watch's continuing series, we invite the best cricket writers and bloggers to explain what made certain cricketers their favourite.  For The Sledge's Nicko Hancock, that man is Andy Bichel - the best twelfth man in history.

I consider myself lucky to be born in 1989. It means that I grew up under the wing of some truly wonderful childhood influences: Fireman Sam, Postman Pat, and the Greg Blewett/Justin Langer opening combination.

As a kid, your choices are made for you by people who’ve lived more, who know better. When you’re a kid, still in an unfinished, malleable form, your elders impart wisdom and cliché and knowledge to you, like they’re branding a bull with the obvious. Quoth the schtick:

“Each day, the sun rises and sets.”

“The Earth isn’t flat.”

“Don’t drink orange juice after brushing your teeth.”

“Nice guys always finish last.”

I took this at face value, like a bank statement. But in the early 2000s, as I sprouted and spotted and haired, I learnt that sometimes nice guys don’t finish last.  They finish twelfth. Most of the time. And when they don’t, they typically bowl first change.

Such were the life and times of my teenage cricketing hero! And not ‘hero’ in the violent, sword-wielding way, although he could bruise a batsman; Steve Waugh wrote that my hero might have suffered in his career because of his generous and giving nature. He was a big, burly, blonde pace bowler from Queensland who played first class cricket for fifteen years.

To me, he was the Smiling Assassin, and to Adam Gilchrist, he was known simply as Midas. His name was Andy Bichel, and for reasons I’m sure you’ll soon understand, he is my favourite cricketer.

A Certain Level of Legitimacy

Writing about Mr. Bichel requires description buffered by wordplay: to see him play cricket, any of his nineteen tests or sixty-seven one day internationals, was to see a man whose body language and facial expressions betrayed everything about him, especially how badly he wanted to be there.

Andy Bichel bowled briskly. He batted stoically. He fielded with the intensity of a Labrador chasing a tennis ball, and he was always grinning, ear to ear, like a cat who has gotten away with it.

Finally! An international cricketer who was happy to be there. For whom "12th man" wasn't an insult. And he was the 12th man a lot, because, unluckily for him, he was the perfect twelfth man: valuable on multiple levels.

I don't know how many people took his presence on the team sheet as a comfort. I did.

Andy Bichel and Michael Bevan

Throughout the early naughties he could be seen carrying drinks, towels, and replacement gloves to the people who had been selected ahead of him. But he did it with a bounce in his step, his white teeth shown through a MacGyver grin. To me, it meant that he was somehow 'like me'; enthused and powered purely by the prospect of playing for Australia. It made me think of him as working-class, practically street-level, because you could see his enthusiasm for cricket written on his face, and as a teenager, I think I needed to see that from somebody who'd “made it”, who was out there, playing in the team that every Aussie kid wants to play in.

An outstanding state player for Queensland for fifteen years, he peaked as an international cricketer in the 2003 World Cup, outshining his more accomplished team mates in Glenn McGrath and Brett Lee. When Australia played England in the group stage, Bichel took 7/20 off his ten overs to limit England to 204, and when Australia's batsmen capitulated to 8/135 during their chase, Bichel was there to salvage the match with Michael Bevan, showing batting prowess that took most people by surprise.

And then, in the Super Six stage of the Cup, Australia slumped to 7/84 against New Zealand, before Bichel and Bevan again salvaged the innings. Bevan hit 56; Bichel top-scored with 64, then took 1/15 off five as 

Australia won a match they were losing for three quarters by 96 runs.

The team was behind him; Adam Gilchrist wrote that, "it didn't hurt that such a well-liked guy, who'd missed so many opportunities, was the one doing the damage."

Me? I was just happy he'd been picked. My hero. The bloke whom, during a wet test match against Zimbabwe, would slide into the crease using his pads as slides. The same guy who stood at third man at the MCG, his back turned to the crowd, leading them through his warm up.  He tapped his thigh; “we’re doing the gluts,” he called out.

I think people have forgotten how good he was. He made his ODI and test debuts in 1997, both in Australia, both against the West Indies. In the test match, he opened the bowling with Glenn McGrath in a game I didn’t see in which Michael Bevan took ten wickets. He was there at the centenary test, when Steve Waugh dressed up the Australian test team in replica caps and we thrashed England and I watched every day. And in 2003, he lead an Australian bowling attack minus McGrath, Lee, Gillespie, and instead containing Nathan Bracken, Brad Williams and Ian Harvey to the TVS Cup, against India, in India. In the final, he ripped out a vicious off cutter to remove Sachin Tendulkar, and I collected the newspaper clippings.

A year after his heroic sixteen wickets and 117 runs in the 2003 World Cup, he’d lost his Cricket Australia contact. Instead, he set his sights locally, and in the 2004-2005 Australian domestic season, he took a Queensland record sixty first class wickets in a year, and a twelve months later he was named Pura Cup Player of the Year, for his 452 runs at nearly 35 and his 50 wickets at 26 and, one assumes, for taking the last wicket in a final that Queensland won.

I always felt that Bichel had a certain level of legitimacy because to me he was a working-class hero who always looked like he was putting in as much as he had to offer; perhaps he'd just finished a day labouring on a construction site, and knocked off just in time to join the Australian team. I always got that impression of Bichel; it always seemed to me that he would have to make up time to his foreman.

And the stories of Bic are atypical of the man: being told he was 12th man for a test match and then helping Brett Lee work through some crucial kinks in his technique; standing up for Adam Gilchrist when South African crowds abused him with rumours his wife had been sleeping with Michael Slater; turning Darren Lehmann's $100 into two grand at a casino in the Northern Territory (?); tearing in at training with a smile on his face at every damn session; to quote Steve Waugh, "the guy was a dream team man with quality and character in abundance."

Breaking Both Ways

Athletes give us two things: firstly, the ability to believe in someone, to foster that unconditional confidence in their ability. The faith a Collingwood supporter has in Dane Swan: "He'll kick us clear. Swannie'll do it." Or an Essendon fan's faith that with James Hird as skipper everything would be fine. That mid-1990s belief in Steve Waugh: "She'll be right. Tugga's coming in at number five."

Secondly, sportsmen allow us to leave our nine-to-five lives behind for a spot of escapism. You get to live their highs and their lows. That's the most important part of the bargain.

Andy, to me, fit both of those qualities. When the Aussies lost quick wickets or were a shambles in the field I would never dare write them off until Bic had had his say. That was my faith in him. Andy Bichel, with his good-naturedness and his ceaseless work ethic, was to me a sign that those "good bloke" qualities, that I so wanted to embody myself, could lead to success. That was my outlet for escapism. I could never feel the same about Ricky Ponting, or Brian Lara, or Sachin Tendulkar because I did not have the almost effortless talent they had.

Forget Australia's next "star spinner" or "extraordinary number three"; I wonder who'll be the next Andy Bichel?

Watch every episode of The Sledge at The Sledge TV.

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Tim Nielsen resigns, righting a four year-old wrong

Tim Nielsen has resigned as coach of the Australian cricket team. About bloody time, too.

After co-conspirator Hilditch, Tim Nielsen will be the most unlamented sacking in Australian cricket history. It's not that he's a bad coach - you don't get to his position without being capable - it's just that as former coach John Buchanan's right-hand man, he wasn't a sufficient enough change of message from his predecessor.

Under his watch, Australian national fielding standards declined from "world's-best" to the equally hyphenable "also-ran". They also rotated bowlers - in form or out - and attempted to dominate almost every situation, apparently unaware that circumstances had changed. Throughout his reign, Australia was hardly ever in position to be the aggressor.

It was, and three years later still is, time for a change.

courtesy: guardian.co.uk

Nielsen's appointment was perhaps the most alarming symptom of the malaise that overtook Cricket Australia last decade. On John Buchanan's retirement, rather than step out of their comfort zone - which they still refuse to do now - and appoint the best person for the job, they rewarded the loyal company man.

Rewarding the foot soldier can have it's advantages, but not in this situation. Buchanan retired saying he had taken Australia as far as he could. When a successful coach retires after a lengthy tenure, often a change of message (or it's delivery) is required as players have become accustomed to their former coach's motivation strategies. This change is hardly likely to come from a 2IC.

A close-to-home example is easy to point out. In 1996 the old ACB replaced successful coach Bob Simpson, who had with Allan Border pulled Australian cricket up from the depths, with Geoff Marsh. Simpson had no wish to leave, but the board felt the players needed to hear a change of voice. It turns out their suspicions were correct.

Steve Waugh was instrumental in Buchanan's installation as Australia coach, knowing he had the requisite technical knowledge and breadth of vision to help even the most established Australian players. Nielsen lacked both the technical knowledge and panoramic point of view. As an assistant coach, it was often his role liaise between players and coach. When moving from such a position to head coach, the distance between coach and players needed for objectivity and evaluation decreases.

This is one of the reasons why Nielsen's assistants, Justin Langer and Steve Rixon, should almost immediately be discounted as possibilities for the open position. Rixon in particular has form, coaching successful NSW sides as far back as the late eighties, but the team needs differing methods and better communication. It would be a logical to assume Langer especially is too close to the players.

The best replacement for Nielsen may already be within the system. Western Australia coach Tom Moody's style is a combination of discipline and evenness which proved successful when helming Sri Lanka. Even when his powers had faded as a player, his leadership was integral in Australia winning the '99 World Cup; he has coaching and captaincy experience in England, the subcontinent and at home. Should he decide to apply, he would be the logical frontrunner.

The Argus report continues to leave a bloody trail of carnage through the offices of Australian cricket. Whether this is for better or worse, no-one can yet tell. But certainly, it is wise to rid the setup of unpopular and underperforming elements. All Cricket Australia needs to do now is ensure they appoint the best coach for the role.

My Favourite Cricketer: Curtly Ambrose - Matthew Wood

As we involve noted cricket writers and bloggers on our topic "My Favourite Cricketer" - the brainchild of Balanced Sports' Matthew Wood - sees the series creator delve into his happy childhood memories to pay homage to the baddest, coolest fast bowler in recent memory: Curtly Elconn Lynwall Ambrose.

As cricket fans, we favour iconoclasts and champions. Every player in this series is likely to fall into one category or the other. The players who appeal most express a certain freedom - of emotion, thought, preparation, leadership or skill. Our game, more than any other, creates artistry - in batsmanship, bowling, fielding and captaincy. That liberty allows one to create results from nothing a la Shane Warne, to redefine the game as Jardine or one's own game like Lillee; to propagate evolution by force of will alone in the mould of Allan Border or simply just to be oneself, enormous moustache and all - Merv Hughes.

I spent months considering who actually is my favourite cricketer; narrowing the list of potentials proving more difficult than anticipated. Certain players I respect for their skill and resulting achievement: Sir Donald Bradman, Warne or McGrath. The Chappell brothers remain straight-shooters, one an iconoclast and the other a fractured savant. My childhood favourite? Merv Hughes. Stylistically, no-one comes within galaxies of Sir Viv Richards, while the greatest moment of cricket perspective was Keith Miller's "Pressure is a Messerschmitt up your arse, not playing cricket".

Curtly Elconn Lynwall Ambrose didn't redefine fast bowling, but re-imagined it. The last in almost a half-century of the truly great West Indian pacemen, he not only picked up the legacy of forbears Hall, Griffith, Roberts, Holding, Croft, Garner and Marshall but added his own chapter to cricket's most exciting history. His stature - 6'7 - led to constant, inevitable and overstated references to a basketball career, but he shouldn't be remembered for that length but for it's deadly effect when combined with his natural talent and work ethic.

Fast strides to the wicket turned into a quickish amble as the years passed, but Ambrose casually delivered the ball from over 9 feet high at extreme pace for twelve years at Test level. Instead of losing accuracy due to his height, he turned that divine gift into a stock ball which reared off a good length: he had the accuracy of McGrath, the malice of Holding, the movement of Marshall and the faster changeup of the killer Roberts. He had everything any fast bowler could want, including a murderous yorker and a bouncer so evil it hissed "Luke, I am your father" as the ball passed their throat.

Loose-jointed and almost outrageously fast, he was the evolutionary Joel Garner. His languid appearance, nevermore on show than when bowing to Bay 13, often gave the impression of coasting. He could afford to celebrate victories as they kept him going - cricket never meant that much to him. Unlike some others, he appeared a to have a life outside cricket and now combines with former captain and fellow Antiguan Richie Richardson in a reggae outfit.

After years of competition between bowlers to get into the West Indian side, the destiny of their pace attack rested with Curtly, who became the sole embodiment of the Caribbean fast bowling progression. He was criticised more often for coasting than he actually did. Much of that may have come from poor use as necessity harnessed him into the role of combo bowler, stock-plus-strike. Perhaps fittingly his only competition for the title of "best paceman" over the past twenty years is McGrath, who successfully combined those fraught roles. The large man was human and prone to emotion which focused his mind on delivering missiles that seemed to come from orbit.

That human side came out in his final assault on Australian shores in 1996-97. Down on form and luck, he announced before the third Test in Melbourne he would take ten wickets and Brian Lara would score a century. Lara couldn't fulfill his end, but Ambrose performed magnificently, taking 9 for 72. So good - and gracious - was he that no-one begrudged his success and most were left disappointed when he couldn't quite manage the ten-fer. After missing the next match through injury (unsurprisingly, the West Indians lost), he returned for Perth and in a 10-wicket triumph took 7/93 - Curtly owned Perth.

His Test averages speak for themselves: 405 Test wickets at 20.99 and an Economy rate of 2.3. He has the lowest economy rate of any fast bowler with over 200 wickets, and is fifth overall. The average stands the third best of any of the greats: .05 behind Marshall and .02 behind his prototype Garner.

Ambrose's most famous moments came against the Australians - he toured Australia three times - in 1988-89 as a rookie , in 92-93 as the best bowler in the world and in 1996-97 as a fading force still commanding ultimate respect.

The most revered spell of fast bowling in recent Australian memory, talked about as the greatest of follies of all time occurred in a One-Day match in Brisbane in 1993. The recently-reinstated Dean Jones asked him to remove his white wristband. Instantly, commentators, spectators and the West Indian fielders knew he had made a mistake and Curtly told him so - in words and actions. He unleashed the most unholy spell of fast bowling, claiming 5/32 and running himself into an seeing-is-believing stretch of form climaxing when he ensured the retention of the Sir Frank Worrell trophy with a villainous spell of 7/1 at the WACA.

His 1995 stouch with Steve Waugh at Trinidad turned Bankstown's finest from "good" to "great" and was the last great tribulation for Waugh before he could claim to be amongst the all-timers. Curtly Ambrose, so long a man-mountain of fast bowlers, was Waugh's - and with Lara, Australia's - Everest. The best of the 1980s had to succumb to the best of the 1990s. West Indian cricket has not since been the same.

It's not fair - and very wrong - that Curtly Ambrose is probably not considered at the same level as Lillee, Hall, Marshall and McGrath. He was every bit as talented and driven as those bowlers yet for the majority of his career was supported by a gimpy Ian Bishop and the corpse of Courtney Walsh. After he became the attack leader, he never had the support of a Thomson, Warne or Gillespie, meaning he had to know when to attack and when to defend. The freedom to go all out was denied him for the last seven years of his career. His pacy Islander ancestors could rely on the guy at the other end joining you in ritually strangling the batsmen. Curtly could not.

Don't tell me Curtly Ambrose wasn't amongst the greats. Mike Atherton and Steve Waugh certainly think he was. His combination of lethal pace, pinpoint accuracy and devastating "troat balls". Of all the players I remember seeing, the one of whom I have the fondest memories for who he was, was Curtley Ambrose.

Back to series homepage for My Favourite Cricketer.

Ponting Punted?

Perhaps it all came about as a result of his run-in with Steve Smith. Maybe three Ashes defeats from four have finally taken their toll. It could be that his recent form - stunningly unresembling his best - may have marked his cards. But the Sydney Morning Herald has reported that Ricky Ponting's captaincy career could be in for its most stern boardroom test when the team returns from their World Cup campaign. The current tour could be his last as Australian captain.

It's fair that Ponting's reign is thrown into question both for his recent results and on-field attitude. His ascension to the captaincy seemed a case of "right place, right time": he was the standout candidate of a middling field when selectors last deemed generational change necessary. For the first time since Ian Johnson's departure, Australia lacks a clear successor. Of course the plan was for Michael Clarke to follow in his footsteps as the best choice available, but his performances in late 2010 and charisma (that of a moose) haven't endeared him to either public or selectors. In the SMH article which brought this issue to light it is suggested his stock has recovered somewhat.

There's nothing wrong with change for its own sake. Indeed given the recent re-emergence of his always-prominent petulant streak, it could be his teammates support him because of what he was, rather than what he now is. This is an admirable position and his achievements as batsman and leader demand that acknowledgement, but the stance is quite possibly flawed. It's eminently possible that Ricky Ponting is no longer the best man to lead Australia; it may even be that he's only kept the position recently due to a dearth of suitable successors.

What Ponting must remember is that stepping aside now would not be a sign of weakness, nor a commentary on his his success as captain. Context in sport, in life, is all-important. He was charged with the difficult task of maintaining supremacy with a deteriorating team; his record reflects the challenges he has faced. He started his reign as one of a half-dozen World Class players in the Australian team and ended it the only one. In twenty years, we will not look back and say "Ricky Ponting lost the Ashes three times", though it will be true. We will say he did a good - but not outstanding - job in trying circumstances and wanted to better his record right up until the end.

He's always been honest and open, yet it could be that his tenure should end for no other reason than it's just time to go. After leading his country for nine years in the most high-stress job in the country outside Prime Minister, perhaps it is time Ponting surrendered the position. He first led the Australian Test team on 8th March 2004, meaning he could well be facing cricket's equivalent of the seven-year itch - and feels it's time to move on to new challenges but is yet to recognise and submit to those desires. His outward stance is that he's not finished. The inward position could be very different.

In the excellent ABC cricket documentary "Cricket in the 70s", Greg Chappell recounts being told by his brother Ian that he was resigning the captaincy. Ian Chappell, one of perhaps a handful of the most influential figures in Australian cricket ever, was only captain of his country for eight series over just five years; on telling his brother - and heir apparent - he was retiring he just said "Mate, when you know, you'll know". Chappelli had burned out, just as Greg would do in the early 1980s. Kim Hughes would suffer the same affliction in 1985. All three - and Border and Ponting, too - had been subjected to stresses never experienced by Steve Waugh or Mark Taylor.

Ponting's reign is beginning to resemble that of Greg Chappell: great batsmen weighed down by expectation as captain. Chappell rose above it to finish on a high, but captained Australia only in forty-eight Tests. Ponting nearly doubles that total with eighty. He's also slightly older, with a slightly more ropey technique and has nearly 360 ODIs to his name. It is fair and understandable that he is tired, tetchy and irritable.

The physical signs of stress are obvious to outsiders. Barack Obama has vast quantities more silver hair than he did only two years ago and, back home, Julia Gillard and Kevin Rudd have both aged markedly while leading Australian politics. The US system of government allows a President to serve only two consecutive terms for two reasons - to share power and for the health of the President. Ponting looks old and tired.

These may be the last days of Ricky Ponting. If he goes, he won't be the first or last player to be "nudged" by the powers-that-be. It's a sad way for a star to go out, but the results of him hanging on may colour his captaincy even further in gloomy shades of blue.

Let's play the captaincy lottery!

The news that the Australian dressing room is split into camps for and against Michael Clarke's fait-d'accompli ascension to the captaincy is hardly surprising. Rarely is there a clear-cut situation after a captain departs the International scene, it just happens that Australia's Golden Age of cricketers were born spread out enough to produce three fantastic individual performers in Mark Taylor, Steve Waugh and Ricky Ponting, who was each the natural successor to the previous captain.

The Australian cricket team does not resemble those strong teams of the past. Indeed, it resembles more the squad of a divided central board: a board that plays favourites and is looking only towards short term results. Clarke has been management's Golden Hair'd Boy since before his elevation to the captaincy of Australia A in 2003 over more experienced teammates. True, he's been about the only certainty to retain his place in the national setup Post-Ponting, but his lack of ability to lead publicly - like the current Aussie skipper - only casts more doubt on his ability to be effective in a role which infamously shoulders nearly as much pressure as the Australian Prime Minister.

It was news to me that Marcus North and Callum Ferguson was considered by corners of the dressing room a more worthy Test captain than Clarke. That Cameron White - he of nearly ten years' Victorian captaincy - was also named was less surprising. (We actually posited on the best selections for captain here and World Cricket Watch did here) But after the last few months it's emerged that Clarke is no longer unanimously the best choice to captain Australia after Ponting's abdication.

Are there any more questions as to why? Watch one of his pressers and you'll know. He's about as transparent as shopfront glass and just as interesting. It's not just that though: it's his lapsed romance with "Australia's Classiest Lass" Bingle, it's also his dressing-room confrontation with Simon Katich after a win last year and especially his veiled criticism of IPL-playing teammates in such a "holier-than-thou" manner. That he's nearly thirty and still bears the nickname "Pup" speaks volumes about his standing amongst his teammates: nicknames like "Rookie" or "The Kid" tend to disappear as the player assumes more authority but not in this case.

At present, both North and White are flawed selections, however. This is simply because neither of them are able to justify their place in the Test team through their performances. If a captain is unable to lead publicly then they must do so via their on-field prowess. This, particularly, is what makes Clarke's case compelling - he is now rivalled only by his openers as a Test batsman. North and White, though both decidedly more affable and having more domestic leadership experience, have been unable to establish themselves in the Test side due to a lack of consistency, skill, opportunity or New South Wales blood. In order to justify his position as skipper, a captain must deliver on-field and cricket history is rife with examples of leaders picked for their interpersonal or schmoozing skills but lacking the requisite on-field graft: Mike Brearley. Brian Booth. Lee Germon. Mike Denness. Darren Sammy. Chris Cowdrey. It's no coincidence that three of the aforementioned are English, installed by an MCC board attempting to still the waters of revolution. The revolution is coming again: this one Free Agency, pioneered by the West Indies, if only this time by necessity and money rather than by any pioneering spirit.

There always remains the ability to grow into the public leadership role as Alan Border did. Border, a notoriously private man off the field, grew taciturn at even implied criticism yet was able to turn his media discomfort into an advantage as he created a whole new persona for himself as "Captain Grumpy". The problem with Clarke is that that he's had International leadership experience now for the best part of five years and has yet to grow into this role. He hasn't shown a maturity of personality that's come with this experience, just a realisation that his performances have to justify his exalted status and as such he withdrawn into himself both on the field and off. Rather than grow and expand his focus outward, Clarke has retracted with his eyes firmly on himself. It's not selfish, because I'm certain he sees himself as leading via performance rather than by inspiration.

And that's not to say that one must choose to lead by performance or by inspiration. Both Mark Taylor and Steve Waugh were able to do so successfully. So were Clive Lloyd and Sir Viv Richards - in fact, all the great captains were able to combine the two elements. Border grew into leading both ways. It's just one tends to, by their own experience, develop - value, even - one style more than the other.

Ponting's imminent pasturing is not the real reason to sweat on a new captain. The skipper has shown no signs of wanting to retire nor would it make any sense for him to play on under a new captain, so if Australia wants him, the get him as captain. The greater concern is that unlike their famous "We love the Underdog" mentality, the turmoil surrounding the national team corresponds with dramatically falling interest levels in cricket in Australia. The current squad doesn't need an heir apparent, it needs stability to come from anywhere: performances, selections, the future. A captain with the ability to combine performance and attitude will emerge in time, but perhaps not in time enough to still Australia's slide into cricketing no-man's-land.

Definite, Probable, Maybe ... Definitely Not.

When looking down the list at the Australian team that recently surrendered almost without whimper to India in Bangalore, it became apparent that Marcus North has an incredible ability to make runs when the pressure is on him but never scores when the pressure's on his team. His recent high-score of 128 brought his average up from 33 to 37. When taken in context, that's on a par with such luminaries as Neil McKenzie, Nathan Astle and Sanjay Manjrekar. On form – and on reputation, given his unpopularity with Australian fans – that seems about fair for a player who convinces no-one that he's about to usher in the next era of Australian greatness.

So drop him. The Australian team is unquestionably rebuilding – with Ricky Ponting, Mike Hussey, Simon Katich, Brad Haddin and North all the wrong side of 30 and unlikely to be present for Australian cricket's next period of sustained success, it's time to remove those players who won't be present in five years time and replace them with players who will be.

During the last major Aussie cricket remodelling, coach Bob Simpson and captain Allan Border identified early which players had the talent and application to be part of a winning system. Upon Simpson's hiring, the “definites” were Border, Steve Waugh, David Boon and Craig McDermott. Dean Jones and Geoff Marsh were listed as “probables”. On deciding who had the stones to stick, they then set about building a side around those players, trying a number of players in different positions in the XI – for instance it took three different wicketkeepers before chancing on Ian Healy and five spinners before Shane Warne was found. The great Australians of 1991-2007 slowly began to emerge.

When looking back, is it surprising that those listed first – Waugh, Boon, McDermott – had the longest and most productive Test careers? The probables weren't failures by any stretch as both Jones and Marsh played over 50 Tests as well, but the “definites” now rank among Australia's all-time greats.

The parallels between the two eras aren't so clear cut yet only because this batch of ageing Aussies haven't yet walked off into the sunset. But as each player from that Golden Era goes, the Australian selectors have tried to replace almost like-for-like rather than with vision. Brad Hogg was replaced by Beau Casson, Jason Krezja, Nathan Hauritz, Bryce McGain and then Hauritz again. Ditto Glenn McGrath, who passed on the torch to Stuart Clark and then Doug Bollinger. Australia has to pick players according to where they will be in three-to-four years and not for their immediate benefits. Although Australia was blessed with a remarkable number of great cricketers born between 1968 and 1978, the cricket revival our country saw in the 90s didn't come about simply as the result of a Golden Generation but of the foresight of Bob Simpson and Allan Border.

Cycling through the Australian lineup you see several players who couldn't be listed as “definites” or even “probables” for an Ashes series in 2014-15. These guys slide between the categories “Maybe”, like Nathan Hauritz or an outright “No” a la Simon Katich, if only because of his age. It's time to selectively breed out these “maybe” and “no” players and replace them not with a player who replaces what they do but with players who have a chance to be great.

To give an example of the mindset required, please take the following example plucked from my own day to day life. My wife and I are in the process of moving across the continent. On the weekend we set aside time to work out what clothes we needed or wanted, and which clothes we should give away. After half an hour of back-and-forth I worked out why the process was taking so long – I had gone into the exercise looking for reasons to discard clothes, whereas she had begun looking for reasons to keep them. The Australian selectors need to take the “What can we discard?” attitude to the current crop of Test players. They've done so before – Brad Hodge being omitted two Tests after a double-hundred springs immediately to mind – and they should do so again. Given their current run of poor results, the incumbents aren't making a convincing case to stay.

The time has come for the pressure not to be placed on underperforming Australian players but on the underperforming selectors. It's the job of Messrs Hilditch, Boon, Cox and Hughes to make the choices that don't just benefit us with an Ashes series win, but with another reign at the top of international cricket.