Azhar Ali, pictured here in Uncharacteristically Unseemly Haste mode © AFP

As I write, Pakistan and England are hours away from resuming a rivalry that has sparked some of our great sport’s most cantankerous cricket and least savoury squabbles. This time, hopefully, tempers will be tempered, and the cricket will not be an incidental curtain raiser to the controversy.

Provided that the Gulf pitches are not unremittingly somnolent ‒ and they have had a tendency to display the spritely vigour of a hypnotised and hibernating walrus ‒ the cricket should be compelling. Pakistan have been stable and steady, if not resurgent, and are unbeaten in six series since the legal blooper at Lord’s, although of those series, only one was against a team ranked in the top five in the world (a not-especially-thrilling nil-nil draw with South Africa in the Gulf late in 2010, the highlights of which have not been challenging the top of the DVD bestseller charts).

England, meanwhile, have had a prolonged Test break after a nine-month period in which they annihilated two of their greatest rivals. For the previous couple of years, England had veered between brilliance and debacle, as if they had read Rudyard Kipling’s smash-hit poem “If”, taken on board his suggestion that they should seek to treat the two impostors Triumph and Disaster just the same, and therefore attempted to spend plenty of quality time with both of them in turn. They then decided that Triumph was the preferable impostor to hang around with, and have since scaled peaks of performance dominance untouched by English cricketers for generations.

This dominance has been founded principally on high-class swing bowling ‒ which will be a less potent force in the billionaires’ sandpit that is Dubai ‒ supported by a batting line-up that has pulled off one of the most startling collective improvements of recent times, feeding off each other’s successes and confidence like lions at an all-you-can-eat zebra buffet.

Some stats: In England’s three major series before last winter’s Ashes (v Australia in 2009, South Africa in 2009-10, and Pakistan in 2010), only Jonathan Trott averaged over 38, with Alastair Cook and Kevin Pietersen below 30. In England’s three major series after that (Ashes 2010-11, and against Sri Lanka and India last summer), five of England’s regular top seven have averaged over 50, with Cook and Ian Bell close to 100. Were they underachieving wildly before, or are they overachieving wildly now? Probably a little bit of both. This year should provide a reasonably reliable answer, and Pakistan in the UAE should offer a stern challenge for a side that is reaching for greatness.

The official Confectionery Stall series prediction: England to win 1-0, provided they are not distracted by wondering how and why Dubai came to be full of so many empty skyscrapers. Or scuppered by the wiles of Saeed Ajmal. Or neutered by the heat and pitches. Or about to embark on a startling collective dis-improvement. Or possessed by a sudden urge to abandon the seven-batsman-four-bowler strategy that has served them so well. In which case, they will win 2-1. Possibly. Or it might be 1-1. Depending on what happens, and who does what, and when they do it.

One to watch (England): Monty Panesar
He has been out of the England side for so long that it is easy to forget that Panesar was once much more than a bizarrely (and very intermittently) stylish No. 11 batsman, who in effect won the 2009 Ashes single-handedly. He was for a couple of years, against everyone other than India, a bowler of skill and penetration, and England’s most consistently effective spinner since Derek Underwood. He was then surpassed by the new England’s most consistently effective spinner since Derek Underwood, Graeme Swann.

Panesar is 29, with 125 Test and 500 first-class wickets under his specialist belt. With away series in the UAE, Sri Lanka and India, 2012 is a good year for him to be entering his tweaking prime. (Although his record in Tests in Asia is hopeless.) (But those Tests were quite a long time ago now.) (And England might not pick him anyway.) (Predictive punditry is pointless.) (What am I doing with my life?)

One to watch (Pakistan): Azhar Ali
Azhar Ali is a throwback, a one-man war against 21st-century batting fripperies, a defiant protector of the coaching manual. Of the 55 top-seven batsmen who have played ten Tests this decade, Azhar has the second slowest scoring rate, behind only Tharanga Paranavitana. Throughout his 18-Test career, Azhar has shown defiance, patience, and a willingness not to edge the first available outswinger to the slips that some more celebrated batsmen around the world would do well to emulate. He has the classical style and methodical approach of a 1950s cricketer (although it should be noted that his strike rate of 39 runs per 100 balls faced would, by 1950s standards, have made him something of a reckless cavalier). I find him quite fascinating to watch. I would not want all batsmen to play like Azhar Ali, but I do want some batsmen to play like Azhar Ali. Including Azhar Ali.

(Warning for neutral spectators: four of Pakistan’s current top six are in the Eight Slowest Test Batsmen of the Decade list. Whether that is a negative warning or a positive warning is up to you.)

Extras
I will write more about India’s statistically staggering disintegration next time. I have not enjoyed watching this cricketingly-macabre series, for all Australia’s excellence with the ball, and Warner’s thermonuclear innings in Perth. For a man recently viewed as a Twenty20 specialist, he has played two of the best innings of the decade in his first five Tests, which he, the baggy green selectors, and the whole of Baggy Greenland must be quite excited about. Maybe Pakistan should unleash Azhar Ali in their next T20s.

Most players and teams eventually decline before finally departing the scene, but few have done so as precipitously as Dhoni’s India. A year ago they had won several Tests by chasing down testing totals with skill and resilience. They had won in England, drawn in South Africa, and beaten Australia twice. They were about to successfully withstand arguably the most-high pressure cricketing campaign of all time. They were a good team, and a tough one. Now they are neither of those. They have responded to adversity in England and Australia by fighting like cornered tigers ‒ but tigers which, once cornered, have been shot at point-blank range and turned into fetching fireside rugs.

At least if India want to seek inspiration from a team that has emerged rapidly from an apparently long-term slump, they need only to knock on the home dressing room door and ask for a cup of tea and a chat.

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Dean Brownlie: featured in a yet-to-be-published chapter of the Argus report titled, "Lessons from the Shield across the ditch" © Getty Images

Another Test, another scintillating finish. Test matches are supposed to provide greater variety and texture than the limited-over game, but recently all they have given us is a monotonous riot of thrilling dramas, a tediously predictable sequence of wildly fluctuating nail-biters. Yawn. No wonder the crowds have been so small. What Test cricket needs is more high-scoring draws.

The Hobart Test* was a historic one for New Zealand, who overcame both their Antipodean rivals and their own batting indisciplines, to record a landmark victory so exciting that even the dolphins in the Tasman sea reportedly bunked off from fish-eating duties and listened in to the radio commentary on their in-built sonar.

(A conversation between two bottlenose dolphins intercepted by an ESPN submarine and translated by Cricinfo’s in-house marine biologist proceeded as follows: “Hey, Maureen, that was worth missing out on that shoal of herring for, eh?” “Damn right, Gerald. What a game. Most of the batting was pretty rubbish, but that was sporting theatre of the highest order.” “Sure was, Maureen. I never thought I’d live to see the day that New Zealand won in Australia.” “More fool you, Gerald. This Australian batting unit has been an accident waiting to happen for ages. And an accident actually happening several times during those ages.” “Fair point, Maureen. But I thought that brilliant win in Johannesburg would have given them some good old baggy-green confidence.” “No, Gerald, it camouflaged the same old failings. As soon as the ball starts moving around, they’re in trouble.” “I’m the same with fish, Maureen. If they’re going in a straight line, no problem, snap, gulp, yum. But a bit of swing either way, I’m going hungry.” “That’s because you go at the fish too hard, Gerald. If the fish is moving, you’ve got to wait for it, try to play it late, with a soft snout. Your problem is that you’ve had too long eating fish that don’t move about, and now the sea has become more conducive to swing again, you don’t have the technique to cope with it. Or the patience. Or the discipline. Which I find both strange and disappointing in an experienced dolphin like you.” “All right, Maureen, you’ve made your point. And let’s give some credit to the fish, they were the better sea creature on the day.” “That’s true, Gerald, but you made it very easy for them. The fact is, you’re only still in this school because the young dolphins coming through aren’t up to scratch yet.” “Shut up, Maureen, shut up. I’ve still got it. I know I’ll come good some day soon. I’ll catch some mackerel or something. Honest. I’m too good not to. Look at my career record.” “Yadda yadda yadda, Gerald. Cripes, we’d better move it. That sounds like a Japanese fishing vessel. We’d better shift or we’re going to end up on the wrong side of a bit of wasabi.”)

I digress. Hobart showcased the continuing crisis in Australian batsmanship, which, if not quite as severe or globally momentous as the Eurozone crisis, has nevertheless lasted far longer than it should have done. And the baffling nature of that crisis was highlighted by the fact that the most technically sound Australian batsman in the game was playing for New Zealand. Dean Brownlie played like the seasoned international veteran that he isn’t, a man not considered good enough even for first-class cricket in Australia, who outshone the stalwarts of his former country’s Test team.

For just the second time since the 1880s, Australia’s top 7 between them returned 13 scores of under 25 in a Test match. (The previous occasion was in Karachi in 1988-89, when the fact that Pakistan selected a grand total of zero seam bowlers hinted that they were trying to catch Australia on a turning wicket.) Only David Warner’s brilliant, pigeonhole-defying century, in which a supposed limited-over biffer with minimal first-class experience batted with restraint and selectivity whilst 30-something veterans pushed at and chased the swinging ball, saved them from one of the greatest statistical ignominies in 120 years of Baggy-Green batsmanship.

In Cape Town, just a month ago, the Australian top 7 had posted 12 scores of less than 25 – it was only the fourth time that had happened since the First World War.

Most concerningly for Australia, the experienced players have led the way, unable to find a way to halt the collapses, repeating the same hard-handed errors. In the two recent two-Test mini-series, Clarke has scored a dazzling century in each, one of which was an early candidate for innings of the decade, but has also been out for 22 or fewer in his other five innings. Hussey passed 20 just once in seven innings, and Ponting, whose long-term struggles are statistically irrefutable, only twice. Haddin made important half-centuries in Johannesburg and Brisbane, but has not scored more than 35 in his other 12 innings this year. Watson, after hitting 16 fifty-plus scores in his first 18 Tests as an opener up to the end of 2010, has added just one more half-century in six Tests in 2011.

For many years, Australian youngsters early in their careers would watch and learn from their seniors. It appears they are still doing so. Hughes has reached 40 in two innings out of 15; Khawaja has batted for at least 45 minutes in all but one of his 11 Test innings since making his debut in the Sydney Test in January, but he has passed 40 only once.

The year 2010 was bad for Australian batting, culminating in their Boxing Day Ashes debacle, a performance so inept that the ghost of Bill Ponsford reportedly chained himself to the railings outside the MCG in protest, waving a placard reading: “Knuckle down, for heaven’s sake.”

The year 2011 has been even worse. In eight Tests, Australia’s top 7 batsmen have collectively averaged 33.5, their lowest since 1988, a year in which the Australians were more than a little inconvenienced by having to face Ambrose, Marshall, Walsh and Patterson in three Tests out of eight.

Only the first Test against India offers the hope of redemption for a year in which 60% of the Australian top 7’s innings have ended with a slow trudge back to the pavilion, head bowed, baggy green that little bit baggier, after being out for less than 25. That is the highest failure rate by the Australian top 7 in any year since 1984. That was also a year in which they were more than a little inconvenienced, this time by having to face Marshall, Garner and Holding in consecutive five-Test series, a task which, for a batting line-up, must have been as appealing as being a human guinea pig in an experiment to calculate the effect on the digestive system of being repeatedly smashed in the stomach with a baseball bat.

*1330GMT, December 16: Corrected to change the scorecard link which was previously directing to the Brisbane Test

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