Will Eoin Morgan's methods work in the longest version? © Getty Images

The headlines said that Paul Collingwood and Stuart Broad are being “rested” from England's first Test against Bangladesh later this week. True enough, if they aren't in the squad, they won't be playing, but it's a funny old defintion of “rest” which means that Broad will be pumping iron pretty intensively in the gym to build his strength up while Collingwood does rehab on his shoulder. The basic message is that 90% fit is not fit enough: they would rather have eleven fully-fit players than the eleven theoretically-best with a couple of them unable to perform to their maximum.

It takes a bit of getting used to, but it is the logical result of year-round international cricket. The old-timers would have raised a stink rather than an eyebrow at “resting” a first-choice player from a home Test, but in their day a player who was getting jaded would take the winter off to get recharged after too much cricket: the only tour it was impermissible to sit out voluntarily was an Ashes. (Well, you could sit it out if you chose, but it would put a big blackmark in the selectors' notebooks.)

The immediate consequence is that Eoin Morgan is set to make his England debut in the long form of the game, which will be fascinating.

Since I tipped him for success a year ago, Morgan has amply demonstrated that he is one of the most exciting limited-over players in the world, but picking him for Tests represents quite a leap of faith by the selectors.

Morgan's first-class record is pretty modest. His career amounts to 2500 runs at 36, including 6 centuries, one of them a not-out double. Not exactly screaming for Test selection. Nor has he been distinguishing himself in the first half of this year's championship: what with the ODIs against Australia, the IPL and the World Twenty20, he last played a first-class match last August, when he scored 16 and 17 against the might of Glamorgan.

And it's a well-known fact that there are players who are geniuses against a white ball but rather less than overwhelming when it comes to Tests. Michael Bevan was known as the greatest finisher of them all in ODIs – and left-handed rocket power at the end of an innings is also what Morgan is good at – but he never established himself as a Test player. Despite having played the format for seven years, Yuvraj Singh has yet to really convince as a Test player while being one of the game's most dangerous one-day batsmen.

England will be hoping that he does not follow in their footsteps but instead treads the path marked out by Michael Vaughan, who had a similarly uninspiring first-class record when picked for England but blossomed into (briefly) the number one ranked Test batsman in the world.

Morgan could not be much further from Vaughan in terms of style. Vaughan was perhaps England's most classical batsman since Peter May while Morgan's range of shots has yet to be fully documented by researchers into new species. But what both of them have is extraordinary phlegm: one of Morgan's more impressive traits is his obvious calm at the crease whatever the situation – a coolness which Vaughan was required to show on his Test debut, finding himself standing there with the responsibility of digging England out of the hole of being 2-4.

It has to be said that it will be a major surprise if Morgan faces anything similar when he walks out to bat against Bangladesh. Nor is he all that likely to have to do the job with which Collingwood, whom he nominally replaces, has become most associated - that of remaining strokeless for hours trying to stave off almost inevitable defeat.

The suspicion is that if the scoreboard isn't clicking up the runs at a regular rate, Morgan will become frustrated and start playing silly shots and get out. With Morgan, of course, one has to be quite careful when describing a shot as “silly” because what is unconventional and unorthodox for a Vaughanesque batsman may be one of Morgan's most well-practiced strokes – but that probably won't stop people labelling a safe-looking backward flip which is impossibly caught by a salmon-leaping fielder as irresponsible.

Whether Morgan is a Bevan or a Vaughan is the question the selectors are appointed to estimate the answer to. And it can only be their best estimate: the beauty of this sport is that none of us, not even Morgan himself, can possibly know how he will fare until he goes out and tries.

The New Zealand - Sri Lanka series could open the door for cricket to take root in the US © CCUSA

The significance of the Sri Lanka versus New Zealand bilateral T20 series, which is due to kick off on May 22nd, is considerably enhanced by a quick look at the location of their clash: Central Broward Regional Park, Lauderhill, Florida; a classic “no-bad-seats-in-the-house” ballpark common in the minor-league baseball world.

International cricket has finally arrived in the US. And unsurprisingly it is the T20 variant that has breached the ramparts and made it over the top.

There are several reasons why this development should be of interest. Firstly, a new international venue in a minor cricketing country always holds the potential to broaden cricket’s player and fan base (success in Florida might see the development of a parallel situation in California).

Secondly, for the fans that live in the US in semi-exile, this provides a fix for the craving for live cricket. Lastly, and most significantly for me, cricket in the US has always been shown in its genteel, park cricket variant. One of my beefs with Joseph O’Neill’s excellent Netherland was that his authorial energies and talents were devoted to lyrical descriptions of relatively mellow park cricket. This will be top-class international cricket, and in a small venue, the power, speed and athleticism of a T20 cricketer will be on full display for an American viewer (and will hopefully lead us away from the situation I bemoaned in these columns some time ago).

Thirdly, there are several lip-smacking potential matchups possible in the future. Obviously, any game involving India will attract large crowds but I suspect West Indies, England, and Pakistan games would also do well. Florida is easily accessible from those areas on the East Coast that feature large Indian, Pakistani and West Indian populations (Florida itself is home to a large immigrant community from the Caribbean). English fans are numerous on the East Coast and will no doubt travel in significant numbers. Given the globetrotting capacities of the Barmy Army, they will feature at Florida games (what’s not to like about a destination featuring beaches and beer?).

In general, Fort Lauderdale’s proximity to East Coast cities and the short-n-sweet nature of the series makes for a great cricketing vacation. Jump on a short flight to Florida, rent a car, check into a hotel, hit the beaches, go to the game, then back to the beaches after the game. (Harried parents might combine this with a Disneyland trip up north).

Most ambitiously, I forecast the following: young Americans, no matter what their ethnic background, might be sufficiently enthused by the international version of the game to think about playing the game seriously. It is not inconceivable that down the line there will be Americans vying for spots in the future global versions of the IPL, participating in a true free market of cricketing labour. OK, I’m done with my pipedreams.

There are concerns, of course (the floodlight snafu is a small example). Will the pitches be conducive to good cricket? The local authorities have taken this seriously and appear to have sought expert assistance in the form of a Kiwi groundsman. Will the games have the atmosphere associated with an international T20? Given the India-Pakistan experiences in Toronto, I don’t see why not. Will large enough crowds turn up to make this into a worthwhile investment? As indicated above, I think that for the right matchups, finding large crowds will not be a problem, provided the local association gets the word out at the right time in the right places.

Cricket in the US might still go the way of many other curiosities that have made splashy appearances on these shores, only to be followed by slides into obscurity. For now though, it’s time to give the Destination USA folks’ adventure a fair chance.

Thanks to the over-enthusiastic hyping of Indian cricket, Indian fans seem to have confused economic power with cricketing power © Getty Images

Brawlgate is singularly depressing in reminding me of just how ugly the flip-side of Indian fanhood can be. Unrealistic expectations and exaggerated over-reaction, are, as many brighter lights than me constantly point out, the hallmark of this mode of existence. And as in any dysfunctional relationship (from a not-so-great-distance, this is what it appears to be) things won't change till both parties do. The players "simply" need to play better. The task for the fans is much harder.

What precisely is it that creates such over-wrought expectations? The Indian team has never approached the consistency of champion teams. The local maxima of a good performance in one tournament or Test series is very quickly succeeded by the trough of a catastrophically bad performance. What is consistent about Indian teams is that they are not very consistent. Perhaps this roller-coaster induces the exaggerated reactions? But why doesn't it induce the calm of the long-distance traveller?

The answers for that question would take too long to detail in this space. But somewhere along the line, thanks to the over-enthusiastic hyping of Indian cricket (a hyping whose din only seems to have grown in recent years), Indian fans have perhaps confused economic power with cricketing power. And not only that, we seem to have confused the highlight reel, set to music, with the real-time pace of an actual cricket game. What else would make Indian fans forget that our bowlers are always on the mend, or on the sidelines, that our batsmen had not provided any evidence since the World Twenty20 of their improvement against the short ball, that our fielders still lack nous and verve?

That is, when you know your team has significant weaknesses in batting, bowling and fielding (did I leave anything out?), why demand so much? Why not, instead, settle for the pleasure of an unexpectedly good performance if it does happen to come along? I'm pretty sure there will be some later this year.

The purpose of therapy, Freud reminded us, was to get from misery to common unhappiness. Indian fans, like neurotics the world over, would make themselves, and possibly others, less miserable, if they could adjust the settings on their expectation meters and come to grips with the reality principle in their domain of interest.

Which is, in short: you win games consistently if you play the game at a consistently high level. And if we would cast our eyes about, we would notice scant evidence for this proposition when it comes to Indian cricket. (There are Test-playing countries that we have still not beaten in an away series).

My purpose in this post isn't to denigrate the Indian team. They have a pretty rock-solid claim on my loyalties. But I have to remind myself that we don't have the domestic infrastructure of champion teams, that our board is run by non-cricketers, and that our young cricketers are rewarded excessively for too little, too early. In these circumstances, talent-spotting and nurturing is hard, selection policies are Kafkaesque at best, and the motivation of all but the most disciplined is likely to flag. Combine all of this with the undoubted presence of cricketing talent and we have the recipe for inconsistent, sporadically delightful, performances.

Searching for the golden mean is always a good idea. But judging by the evidence from BrawlGate, many Indian fans simply couldn't be bothered to join in this particular quest for moderation.

	At last, England has left the club of never-won-anythings © Getty Images

I had expected to get more excited when England won the World Twenty20, but as it was all I felt was a mildly warm glow. I don't think it was because it was “only Twenty20”, though, but because the final was so undramatic.

I punched the air and cheered as the first three Australian wickets went down, but from then on the match took on a peculiar inevitability. Australia never looked like getting a really challenging total, and when England had got through the Powerplay with only one down, it never really looked as though they would not get there. It was a thoroughly efficient and professional performance, the proverbial but run-of-the-mill good day at the office. But without the tension of will-they-won't-they permeating the match, there was no explosion of relief and joy as they got over the line, just quiet satisfaction.

A world title is a world title, though, and at last, we have left the club of never-won-anythings to join South Africa, India and New Zealand in the haven't-won-muches.

If a single player had to win the Player of the Tournament, then Kevin Pietersen was a good choice. His most un-English characteristic is a love of praise and adulation; most Brits at least affect humility and embarrassment when showered with praise, but KP positively radiates joy. Unlike a lot of people, the best way to motivate him is to tell him how brilliant he is: he is not a man to rest on his laurels but to eat them for nourishment. And as several people from various squads and fan-bases have said, it is excellent for world cricket that KP is back on song, since he provides some of today's most compelling spectacle in any form of cricket.

But if the rules had allowed it, I would not have given him the award. The real engine of England's success was the five-man bowling attack who bowled all but about three overs of the team's entire campaign.

Each of them had a game where they were the pick of the unit and, with the possible exception of Graeme Swann, they each had a game where they did not do quite as well as the others, but as a whole they were fantastically consistent. No team ever looked like taking the bowling apart and launching themselves into the stratosphere, whether they were batting first or chasing whatever target England had set. There was variety in pace and angle, but what was truly impressive was their quick assessment of how to bowl to the conditions and the specific batsman and execute their plan with aplomb.

Of course, that has always been England's strength in limited-overs cricket: the team's lack of success over decades has been because the batting was not adventurous enough,not because the bowling was particularly inadequate. The volume of limited-overs cricket on the county circuit means that most bowlers have a pretty good idea of how to bowl to keep the runs down, in which most county batsmen cheerfully acquiesce – and that acquiescence has shaped the feeble batting at international level.

Triumph whets the appetite for more, so speculation has already begun about what this means for the future of Andrew Strauss in the 50-over side, of which he is still nominally captain and whether England will retain the Ashes, but to me those are issues to be thought about later. Now, we can say that England are the best international Twenty20 side and start laughing at someone else.

When was the last time an out-of-form player said something like "there's no doubt the selectors will need to have a look at my performances"? © Getty Images

In a recent article I made reference to Michael Clarke's commendable dignity in the face of his much-publicised split with his fiancee. His latest comments after Australia's loss in the World Twenty20 final only serve to reinforce my view that as a person and as a character he shows many admirable qualities that befit the status of the highest sporting office in his country.

What's impressive (and clever) about his frank admissions about his own poor Twenty20 form is that he's coming out and saying what almost everyone is thinking - "I certainly know they [my performances] haven't been up to scratch through this whole tournament and probably in Twenty20 cricket in general," Clarke said after the final defeat in Barbados. "I'm sure the selectors will sit down and have a look and if I'm not the right guy for No. 3 and the captaincy then they'll make that decision." By loading his own gun, he not only displays an honesty that is refreshing but he also ensures any criticism that is likely to come his way is bound to be muted. It's very difficult to be crucify an honourable man who offers no excuses or tries to hide behind a smoke screen.

Yes, I am one of those people who think his spot in Australia's Twenty20 side should probably go to another youngster in the domestic ranks. Someone like Adam Voges can also bowl handy left-arm darts, Travis Birt is a powerful hitter, George Bailey is not only a fine hitter but good leadership material too, Lee Carseldine is a classy performer and Callum Ferguson is due back from injury soon. Peter English's mature and sensible piece today is exactly the sort of perspective one needs in the aftermath of disappointment. No need to rush a decision on Clarke's Twenty20 future but equally, it needs to be addressed at some point in the future if the selectors are fair dinkum about selecting the best possible team.

One of Clarke's problems is that because of the scheduling of Australia's domestic Twenty20 tournament, he is unlikely to play in that format and stake his claim or improve his skills. His non-involvement in the IPL is another problem - one less platform to show what he is capable of and one less stage to work on improving certain key aspects of his game. So how he goes about trying to justify his future selection or change his game to a more power-oriented style is a question left unanswered.

The curious thing is that Clarke, in his youth, had the shots to be the perfect Twenty20 batsman. He was renowned for being a flashy stroke-maker. And with today's cricket bats, you don't even need to be a muscle-bound Adonis to clear the boundaries. Players like Gautam Gambhir, Salman Butt, Mahela Jayawardene and Shivnarine Chanderpaul are not big men either. They seem to have the ability to hit boundaries so it's certainly not a physique thing. Not that Clarke is a diminutive chap by any means but he's not quite the build of a Cameron White, Chris Gayle or even an Angelo Matthews. So it's obviously something about his technique that seems to limit his ability to swing freely. He holds the bat much lower down the handle than he seemed to do when he first broke into the international game. And his quick feet almost seem to disadvantage him in the sense that because he gets so close to the ball, he can comfortably chip down to long-on and long-off without having to swing hard to compensate for being further away from the pitch of the ball.

If you watch someone like David Hussey, he almost tries to keep some distance away from the ball to allow his hands longer leverage. The modern sloggers tend to open up their stance and swing through the arc whereas Clarke generally tends to hit more classically down the ground when he's looking to hit a six. His only six of the tournament, against Bangladesh, was a classical little chip over the bowler's head, timed to perfection but not hit with savage intent. That's a lot different from the way a Shane Watson or White or Hussey attempts a six. They try to hit it out of the park, thereby giving themselves more latitude for error. If Clarke gets it slightly wrong, he tends to hole out to the boundary fielder, as he did against Bangladesh when he tried to repeat that very shot against Mohammad Ashraful.

I just think it's a refreshing change to see a captain (or any player for that matter) adopting such a frank attitude to their own form. When was the last time an out-of-form player said something like "there's no doubt the selectors will need to have a look at my performances"? He's almost inviting them to consider dropping him, if his output doesn't benefit the overall team cause. And that's one of the really powerful traditions of Australian cricket teams; they really do believe in the mantra that the team comes first and if that means the captain himself must fall on his sword, Clarke is living proof of that proud, unselfish tradition.

I've seen it happen time and time again in Australian sport where the leader never expects to be judged any differently to his foot soldiers and where unselfishness is a hallmark of the very best of Australian traits. I've done a lot of research into the ANZAC legends and this sort of image keeps cropping up there too, of leaders prepared to make hard calls on themselves and perhaps even making the ultimate sacrifice if it meant victory for the overall cause. I'm not saying it's a uniquely Australian thing - nothing annoys me more than when universal human qualities (or foibles) are referred to as being uniquely Australian (or un-Australian) - but nonetheless, having lived in a few different places around the world, there's a lot to admire about the way Australian leaders leave their ego at the door and devote themselves to their team cause.

Actually, I'm not entirely correct in that assessment. Australian politics is unique in that respect - our fearless leaders in that sphere show no such courage or honesty. Can you ever imagine them saying what Clarke has just said about himself? No, they'd just send a junior Minister out to sell the bad news. "Oi, David Warner or Steve Smith, just pop out and do that press conference today will you? Wish Collingwood all the best and say that I'm busy trying to figure out which players let me down in this tournament. I can't do everything for this team you know!"

Saeed Ajmal's moment of despair © AFP

It is not often that Pakistan’s supporters feel like hugging their team in defeat, but you can sense this mood rippling across the fan base on the day after. Pakistan is traditionally vilified for its inconsistency, but at the core of Pakistan’s approach there is actually a great economy of effort. Pakistani teams are known to squander head starts, fritter away advantages, and give up easily. Yet every now and then, motivated by the big occasion or a whiff of blood, they will give it everything and make it count.

These evidently contrasting behaviours are just two faces of the same coin. Pakistani cricketers abhor nothing more than wasted endeavour. They do not invest their effort lightly, but on the sporadic occasion when they do, they are more determined than anyone to see that their labour amounts to something.

Pakistan’s nail-biting (quite literally, as camera shots of the Australian dug-out confirmed) defeat in the 2010 World Twenty20 semi-final to Australia is therefore new territory for Pakistan and its supporters. The team fought all the way with everything it had, grabbing the initiative right away and dominating the game completely – until the final over, when it came up short. As an old Indian friend, referring to the Australasia Cup final from 1986, pointed out to me by text message afterwards: now we know what Indians felt like after Sharjah.

Entry into the semi-finals was regarded as something of a miracle for Pakistan, who had managed only one good victory from five tournament games. The rematch with Australia was anticipated with apprehension, trepidation and resignation. Not only had Australia made short of work of Pakistan in the group match, they had also mowed through everything else in their path with merciless efficiency. Complicating the picture were haunting memories of previous torment – a disastrous Australian summer most recently, but other embarrassments too, going back to the World Cup final in 1999.

As always, there are decisions to rue, and events that perhaps could have turned out differently in hindsight. The way Saeed Ajmal was taken apart in the final over by Michael Hussey, that responsibility might have been better entrusted to Mohammad Aamer. Had Umar Akmal thrown his bat with greater abandon in the final over, perhaps Australia’s target might have gone past 200. These and related thoughts naturally keep coming to mind, but they are not associated with value judgments. You can’t find fault with an offspinner who strained every sinew, with a batsman who cut like Sachin Tendulkar and pulled like Viv Richards, with a team that played its heart out.

Of course, Australia were awesome. It is galling that they made good on their arrogance and boastfulness, but they did so fair and square. Hats off to them. Once Pakistani teams have crossed their cornered-tigers threshold, they never give up. They did not give up this time either. They just went down fighting. And when you go die fighting, you die with honour intact.

Moments like these create a parallax view, which can make you realize that perhaps life after all is not so bleak. As many observers have noted, Pakistan is the only country to have made the semi-final of every ICC tournament since the 2007 World Cup. This vaguely sounds like consistency – although Pakistani players and supporters alike will be loath to admit it. In Test cricket, Pakistan went without playing in 2008 but since then have won a Test in Wellington and all but won a Test in Sydney. Sure, the nation is in turmoil and the PCB is corrupt and misguided, but it was ever thus. The ground reality is that there have been no suicide bombings for a while now, and if peace returns, then international cricket at home cannot be far behind.

As the team heads back, it can be assured of a reception full of admiration, affection and warmth. Pakistani fans are notoriously unforgiving of their team in defeat, but losses such as these have the power to educate the public into taking defeats in stride. Pakistan could not defend their title but they were able to give history’s best team the memory of a lifetime. As consolation prizes go, this one’s not too bad.

	When you come up against the sort of brilliance that Michael Hussey showed, there’s probably no shame in losing © AFP

Little did I realise, when I wrote my most recent piece a fortnight ago, that those words would ring true the very next time Pakistan played Australia. Last night’s amazing finish to the T20 semi-final just underscored that point. In the space of a few hours, Pakistan managed to turn severe underdog status (if you believed the bookmakers at the start of the game) into a savage assault on the hitherto unchallenged Australian bowling/fielding machine and then somehow managed to transform a comfortable victory into a nailbiting, spellbinding loss. In that recent article I said "You never quite know what to expect with Pakistan but you expect to be entertained, frustrated or bewitched at every twist and turn of the game.”

To be fair, on this occasion, one can hardly level much blame at the feet of Pakistan. Other than for their slight inability to bowl at the feet of Michael Hussey at the death, this was more a celebration of Australia’s greatness than any indictment of Pakistan. When you come up against the sort of brilliance that Hussey showed, there’s probably no shame in losing, although that’s probably little consolation to Pakistan’s massive fan base. I must admit though that reading some of the comments on the match bulletin, even the Pakistani fans seem to be philosophical and gracious about this freak result. It’s almost as if everyone who understands and loves cricket, can appreciate the enormity of what Australia achieved, under huge pressure, even if their bitter disappointment still hurts like a knife in the guts (if you’re a Pakistan supporter).

Can this really be the same two teams who played out a five wicket maiden on the same ground, with roughly the same batsmen at the crease, just two weeks ago? Last time around, Australia lost 6/12 in the last three overs. Last night, Australia scored 53 runs in those same three overs, losing just one wicket and with a ball to spare. I tried going back to sleep at 5 am after the conclusion of the game but it was a futile exercise. The adrenalin rush was just too much to allow a peaceful slumber. I kept marvelling at not just Australia’s phenomenal skill level but their amazing, unwavering, almost delusional self-belief. Brad Haddin was interviewed on the sidelines when the game was slipping away from Australia and he made a typically foolhardy statement along the lines of just waiting for the last four overs and then having a dash. Listening to that, with the rate at 15 rpo, I couldn’t help but think that he sounded like a sad politician, refusing to concede defeat until the last vote had been counted. But that’s the thing about Australia’s cricket culture – even at lower club levels, you very rarely hear anyone conceding defeat until the Fat Lady has sung every last note. It's an incredible part of the national psyche.

For Pakistan, the tournament has mirrored everything I said in my last article. They were pretty shabby against England and New Zealand, cornered tigers against South Africa, brilliant for most of last night and .....and....well, I can’t really describe the finish without doing sufficient justice to Hussey’s brilliance or doing an injustice to Pakistan. It was a game that did not deserve a loser.

I’ve watched just about every game of this tournament and a few things struck me. Firstly, I think the inability of bowlers to execute yorkers has never been poorer. Even allowing for some innovation by the batsmen, the amount of low full tosses dished up have been amazing for professional cricketers who presumably practice this skill every day of their lives. Too many of the death overs have seen full tosses deposited into the grandstand. It’s hard to believe that the various bowling coaches can claim any job satisfaction from these sort of outputs.

The other amazing thing is the self-belief of batsmen now. Aided by superior cricket bats, they simply hit sixes at will. Most of the 270 sixes have not just cleared the rope but have landed way back in the crowd. Guyana and St Lucia are relatively big grounds and even the sixes at Barbados cleared the rope with plenty to spare. This tournament, surprisingly, saw nowhere near the number of “scoop” shots that we saw in England last year. I suppose if Tillakaratne Dilshan and Brendon McCullum had made more runs, we might have seen more of them but on pitches that probably allowed for more of this type of innovation, I was surprised by the orthodoxy of the slogging, most of it down the ground or in slog corner.

Finally, I can’t readily think of any run-outs that saw both batsmen stranded at one end after a complete misunderstanding. Michael Lumb and Craig Kieswetter had a moment in the semi-final but Ajantha Mendis’ hard hands reprieved them, Misbah ul-Haq sacrificed himself in the last ball of Pakistan’s innings today and Shahid Afridi was a few metres short against England but none of the real game-changing mix-ups that you’d expect to see in 26 T20 games.

In fairness to all teams, this World Cup probably got what it deserved – the two best teams of this tournament, pitted against each other. They’re pretty evenly matched in all departments, England slightly stronger in spin bowling options, Australia shading it with genuine pace and athletic fielders with strong arms on both teams. In some senses, it will be a relatively fair contest in that the conditions are unlikely to massively favour one team over another, unlike the case if say India/Sri Lanka/Pakistan was playing Australia/England/South Africa where a bouncy or spin-friendly pitch might skew the odds one way or the other.

I wonder if the fact that England hasn’t really been pushed to the brink in this tournament will count against them if it gets tight? Or have Australia used up all their emotional energy last night? It’ll probably come down to a bit of luck and a bit of self-belief when it matters most. And if it comes down to that, with no disrespect to England’s impressive form, how can you back against Australia? I'm looking forward to one last midnight tryst. My six-year old son described me perfectly last week for his school assignment – asked to use the word ‘nocturnal’ in a wildlife talk, he preferred instead to say “when the cricket’s on from the West Indies, my dad becomes nocturnal”. Sad but true!

	England are not just winning matches, they are playing highly attractive, watchable cricket © Getty Images

It is a week of wonders. Following an inconclusive general election, Britain now has her first-ever Conservative-Liberal coalition government while in the Caribbean, the England cricket team have cantered through to the semi-finals of an ICC limited-over tournament and give every appearance of being genuine contenders. Anyone who bet on either event happening a month ago can probably afford an IPL franchise now.

This is not the place to be discussing British politics, however fascinating, but it is a very strange feeling indeed to be an England fan who can seriously entertain thoughts of his cricket team winning a men's World Twenty20. Australia have appeared so powerful that it's hard to see past them as eventual winners, but England look at least as well-equipped to topple them as either of the Asian teams left in the semis, and we know anything can happen in Twenty20.

The natural pessimism of the England fan forces one to pick holes, but it is surprisingly difficult to find the opening. Paul Collingwood's form with the bat seems to have gone west, but his captaincy is now at least competent, a major advance from when he was ODI captain against New Zealand a couple of years ago and obviously had no clue about how many overs his bowlers had, let alone when to put them on or what field to set. The only real under-performer has been Stuart Broad, who seems to be shedding braincells at an alarming rate. So well is the team functioning, in fact, that it is even possible that the next Twenty20 international England play after the World Twenty20 will not see a new opening partnership.

And glory be, they have been playing highly attractive, watchable cricket. In the last 15 years, England have occasionally made a decent showing in a limited-over tournament in terms of winning some games, but you wouldn't have recommended their games to neutrals as enjoyable exhibitions. In this tourney, however, we have seen both Pietersen and Morgan play innings of considerable style, power and invention and the likes of Lumb, Kieswetter and Wright clouting the ball to all parts. (Well, in Wright's case it's not to all parts because he only has the one shot to cow corner, but you know what I mean.) The bowling has been varied, intelligent and adaptable and the catching quite often spectacular. Nothing has showed the vast improvement in the team as a whole to better advantage than Ryan Sidebottom, something of a fielding donkey, and butter-fingered Kevin Pietersen both taking spectacular running catches in the deep.

Whatever happens in today's semi-final against the Lankans, England can go home feeling they've earned some respect and done themselves somewhere near justice. Of course, if they win today and then go on and win the Final they will have done themselves more than justice and earned as much respect as others are prepared to give them (which, it being England, won't be a great deal), but it's probably worth saying that to have got even this far is a huge step forward for England's perennial disappointers.

I'll now put the mockers on their chances by wishing them good luck, but even so they've had a good run.

"The anchor role has fallen to Umar Akmal by default" © Getty Images

Batting continues to be Pakistan's weakest department. Even in the match against South Africa that Pakistan won, the batting was off to a nightmarish start, at one point being 18 for 3 after five overs. In the match against New Zealand that Pakistan lost on the final ball, its bowlers had restricted the opposition to a modest 133, but the batsmen made heavy weather of the chase; the one exception was Salman Butt, who carried his bat, but even he failed to close the deal.

In the absence of middle-order stalwarts like Younis Khan and Mohammad Yousuf, and with repeated disappointments from Misbah-ul-Haq, the anchor role has fallen to Umar Akmal by default. Further, in the absence of Shoaib Malik and with Shahid Afridi not firing, the role of the batting allrounder has to be assumed by Abdul Razzaq. Kamran Akmal is an important presence up the order but being a wicketkeeper-batsman, he cannot be considered the mainstay. And while Butt is in excellent nick, he alone is not enough, as was painfully manifested in the match against New Zealand.

Meanwhile other batting options, such as Khalid Latif or Fawad Alam, have been hopeless. Uncapped Hammad Azam, who was instrumental in taking Pakistan to the final of the Under 19 World Cup this January, is also available as a batting allrounder but is obviously too much of a risk in a crucial tie.

If you look at the top 10 run scorers for Pakistan in Twenty20 cricket, most of them have a more or less similar batting average regardless of whether Pakistan wins or loses. Two names, however, stand out as exceptions: Umar Akmal and Razzaq.

Umar's overall Twenty20 average of 28.66 jumps up to 44.00 in matches won, while for Razzaq the increment is even higher, as his overall average of 33.57 shoots up to 81.50 in matches where his team is victorious.

The differences between overall average and average in matches won are highest for Razzaq (47.93) and Umar (15.34), and are in contrast to corresponding figures for the other batsmen in the top-ten list (in descending order of career Twenty20 runs): Shoaib Malik (4.25), Kamran Akmal (5.96), Misbahul Haq (7.79), Shahid Afridi (5.39), Salman Butt (-2.67), Younis Khan (0.34), Imran Nazir (7.63), and Mohammad Hafeez (2.62).

Razzaq's average of 81.50 in matches won seems an anomaly, but is explained by a large proportion of not-outs. On the 10 occasions that Razzaq has batted in a Twenty20 match won by Pakistan, he has remained not out 8 times. In comparison, he has never returned not-out in a match that Pakistan lost.

These figures suggest that Pakistan's chances of victory in the semi-final contest against Australia will increase significantly if Umar and Razzaq can get among the runs. Moreover, if Razzaq can manage to remain not-out, then based at least on this prediction model, victory for Pakistan will almost be assured.

Granted, one can only go so far with facts and figures. After all, Australia's professionalism is so ruthless, that they could well bulldoze Pakistan despite Umar and Razzaq doing well. Conversely, strong performances from any of the other Pakistani batsmen will lift the team even if Umar and Razzaq fail. Nevertheless, these statistics do point to a pivotal status for Umar and Abdul Razzaq in what is really a threadbare Pakistan batting cupboard with slim pickings.

The good news for Pakistan is that when Umar and Razzaq click, it creates a winning impact. If these two can manage a decent outing at the crease on Friday, the odds will tilt substantially in Pakistan's favour.

"It is clear that the captaincy is wearing heavy on Shahid Afridi" © Getty Images

It would appear after Pakistan’s loss in their initial Super Eights outing, that the team’s Twenty20 prowess has gone to its head. Pakistan are now taking their strategy to unprecedented, daredevil heights by trying to win matches without taking catches, without saving boundaries, and without executing run-outs. The wisdom of these tactics is not readily obvious but coming from Pakistan – a country and a team quite at home with enigmas – that is not such a surprise.

In the loss to England we also saw the now-familiar move where a Pakistani batsman of whom much is expected walks in at a critical juncture and commits suicide. The chosen method is exquisitely torturous: the batsman plays the ball straight into the hands of a close-in fielder and immediately sets off for a run. Over the years, we have seen the likes of Mohammad Yousuf, Younis Khan and Inzamam-ul-Haq engage in such hara kiri rather liberally. At Bridgetown yesterday, it was Shahid Afridi’s turn. To make it interesting, he decided to pull it off on the very first ball he faced. After he died his virtual cricket death, there was the customary agitated gesturing and scowling. Again, the logic of this tactic is not clear, but that’s Pakistan for you.

Then there is the time-honoured routine of the nonsensical reverse-sweep. It happens to be one of Pakistan’s great gifts to the game, along with reverse-swing and the doosra, so its origins are honourable enough. Mushtaq Mohammad invented it and Javed Miandad perfected it. But down the generations it seems to have become a source of slapstick entertainment. In Misbah-ul-Haq’s hands yesterday, it served as a powerful instrument of comic relief. Granted that the reverse-sweep is necessarily a premeditated stroke, but most exponents wait at least for the bowler to be locked into his delivery motion before they start to swivel. Misbah took it one step further yesterday by turning his body around before the bowler had barely started his run. The stumps were badly exposed and that was that. We are scratching our heads to understand how this move helped Pakistan, but that’s our team – they love to keep us guessing.

Unsuspecting Pakistan fans are still thinking that all these tricks are part of some Grand Plan. Having experienced the thrilling triumphs of World Cup 1992 and World Twenty20 2009, they are convinced that Pakistan’s lack of form isn’t worrisome. Good ol’ Pakistan, they always throw caution to the wind and rack up losses in the initial stage of a tournament, only to floor the pedal at the right time and speed through to the title.

Except this time it’s different. The rhythm is completely off. The body language is stilted. The facial expressions are tragic. One look at the dugout and the sombreness infects and envelops you, even sitting out here in Lahore or Karachi, thousands of miles away.

Most of all, Afridi is walking around cutting a sad, almost shattered figure. It is clear that the captaincy is wearing heavy on him. Throughout his career he has been a proud, free-spirited Mustang. His veins carry the blood of a warrior tribe and his approach has always been fearless and unforgiving. All of this works well in the sphere of individualism, but when you get burdened with systematic responsibilities they become a liability. We still love you, Afridi, but you’re no Younis. Your leadership experiment has failed.

Theoretically, Pakistan are still in the hunt, but only barely. To begin with, they must win both their remaining matches (against New Zealand and South Africa; neither exactly a pushover). Even so, of the four possible scenarios that could then emerge in Group E, three will involve run-rate calculations. Only if England also wins both its games, will Pakistan be assured of a semifinal spot, as England and Pakistan then edge out New Zealand and South Africa . If Pakistan lose one more match, then for all purposes they are knocked out.

Very soon everyone will start looking around for someone to blame. Hopefully, most, if not all eyes will settle on the PCB and its leadership, specifically chairman Ijaz Butt. Pakistan is a chaotic place to begin with, and Butt compounded the misery by meting out whimsical bans and punishments to key players in the days leading up to this tournament. It is hard to imagine a more damaging send-off for a team aiming to defend its title.

"You never quite know what to expect with Pakistan but you expect to be entertained, frustrated or bewitched at every twist and turn of the game" © Associated Press

Cricket has this wonderful way of throwing up extraordinary events that sometimes teaches us to simply accept the beautiful unpredictability of sport without reading any sinister intentions into it. Struggling to stay awake at about 5 am this morning (Australia time), I was enthralled by a five-wicket maiden over at the end of Australia’s innings in the Twenty20 World Cup match in St Lucia. That an amazing finish to an innings that was rocketing along at breakneck speed just a few overs earlier when David Hussey collared Mohammad Sami.

When was the last time a team that lost 5 wickets for no runs in an over comfortably won a cricket match? That says a lot about how good this Australian team is. It also served as a sobering reminder that when such extraordinary events happen, we should sometimes dispense with our cynicism and appreciate the theatre and drama of sport for what it is. Watching that last over, there was no doubt in my mind that this was a bizarre but brilliant passage of play by Pakistan and an equally poor performance by Australia. Nothing more, nothing less. Just one of those things that can happen sometimes.

Very little else about Australia’s play was poor and Pakistan had little else to celebrate but for this single over. If the situation had been reversed, I wonder if there would have been the usual murmurings and suspicions about how Pakistan could possibly have lost five wickets for no runs in six balls. And that would have been most terribly unfair on Pakistan because as we’ve just seen, amazing things can happen sometimes without having to question the integrity of such events.

Like in Sydney a few months ago, Australia fought back brilliantly and Pakistan stumbled at the last hurdle to complete a memorable game of cricket. It was compelling cricket and Pakistan played their part in one of the most enjoyable Test matches in recent memory, only to have to defend themselves against some scurrilous suggestions that something was rotten in the camp. And sadly for Pakistan, they seem to unfairly have to put up with frequent innuendo of this nature, even when there is little evidence to point to anything but brilliant, poor, inspired, imaginative, freakish moments in a cricket match. It’s the beauty of the way they play cricket, richly talented, often unpredictable, capable of the brilliant and bizarre in the space of a few minutes. That’s one of the reasons I’ve always loved watching Pakistan play – you never quite know what to expect but you expect to be entertained, frustrated or bewitched at every twist and turn of the game. Sure, there have been some integrity issues with Pakistani cricket that have been well documented but we sometimes forget that just about every country has been implicated in the murky world of match-fixing and betting scandals.

Pakistan seem to be forever defending themselves against such accusations but that a roller-coaster ride is the very reason why they are such a watchable side. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve watched Pakistan chase a total and fall hopelessly behind the run rate, only to see the most amazing acceleration that defied the 40 overs that preceded it. Even this morning, despite feeling desperately sleepy and seeing Australia comfortably on top, I could not bring myself to switch off the TV in case Afridi, Misbah or Razzaq just exploded and pulled off a miracle. I only truly relaxed when Misbah was dismissed, despite the scoreboard willing me to call it quits and take an Aussie victory for granted.

There are not too many other sides in world cricket that make me that nervous, even when Australia are seemingly cruising towards victory. Perhaps South Africa with Boucher and Morkel still at the crease but theirs is a more clinical assault rather than the sheer unpredictability of a Pakistani cyclone. It’s Boom-boom or Bust! Whatever the criticisms of modern cricket, one cannot argue that it lacks for entertainment, sheer skill and firepower. I love watching Australia bat for that reason. I love watching Australia in the field for that reason. Even on their bad days, even when the eyelids are heavy from watching two consecutive games of cricket in the middle of the night and a warm bed is calling, when Pakistan are chasing down an impossible target, it’s easy to see why Bon Jovi said “I’ll sleep when I’m dead”.