From Tim Wigmore, United Kingdom

Will South Africa miss "the next Klusener's" hitting down the order? © Getty Images

Hershelle Gibbs
His autobiography may have been a gripping read, but its vivid depiction of the cliques in the South African dressing room helped end his international career. Which is a great shame, because, even at 36, Gibbs’s panache and audacity at the crease, best illustrated in his 111-ball 175 against Australia, have the capacity to thrill – as does his fielding.

Marcus Trescothick
For a man often described as ‘stand and deliver’ in his style, Trescothick is remarkably nimble on his feet. Of all the examples of his clean striking in the opening overs of ODI innings, perhaps the best was against Glenn McGrath in the Champions Trophy in 2004: Trescothick, happy to charge virtually any quick, drove McGrath for four consecutive boundaries. If he made himself available, there is no doubt Trescothick would have been opening for England: Andrew Strauss’s forays down the wicket look almost apologetic in comparison.

VVS Laxman
Too orthodox for ODIs? Perhaps, but tell Australia, against who he’s scored four centuries at an average of 46. If Hashim Amla can become the top-ranked one-day batsman in the world, it seems strange that there is no place for Laxman in India’s side. His classical style looks incongruous in Twenty20, certainly, but a man with his range of shots and ability to accelerate could be invaluable in ODIs.

Brad Hodge
Despite seven centuries in his past 20 Australian domestic one-day games and a limited-overs know-how few batsmen can match, there’s no place for Hodge at the World Cup. Labelled the “hard-luck story of the century” by Matthew Hayden, it’s pretty hard to argue – rumours that he never fitted into the Australian dressing room are one potential explanation.

Owais Shah
Overly intense and a shoddy fielder he may be, but Shah has a six-hitting ability England appear to lack in their middle-order. That much was epitomised by an 89-ball 98, with six maximums, against South Africa in the 2009 Champions Trophy. And his ease against spin helped him average 59 in England’s last one-day series in India. In the absence of Eoin Morgan, could Shah have been England’s finisher?

Zulqarnain Haider
Remembered for fleeing mid-series against South Africa last year, promising to blow the whistle on match-fixers, Haider retired from cricket aged just 24. Those who saw his superbly gritty 88 on Test debut last summer will know he should be in South Asia now, rather than England.

Albie Morkel
The ‘next Klusener’ will not be appearing in the World Cup. For a fifth bowler, he was always too liable to be expensive with the ball. Nevertheless, South Africa may long for him when chasing eight-an-over: Morkel can exploit the batting Powerplay like few others, most notably when looting Australia for 40* (off 18) and 40 (off 22) in two match-winning innings down under in 2009.

Mohammad Nabi
Afghanistan’s skipper will rue the change in the format from 2007: if 16 teams were permitted as they were then, he would be appearing in the World Cup. An off-spinning allrounder who also has a first-class hundred to his name, Nabi is a useful cricketer who, with 13 wickets at 10 in the World Twenty20 qualifiers last year, did more than anyone to secure Afghanistan’s place in that tournament.

Mohammad Amir
Yes, yes, we know why he won’t be playing, and that is right. But there’s no denying the sight of Amir’s mastery of the left-arm craft would have added to the tournament. Facing him under lights is not a prospect any opener would relish.

Simon Jones
The notion of a fit Jones may seem ridiculous, but his performances in the Caribbean Twenty20 competition, including claiming 4-10 in four overs, served as a reminder of his reverse swing mastery of ’05, as well as his oft-ignored subtleties. Still capable of touching 90mph, could he yet play for England again, if used in a manner akin to Australia with Shaun Tait?

Shane Bond
A slight cheat of a selection in that he’s retired, but what a shame it is. His last series – nine wickets at 21 against Australia last year – suggested Bond still possessed a genuine threat at international level. With express pace and canny use of bouncers, yorkers, cutters and slower balls alike Bond, even at 35, would have provided New Zealand’s attack with the cutting edge they are conspicuously lacking.

From Tim Wigmore, United Kingdom

	Amateurs no more: 13 of Ireland's players are professionals now © Associated Press

In 2007, Ireland’s success was one of the few things to enliven a World Cup that seldom rose above the mind-numbingly tedious. In beating Pakistan they provided a sporting fairytale the like of which one associates with the FA Cup: unfancied amateurs embarrassing the pros. The story was made all the greater for being on St Patrick’s Day.

The class of ’07 was essentially unknown. Only one – keeper Niall O’Brien – was remotely established for a county, though a kid called Eoin Morgan was said to have potential. Now as many as 13 of the 15-man squad are professional cricketers, of whom seven have county contracts.

While Ireland were enjoying such success four years ago, the man who did most to get them there was playing against them. Ed Joyce was a star for his county and Ireland alike – so good that he was pinched by England, lured by the prospect of Test cricket. Alas, it never came; and despite making a brilliant century for England in an ODI in Australia, Joyce failed to establish himself in their limited-overs side either. After four years unwanted by England, he has been allowed to return to the Irish side. His class, experience and solidity at No. 3 – he is a man with a first-class average of 45 – is vital for Ireland, and also helps compensate for the loss of the best Irish player today.

Just as Joyce was lured across the Irish Sea, so too has Morgan. It is hard to overstate the difference to Ireland if Morgan was still playing for them; indeed, look at the grief his absence is currently causing England. The injustice of the situation has been oft remarked upon, and, while Ireland are denied Test cricket, their best players will invariably be sought after by England. Justice of sorts comes through Morgan’s injury, which at least spares Ireland from being beaten by the bat of their own player.

Four years ago, much of Ireland’s strength stemmed from ‘imports’ – men who learned their cricket elsewhere, in Australia or South Africa, but, unable to make the grade there, exploited their Irish connections instead. While this remains to a degree true today – though no more than it is of England – Ireland have a growing commitment to developing players within their own shores. Indeed, Joyce is adamant there is a far greater commitment to the sport now than when he played before his England days, saying, "The governments both north and south of the border have started to free up money to Cricket Ireland which is good because you can't do much without the money." And the return on this investment is a number of exciting young talents – all of whom have county contracts.

In addition to William Porterfield, the unobtrusively impressive captain, there is his opening partner Paul Stirling, a burly big-hitter of the ‘old school’. Together, they added 80 in 11 overs against Australia last summer, a game Ireland came close to winning, and their left-right partnership is a real strength. Then there is Boyd Rankin, one of the stars of 2007, when he took 12 wickets in nine games. With the pace and bounce generated from a 6ft 8in frame, there have already been rumours of the England vultures circling. And perhaps most exciting is George Dockrell. When aged only 17, the left-arm spinner claimed 3-16 against the West Indies in the World Twenty20 last year, and soon had experts praising the purity of his action, his parsimony, and his pugnacity. On sub-continental wickets, expectations on him will be high.

When they last went to the World Cup, the talk was of Ireland learning from their experiences. But now Porterfield speaks buoyantly of their “great chance” of reaching the quarterfinals, which means winning at least three of their six games in a convoluted group stage. If they did so, they would also embarrass the ICC, who outrageously agreed to limit the 2015 tournament to just 10 teams, thereby shutting the ‘minnows’ out. Ireland may well expose, once again, how undeserving they are of that description.

From Neeraj Narayanan, India

The 90s were something else © Associated Press

I do not know why I don’t like the IPL. Maybe it is the sheer obscene display of money, maybe it is the cheerleaders. Maybe I like to believe that even in 2011, cricket does not come under the purview of entertainment, instead it still should be treated like a gentleman’s game. Just like how I feel sad seeing empty parks and blame it on Facebook. Maybe I am just not ready to accept change.

And so, when Set Max’s live telecast of the player auction began, I switched off the box and sat down beside my bookshelf, cross-legged and, might I add, adorable. At the end of my endeavours, a rather disheveled scrap book found its way into my callused palms. A shoddily cut picture of Tendulkar, with a few yellow dal stains on his cheek formed the cover of the dog eared book titled, ‘Nero - the summer of ‘96’.

Nineteen-ninety six was indeed a memorable year. It was the year I evolved into a teenager, and the year I first fell in love. Seated two rows across, I would look at her and wonder if even the Taj Mahal could be so pretty, and if it was necessary that we hug or kiss (blech!) when we got married. It was also the year my voice broke and I croaked like a frog and why we never eventually got married. It was the year when Sourav Ganguly and Rahul Dravid first played for India.

The 90s was the decade when cable television tiptoed stealthily into Indian households. The sudden plethora of channels amazed us, and we were shocked to know that news channels were allowed to hire pretty women, a fact that Doordarshan, our national channel, always hid from us. When electricity failed on us, which it did with clockwork regularity, we would run to the neighbourhood paan shop. You see we did not have Cricinfo then. Once there, we would stand hunched along with fifteen others, with perky ears, submerging as one big family into agony or ecstasy with the lows and the highs of the team’s fortunes.

Back then, none of the Indian players had fancy hair styles. All of Azhar’s ‘boys’ as he repeatedly called them at every match conference, were absolute mama’s boys – be it Sachin, Rahul, Kumble or Srinath. It almost seemed like flamboyance was not allowed to be part of that Indian team character. There was no dude at all in the team, no Kohli, no Yuvraj. No one sledged, no one stared, it appeared as if they were standing in a temple, instead of a ground. Even Sourav was a quiet little fellow till he became captain in 2000. Unlike 2010, when we have been tagged No.1 in Test cricket, we were archaic in those days, even medieval, in our play. Our batting rose and fell with Sachin, our fast bowlers ticked rasam and sambar as their favourite daily diet, and our best fielder was a 35-year old man called Robin Singh. It was inexplicable - the team totally refused to dive on the ground, and Anil and Sri became models for a Moov ad every time they had to bend their knees to stop a ball. I would scream at them and call them ‘women’ and my sister would glare at me malevolently.

In that entire decade, we never won a Test outside the subcontinent. But isn’t that why we became obsessed with the team. There is a feeling that comes with being part of an underdog, that impassioned aggressive desire to punch and knock out a better opponent, that one can never understand being part of a champion side. It is heady, it is intoxicating. Ask Hayden or Gilchrist if they feel as bad about a loss as a young Bangladesh side would feel about a win. Watch how players react when they beat Roger Federer and you will have an idea. It is only because David beat Goliath, did the story become romantic. And it was the same with India. With our team, we felt crushed a million times, and ecstatic a few other times, but with that grew our loyalty and misplaced patriotism. It was also why we made Sachin into a demi-god.

But now, everything has changed. Twenty20, IPL , businessmen, cheerleaders, Mandira Bedis have now become an integral part of modern day cricket lexicon. The Indian team is at its best. Today, Afghanistan have done all but enter the cricket fold, Zimbabwe are all but extinct. England are thrashing Australia in the Ashes, in ways they were themselves slapped around for over a century. There is no Wasim and no Waqar, thank heavens for Steyn. Everything has changed, except maybe Sachin Tendulkar. As always, he remains our hero across all ages, across all time, across all hairstyles. Our one constant.

P.S - That scrap book, it had its first page dedicated to a code of conduct. As captain, my first rule did not allow any members of the Sector 55 Noida team to use any expletives while playing. I guess, once upon a time, I was a relatively better person. As I flipped through the pages, an assorted mix of match scores and statistics appeared scribbled in pencil, that most innocent of communication facilitators. My laptop lay across the room, proud and superior.

From Andrew Sanderson, Australia

An equal distribution of games should be the way to go © Getty Images

With talk of a Test World Cup, similar to the ODI and Twenty20 World Cups, maybe it is time to have a closer look at the Future Tours Programme (FTP) and how many games that Test teams are playing.

As it stands, there seem to be no uniform tours - each tour relies on the teams involved deciding how many Tests, ODIs and T20s that they will play. If the ICC were to set a uniform tour format, with an equal number of tours for each team, perhaps the ICC Rankings would have more meaning for all involved.

My proposal is simple - we set the number of games for each tour at three Tests, three ODIs and three T20s. The total days in playing time in this format is 21 days. If we allow five days rest between each Test and one day between each of the shorter games, this allows for 14 days rest, bringing the total days to 35. Allow an additional five days between the Test and ODIs, and a day between the ODIs and the T20s, and our tour total reaches 41 days. Finally, give the sides 10 days grace on each side of the entire tour, and the magic number becomes 61 days - about two months.

This format allows the players to have plenty of time before and after each tour (20 days), and allows teams to have six tours per year. Ideally this would be three home and three away tours. Given there are 10 Test teams (assuming that Zimbabwe are taken back into the fold), they would face each other once every 18 months, and in a three-year span would play one home and one away series against each Test nation. Of course, room needs to be made for major tournaments (the World Cups), but as a simple, starting suggestion, there seems no reason why this proposal would not work. If more Test teams enter the ranks, obviously the teams will face off against each other less frequently, but the distribution of games should still be equal.