From Fergus Peace, Australia

The baton has passed in the stands as well © Getty Images

“Aussie! Aussie! Aussie!” Ben Hilfenhaus’ final nick behind was ten minutes in the past and the MCG was emptying rapidly. One spectator, wandering down the ramp towards the exit, let loose that most archetypal, uninventive Australian chant, a gesture of defiance to make up for his team’s submission. On the best days, the cry is met with instant, triumphant response. Here, seconds passed and the words subsided before another fan took up the cause and returned an equally solitary “Oi! Oi! Oi!” And his hopeful words too subsided, but not into silence, for there was no silence within a mile of the hallowed turf.

That was ensured by the Barmy Army, whose chants were not gestures of defiance but raucous expressions of triumph, the kind the Australian chant once signified. The baton has been passed, not only on the field but in the stands. It is unlikely to change any time soon. England’s crop of players hardly know what it is to lose to Australia: none have lost the Ashes more than once, five never at all. When they have lost – Headingley in 2009, Perth this year – it has been because England played atrociously and Australia lifted their game.

There is only one dominant team, and it can be seen in the way they carry themselves. Graeme Swann, even when he has been mandated to bowl flat and fast and hold up an end, always walks with a strut and a glimmer in his eye; it is coming. Tim Bresnan, regarded by most Australians as little more than an honest toiler, turns at his mark not in fear of being crashed to the cover boundary, as did Sajid Mahmood, James Anderson and even Matthew Hoggard last tour, but eagerly anticipating the next step in his plan. Chris Tremlett, delivering a series of gems and beating the edge with regularity that can easily frustrate a bowler, smiles and in spite of his professed gentleness enjoys, or at least appreciates, the torment he is giving. Matt Prior thinks everything is out. These are signs of a team used to beating Australia and not looking to the heavens for thanks.

Meanwhile, Mitchell Johnson seems to hope for a wicket rather than expecting one, and not without reason. Steven Smith bowled a good ball during the final session of day two in Melbourne, pitching on middle and leg, turning and bouncing and drawing a cautious defensive prod. What was needed was another twenty such deliveries to induce a mistake; what came was a half-tracker, pummeled to the midwicket boundary. But this crunching boundary, unlike the forward-defensive, went in the air – comfortably wide of the fieldsman, but enough to encourage Smith to bowl similarly next delivery, with similar results. Hilfenhaus avoids this impetuousness but his patience is more resigned than plotting, having accepted that he is likely to bend at least ninety deliveries a day away from the right-hander to be comfortably left, no damage done.

Enough has been written about the failings of the Australian team and the strengths of the English one. In Perth in 2006, when Geraint Jones emerged on a pair, the Barmy Army – never deniers of reality – sang out Living on a Prayer. Late on day three in Melbourne, the scoreboard showing that six Australian wickets had already tumbled, the same song rang from the Army’s ranks, this time as an offering to their vanquished opponents. After so many years of pain, they are enjoying it. And Australia seems to have been almost as successful at forgetting its own greatness as England has been at forgetting the lows they sank too.

Two local members of the crowd, discussing the parlous state of the batting order, offered this: “Apart from Hussey, and maybe Watson, there’s nobody else in that line-up who can score runs.” “Exactly. Although somebody the other day was talking about Ponting, I think?” Walking down from the MCG in a throng of Australian fans, there is no more talk of the cricket, past or present. A boy attempts soccer tricks with a plastic bottle on the footpath. As they approach the train station, a young man asks his friends, “Where to next?” He is not discussing the cricket, but he could be. Where to, indeed. And in a moment of silence, from inside the ground the Barmy Army can still be heard.

From Brad Hinds, Australia

Almost the same age but their careers appear to be heading in different directions © Getty Images

In the space of little less than half a year, the two most senior Australian cricketers will have reached the mortal age of 36; Ricky Ponting already has, and Michael Hussey next May. It's an interesting time for these two batsman – both who have accumulated many accolades – especially as Australia traverse into a territory where they are no longer as dominant as they were several years ago; and where they must cement themselves once more with a core group of talented young players. The Ashes series may very well be the last hurrah for these two particular batsmen, and in light of that looming possibility, it has been interesting to witness the manner in which both Ponting and Hussey have individually gone about their performances out in the middle.

For Australia, much of its success is supposed to be attributed to the way in which the top order can establish a solid foundation by which the middle order can capitalise and the bowlers draw upon. Particularly, many eyes center towards a side’s captain, especially in a series as important as the Ashes, to help lead that attack with confidence and positivity. But for Ponting, he’s been able to achieve none of that so far in the first three Tests, where he has scored only 83 runs across six innings at an abysmal average of 16, boosted by a single half-century during the second innings at the Gabba. It's a stark contrast to the man who scored 568 runs in the 2006 Ashes series with a top score of 196 followed by a 142. It is also a very depressing outcome.

There is little doubt that Ponting’s decline has been in progress for several years now – incidentally mirroring Australia's own decline in the international rankings – but it is disconcerting to see Australia’s greatest run-scorer capitulate at home with as many accomplishments as he has earned. It is also rather surprising. Several months ago, during Australia's tour of India, Ponting was by far the team’s best batsman. He played in those two Test matches as well as he ever has throughout his distinguished career with three consecutive scores of over 70. But time is running out for Ponting. At the age of 36, the curtains are close to closing, especially if his persistently poor form perpetuates any further. With the Ashes at stake, he also faces being branded by a terrible legacy; the first Australian captain to lose an Ashes series at home in almost 30 years and, more harrowingly, to lose three Ashes series in over 120 years.

Despite what his numerous naysayers might say, Ponting is not deserving of such a tarnishing legacy. It’s hard to pinpoint where exactly he is going wrong in the area which he prizes above all else – a combination of rotten luck and an aging and weary mind bogged down by the pressures of captaining a declining side where talent is not consistently pulling through. It is interesting to note that for many batsmen who have carried the captaincy have found themselves in prolonged slumps that have raised question marks and uncertainties about their place in the side. Sachin Tendulkar is experiencing the best form of his life – at the age of 37. Perhaps it would be a wise decision on Ponting’s part to consider that move as well. As a specialist batsman at No. 3 or 4, he could very quickly turn his fortunes around with a much clearer mind and a more cheerful disposition.

With that in mind, he need look no further than Hussey, who has come from death’s door and experienced what can no less be described as a transformation. It is interesting to compare the two batsmen – where they have come from in the past 18 months – and to see their performances today. Four years ago, in the 2006 Ashes, the two of them were Australia’s top two run-scorers. Today, only one of them shows any signs of that destructive form. Whereas Ponting came from a relatively stable and positive position from India not too long ago, Hussey has suffered from a prolonged slump in form over the past 18 months that very recently resulted in his batting average dropping just below 50 for the first time in his career. Indeed, his place within the side was so tenuous that he was lucky to have made the squad for the starting Test in Brisbane. He went on to make 195 – the highest score of his career – in Australia’s first innings. It very much set the tone of the summer for him.

Though he may have scored in a single brilliant burst of batting prowess, talk still existed about whether or not he could transfer the good form through to subsequent innings. Indeed, Hussey made a futile 126 in the final Ashes Test last year at Lord’s but failed to carry on with it in future games. Fortunately, the same could not be said here. Since his heroic 195, he has hit scores of 93, 52, 61 and 116. He has become the first batsman in the history of the game to score six consecutive scores of over 50 in the Ashes. He has already made 517 runs at an average of 103.4 – the best series total of his career - with a maximum of four innings still available for him to play in. His performances over the past several weeks have been reminiscent of him at his very best in his early days, when his batting average of over 85 loomed as close to Bradman’s 99.94 as any mortal could hope to achieve.

But it’s extended beyond merely just his scores; he has pulled (quite literally) Australia out of dire trouble right when they needed him, and he has rallied the tail behind him in order to secure healthy scores that have at least been vaguely competitive. Indeed, his 116 at Perth secured Australia that Test and revitalised their hopes of taking back the Ashes. As a batsman, Hussey is neither overly stylish nor unorthodox. He is a subdued player who could spend days out in the middle batting his way along in a timely fashion without ever getting bored. Such is the incredible scope of his concentration and commitment. One cricketing fan described it thus: "His application to scoring runs as opposed to practicing a ballet-like style and hoping for the best is a reminder of what one hears about Bradman – the attunement of the action to the purpose."

Like Ponting, Hussey’s future will depend on the success of the Ashes. But while Ponting may retire if the Ashes is lost, Hussey may retire when the Ashes is won. Such has been the grandeur of his recent success – and the unparalleled comeback he has achieved – that will characterize his own legacy and engrain into the minds of all his supporters and fearful opponents just how eerily close he is to Bradman’s class. If Australia win the Ashes, it isn’t hard to foresee Hussey retiring with success in lieu of Shane Warne, Glenn McGrath and Adam Gilchrist at the peaks of their respective careers. Ponting’s career may be ending on a whimper, but Hussey’s is ending with an inspiring resurgence. It will be a long time before anyone will forget that 100 he made at the Gabba – his scream of satisfaction an act of defiance in the face of the overwhelming calls for his dumping from the team.

From James Adams-Pace, United Kingdom

Paul Collingwood has to step up © Getty Images

They were about three weeks late, but Australia have finally arrived. The bowling attack that was expected to expose England’s batting frailties has found rhythm and we now have a competition on our hands. This was the match-up that many had anticipated – let us hope it develops into the one the public desires.

The signs were there for England that all was not well: among the batsmen, Andrew Strauss had been making a few too many low scores, Jonathan Trott was getting put down a little too often and Paul Collingwood was not making as many runs as he should, while among the bowlers, Steven Finn was conceding a few too many runs and Graeme Swann was not having as big an impact as hoped. But this was fine as long as Alastair Cook and Kevin Pietersen were scoring double-centuries. That is until Ryan Harris and Mitchell Johnson found form.

Now England are in crisis, with changes to be made for the next Test. Suddenly, the team that could do no wrong is about to be broken up, the leading wicket-taker in the series singled out as one of the targets. As an Englishman, this may be wrong and perverse of me to say, but this is fantastic news. Of course, seeing England humiliate the Australians after years of embarrassment is delightful, but the cricket feels meaningless – there is no satisfaction in a certain victory.

Cricket should be about tight matches, evenly contested, with the result uncertain until the last ball on the fifth day. Watching a team rack up 600 and bowl the other team out for 200 twice is not true entertainment – it is vacuous. Indeed, I would go as far to say that the best news of the series is that Australia have finally got their act together – it will make for more compelling viewing all-round. It was thoroughly enjoyable watching England dominate Australia, but to finally have a contest – now, that is cricket.

From TS Trudgian, Canada

Brad Haddin - much improved over the past two years
© Getty Images

There is a gambling element to B.J. Haddin’s wicketkeeping. When Australia took on South Africa in Sydney 2009 he came up to the stumps while Andrew McDonald was bowling. McDonald is not an express bowler, but he is quick enough to make a wicketkeeper think twice. With the gloves Haddin is no Jack Blackham, nor is he Bertie Oldfield. The former stood up to even Fred ‘The Demon’ Spofforth, and took gave the quick man two stumpings; of the latter it is said that he exuded such grace and elegance that he would knock off just one bail when effecting stumpings off the quicks. But Haddin chose to approach the stumps and these were days before the Hannibal Lecter facemasks made popular by the World Twenty20 in 2009.

By standing up he kept the batsmen back in the crease, and since McDonald bowls such a straight line, the slightest seam movement could have him in with a stumping wrought from a lazy South African back foot. As it was, Boucher played a flamboyant cover drive, producing a thick outside edge which would have flown comfortably Haddin’s gloves ... if he had been standing back. Not the best advertisement for keeping up the stumps, sure, but at least Haddin was willing to put the burgeoning partnership under pressure, doing something. He almost affected a leg-side stumping several overs later — there is little better reward for a keeper.

Rod Marsh — who should know a thing or two about keeping — says that a keeper should be judged on the number of catches he holds, not of byes he concedes. What a relief: ‘Bad Hands’ had a torrid time keeping a clean sheet in the start of his career. (It would belie Anglo-Australian rivalry if I did not make mention that the record for the most byes conceded in a match is 52, held by Matt Prior.) Of course, Haddin is no Gilchrist, but we must move beyond that. His keeping has improved steadily since his permanency in the Australian side. Plenty of give off the inside hip, the patented Ian Healy flick of the heels in leaping for overhead balls, and the odd bit of inspired play make him the pick of the possible keepers during the Ashes.

He can bat too, although had he survived the second over at Lord’s back in 2009 — see Vol. II — then world-record run chases and my Dad’s pessimism could have been broken, and two-dozen schoolkids could have learned the lesson on which I was bred: Australia beat England at cricket — fact.

From TS Trudgian, Canada

Doug Bollinger - big, tall, fast and bustling
© AFP

I was huddled over some remarkably fine streaming coverage of Australia’s tour to New Zealand when I saw some vintage Bollinger. That, I promise, will be the first and last of any champagne moments throughout this article. Anyway, Bollinger took a wicket (I forget whose) and in a classic bout of enthusiasm lowered his head and raised his shirt to kiss the Australian logo on his breast. But it was not the green and gold emblem of Cricket Australia, but that of Victoria Bitter which felt the force of his osculatory might. The smile produced from taking the wicket became even wider after this mis-matching of logos — almost as wide as the VB executives who enjoyed the constant replays and free advertising.

But what a character: he does not have the latitudinal expanse of a Merv Hughes, but he is a big, tall, fast and bustling opening bowler. Perhaps Peter Siddle looks more intimidating than D.E. Bollinger (particularly when Siddle has the rather menacing zinc cream wrapped around his gnashing jaws). In any case, Bollinger is certainly an opening bowler’s opening bowler, none of these waving dandy-locks or Rexona advertisements shared by his English opening counterpart.

More often than not he bowls over the wicket, but due to his near-vertical release (as opposed to, say, Johnson’s slight round-arm) he can generate a surprisingly wide angle. It is this angle to the right-handers and his pace with the new ball that will ensure he has a dominant part to play in the Ashes (sure, England will have at least four left-handers in the team at any one time ... was it Keith Miller who said they shouldn’t be allowed to play the game? Ruining my analysis like that — the nerve).

I shall leave it to others to talk about his expertise with the mystical arts of reverse-swing. That is, after all, something which only enters the game after the first session, and so many Tests are decided in the first session’s play. The Doug does not have the prodigious conventional swing of The Hilf, but one can easily adapt Richie Benaud’s oft-heard epithet that the ‘ball need only spin half the width of the bat’ to see that sheer magnitude of swing is not the whole box-and-dice. Indeed, it is in the contrasts of Australia’s opening pair (for it is safe to assume that Bollinger and Hilfenhaus will share the new ball) that make for such a strong start to our bowling. If Stuart Broad could determine his role in the side (that is to say, decide, much like Mitchell Johnson, whether he is best suited at opening the innings or as the useful ‘stock’ bowler), then England might have such a formidable opening pair. Perhaps this is why Steve Finn has been given a run to see whether he can join Jimmy Anderson at the start of the day. Although since Chris Tremlett has been working on his swing (a right hook I think it was), Anderson might not be a dead-cert for the ’Gabba Test.

In any case, expect a huge cheer for Bollinger as he steams in, and an even larger one if, when batting, he manages to lay bat on ball.

From TS Trudgian, Canada

The new and improved Shane Watson
© AFP

My wife once asked me whether there was a need for batsmen to move their feet when playing a ‘stop’. A little questioning yielded that ‘stop’ meant ‘forward defensive stroke’. Is there a need? There most certainly is, said I. The conversation blossomed with mention of the insurance of adjacent bat and pad, the induced downward angle of the bat to deny any close fielders, and above all, the balance of having one’s head over the ball. Well, at least one side of the conversation blossomed. Seeking an example to prove my point, I pointed to the computer screen, which showed the Australian openers in the first morning of the Mohali Test. Balance, my dear ... , oh, well, that is Simon Katich, he is a little different. A propitious single brought Watto on strike. Now, watch his balance as he gets in behind this ball. To my chagrin Watson played ‘on the walk’, and not on a Matthew-Hayden-walk-down-and-front-foot-pull-the-bowler-for-four, thanks very much guv’nor. No, he played as if the ball was the last of the day’s play: no sooner had it struck his bat than his right foot emerged from its (rightful) side-on position and his sideways movement took him a few paces towards point. I let out a small shout of fury at being denied proof of my pontificating, while my wife smiled and resumed her knitting, thinking that I should best stick to my sines and cosines.

It was a curious observance, and, like all trifles, was one which I started to notice almost constantly during Watson’s innings. To pace and to spin alike, he would produce a lengthy stride, defend the ball, and almost topple over to his right to face the camera almost front on, French-cricket style. Forget aesthetics, a lean towards the right, or even a shifting in momentum to cause such a lean, leaves one open to a ball nipping back in, and UDRS or no, a Lawson, Blaxland and Wentworth special. How can he manage this? The simplest resolution is of course, he has an average of over fifty opening the batting for Australia: in my one and only game for the Oxford Blues I batted at No. 11 and was involved in a fifty-run stand of which my contribution amounted to zero runs from zero balls — thanks for playing.

There have been articles written about the personality of Watson being different from that of the ‘standard’ Australian batsman, whatever that may mean. To me, there is something ‘not quite right’ about his batting. But who cares? He is the perfect pugnacious Yang to Katich’s prudent Yin. He may have had trouble converting fifties to hundreds, but that is one of the lighter burdens one can be forced to bear. He is not a one-gear-wonder: his 93 and 120 against Pakistan in the last Boxing Day Test came at a comfortable, but not cavalier, clip.

That he has been spared a lot of bowling duties is one of the best moves for his career. Moreover, even when he does bowl these days, it is with noticeably less pace, and hence, less stress on the body. Australia finally gave up the request to shoe-horn Watson in as the next Keith Miller, and were content with his fulfilling a role as a (most useful) reserve seam-bowler. That he and Katich can change gears (with one virtually changing down while the other changes up) gives Australia a clear advantage in the opening to their innings. It would be foolhardy to predict anything less than one century opening stand, and one ton for the Watt himself.

From TS Trudgian, Canada

Expect Michael Hussey to deliver in the Ashes
© Getty Images

In terms of most recent Ashes form, M.E.K. Hussey is at the top of the batting pile: his 121 in the fifth Test at The Oval was the highest score in the final three matches of the 2009 series. It was an innings which kept alive the slim optimism of an Australian jail-break. Set an improbable (my Dad would of course say ‘impossible’ — see Vol I) 546 runs to win, Australia were 2 for 90 when Mike Hussey joined Ricky Ponting. This was early in day four of the Test, on a Sunday. On day three I had enjoyed the magnanimity of breaking the spirits of young fifteen-year-old bowlers by uncouthly belting them back over their heads — in other words, I was playing village cricket. All the pundits there, and village teams are full of sagacious musings over a post-game pint, agreed that if Australia batted out the rest of the Test, they would win. Easy game from the pub!

Once Ponting and Hussey put on a century stand without glimpse of being dismissed, I declared to my wife that it was all getting too exciting to stand around to try to help her with the Sunday roast. I had been dithering betwixt kitchen benches to sort out the rebellion of the roast veges and attend to the precious demands of the chicken to be basted every so often. But, and I’m sure most cricket fans can relate to this, as the reception in my house is poor, my moving from one bench to another induced machine-gun fire static from the radio. I had to time my moves to coincide with a boundary or the end of an over. But even my shrewdest endeavours were not able to permit unmolested listening. The game was getting far too exciting to miss a small tit-bit of wisdom from C.M.J.

So I went upstairs, with the radio, and lay down on a camp bed. If, instead of Test Match Special, I had Barber’s Adagio for Strings playing, the scene would resemble one from Platoon. Ponting was dismissed — quick singles are all well and good, but why tempt fate when embarking on chasing down 500+? — but the Huss batted on. Determined? Sure. Patient? Of course. Punishing of loose bowling? Naturally. And Hussey was pretty good too.

He was perhaps not able to exercise his powerful off-side stroke play, particularly backward of point, in India. Unless England post four slips and three gullies, I should think that Hussey will make no fewer than two centuries, and four over-fifty scores in the series.

From TS Trudgian, Canada

Mitchell Johnson: pace spearhead and a handy lower-order batsman
© Getty Images

I played my final season of cricket at the Australian National University when Mitchell Johnson burst onto the international one-dayer scene. This was during the period in which Australia was experimenting with one-day bowlers to accompany McGrath and Lee: Mick Lewis, Mitchell Johnson and Brett Dorey all made their debuts in the 2005-6 season. While the bookends have been recycled, MG Johnson is probably better now than ever. Dorey who must surely hold the record as Australia’s tallest cricketer, was beset by (understandable) back and joint ache; Lewis may not have recovered from being belted for a luckless 113 from his ten overs during that run-chase in Johannesburg.

Because of Brett Lee’s retirement and Shaun Tait’s self-imposed exile, Johnson has remained the only seasoned out-and-out quick bowler in the Australian Test squad. It makes sense to refer to Johnson as the ‘leader’ of the pack of bowlers, even though he is no longer thrown the new ball. The reasons he deserves his place at the top of the pile are his pace and surprising bounce.

Anyone with a pinch of cricketing sense expects Bollinger to extract bounce from a wicket: tall man, high arm action, bowling at pace: QED. But Johnson’s bowling from a much lower height also extracts bounce, and at times surprising amounts. Not only is the Mitch shorter than the Doug, but the former’s slightly slingy and round-arm action delivers the ball from lower still. He also appears to amble in, rather than steam in express-from-Roma-Street-style. But the strong shoulders and long arc traced by his left arm in preparing to deliver the ball generate the surprising pace, and thus the surprising bounce.

I remember in 2009 I led the Balliol College team to Cambridge for a two-day game. As we were having breakfast on the second morning, some of the players were trying to analyse a similar situation: why our big and bustling fast bowler delivered the ball more slowly than his shorter opening partner. Numerous explanations abounded— one of those on the edge of sanity was that the shorter opening bowler actually bowled more slowly, but he appeared to be faster, since he bowled a ‘heavy ball’. I stopped with a spoon of Weetabix raised mid-way to my mouth and declared that such substitution of equipment would be highly irregular, even in a pre-season friendly. But no, these people were serious! “The ball is actually travelling more slowly, but it ah ... feels as though it’s travelling more quickly since, ah ... it was delivered with more force.” Oh yes, I know what you are thinking. Surely if it were to be delivered with more force it would actually, and not just apparently, travel faster. This occurred to some of the saner players, but it was shot down by the wise old men of Gotham who smiled, shook their heads and said ‘It doesn’t work like that’. Indeed.

But anyway, back to Johnson.

It would probably be a bridge too far to suggest that Johnson’s batting would give him the nod over a truly great bowler like a Glenn McGrath. But it is a point worth stressing that there are many worse No. 8 batsmen in the world. Indeed, his batting gives the selectors an option, or at least denies then another excuse, to play five specialist bowlers. Bollinger, Johnson, Hilfenhaus, Smith and Hauritz would cover most eventualities, but such a combination is unlikely given that Shane Watson is still seen as being able to shoulder some of the seam bowling duties. The counter to this is that, sure, once upon a time this was true, but them were days when Watto used to break down more frequently than an English scrum. Yes, he can still send down some overs, but the Tests in India show that the taking of 20 wickets is our main concern. This contra-counter should lead people, ever so gently, towards the five-bowler attack, taking solace in Johnson’s ability to offer a rearguard defense or lower-order onslaught, if need be.

Whether or not he manages to sneak a ball with a centre of lead onto the field, he has the effect of bowling a ‘heavy’ ball, inasmuch as it tends to surprise the batsman. I do not think it premature to predict then that it will be the difference in lengths, rather than in lines, that will separate the two teams in the Ashes series. That Johnson naturally bowls a (deceptively) slanting line across the right handed batsman — he bowls quite close to the stumps and due to the low arm he almost delivers over the batsman’s leg stump — means that his bouncer will be naturally the most well-directed. Pace and bounce are his weapons, with swing on the second tier — the reverse of, say, Hilfenhaus. Expect a few to clatter into the helmets of Strauss and Cook and for gully and point to be dealt their fair share of catches.

From TS Trudgian, Canada

Ben Hilfenhaus: can swing, and adapt
© AFP

Ben Hilfenhaus may have begun his Test career as a ‘stock’ bowler — an epithet which seems to convey an unfortunate admission of mediocrity — but he has shown, in the Tests against Pakistan in England, and recently against India at Mohali, that he is becoming the weapon of choice, particularly when the ball begins to swing. Australia have been searching for a quality swing bowler, at a reasonable clip, since the departure of Jason Gillespie in 2006 — that will teach him to score a double-hundred.

Leaving aside the sorcery of reverse-swing, Hilfenhaus is the best exponent of swing in the current Australia squad. It is said that the high arm of Doug Bollinger induces some reverse-swing, but even the commentators quickest to proclaim ‘Don’t look now, but the ball is reversing’ would agree that 40 overs, or at the very least 30, must be bowled with the ‘mere’ weapon of conventional swing bowling. ‘The slightly pigeon-toed Hilfenhaus’ — words from Christopher Martin-Jenkins, not me — bowling a teasing line with variable away-swing is the perfect start to Australia’s efforts in the field.

But he is not a one-trick pony, as some would label Ryan Sidebottom: a great bowler of swing in the overcast north of England or the humid days at the ’Gabba, but a relatively innocuous trundler otherwise. During the recent Test at Mohali, Hilfenhaus did have the ball hooping around from time to time, but when the conditions were less favourable, he was able to temper the little remaining swing with a very consistent line of middle- and off-stump. It is this combination of style and guile that probably has Hilfenhaus pipping his English bowling equivalent (Steve Finn, say) by a nose. James Anderson is a fine proponent of swing bowling, but perhaps as the ‘strike’ weapon he is best contrasted with Mitchell Johnson (see the next volume).

The first-order approximation when bowling outswingers is to pitch every ball up to entice the drive and, if you are lucky, the nick. I have lost count of the number of times I heard Boycott on TMS bemoan the attitudes of almost all bowlers (with the noble exception of Yorkshireman R.J. Sidebottom, of course) who bowled at Headingley: they never ‘got it up’. That is something which I can neither confirm nor deny; in any case, pitching the ball up is a good start. One problem arises when you are not permitted sufficiently many slips — perhaps the run-chase is getting tight and the skipper needs to plug holes elsewhere.

Another is when the ball stops swinging, or the seam is ill-positioned and the ball doesn’t swing on that particular delivery: then for the batsman it is money for old rope. Both of these ‘problems’ occurred in Mohali: during the fifth day Ponting did not have four slips (nor did he have a third man and there was a small bounty of runs made from edges and steers through the vacant fourth-slip area). Moreover, after the first few overs, the prodigious swing had disappeared. VVS Laxman, who still haunts my dreams as only the second man (the first being Lara) who is destined to snatch an Australian defeat from the jaws of victory, reached forward and pounded these to the cover point boundary. It was Hilfenhaus who led the counter-attack, mixing up his full swing-for-the-nick deliveries with balls short of a length on an off-stump line and the occasional bouncer.

That both Sehwag and Raina should be dismissed off short deliveries should not have come as a surprise. Perhaps though, one might have thought these balls to be delivered with the height of Bollinger or the ferocity of Johnson.

That it was Hilfenhaus each time emphasises his skill in adapting his bowling to suit the conditions — of both pitch and batsman. It would be silly to blame his figures of none for 100 in the first innings on the pitch alone, but he was bowling great spells of full-pitched outswing, and the edges induced were either not carrying, or going ‘through’ the slips.

Certainly he will be a handful in Brisbane, but I am particularly excited about watching him bowl at Perth. Perhaps a further 250 or so for England to chase on the final day, Strauss well set on 50 and Trott in ‘the zone’ (although he takes five minutes to get there after each delivery), the Fremantle Doctor set to operate, four slips and two gullies in place, and the Hilf running in to a packed WACA crowd. . . game on.

From TS Trudgian, Canada

Ricky Ponting: the gambler’s gambler, has figured out how to beat the house
© AFP

If, in the past ten years of cricket, there has been a better puller and hooker of the short ball than R.T. Ponting, then it is only a ten-year-old kid named Dave who spends all his time swotting sixes on StickCricket. Watching Ponting rock onto the back foot to deposit a ball behind square imbues one with a sense of precision. Footage and first-hand accounts of Sir Donald Bradman playing the same shot invites wonder: wonder that his feet could move into position so quickly, and in this respect The Don is said to have George Headley as his companion up on the dais. Footage and tales of Sir Vivian Richards conjure up thoughts of fearlessness, hooking and pulling without flinching, inviting the next ball to be faster and shorter, and so it was, and invariably hit further. But then, Richards didn’t have to play against his own pace battery of Holding, Roberts, Marshall and Co. Seeing Matthew Hayden pull, more often than not on the front foot was to see sheer muscle and power. But with Ponting, the shot conjures up a certain clockwork regularity. Ball short, rock back, swivel around, thank you very much guv’nor.

It has been said that Punter is going through a losing streak at the gaming tables when pulling. Most probably, but given his string of successes with the stroke over the years, a small nadir was inevitable. There are the nay-sayers who talk about the failing of the eye to detect whether the ball is short enough to be ‘on’, and these people would have you believe that Ponting is actually 55 and not twenty years more sprightly. These swindlers would say that Ponting’s pull will never regain the Midas touch. Perhaps this argument might have some weight in the debate as to the leading run and century scorer after the retirements of Tendulkar and Ponting, but that is a story for another day — and is getting more tiresome each time we hear it. No, I am concerned about his role in the forthcoming Ashes series.

Yes, he is due for a big score: granted this in itself matters little in the build-up to the Ashes. Ponting in 2010 is not like Taylor in 1998 and nor is he like Waugh in 2003 (although, interestingly enough, both averaged more than 50 in their last 20 Test outings. Tubs’ 334* is an average booster if ever there was). It is difficult to imagine the negative thoughts towards his batting had Australia continued the dominance of the Steve Waugh era.

Jeff Thomson has no qualms with decrying Ponting’s captaincy as ‘ordinary’ and that his approach to setting the field belies his gambling cognomen. The days are certainly passed when scoring 500 runs and then throwing the ball to Messrs McGrath and Warne guaranteed a hefty victory inside four days.

Now Ponting needs to nurture the young blood of the side, while doing all those basics in the captain’s manual: regularly rotating the main bowlers, and the ends at which they bowl, chopping and changing field placings, and venturing into the unexpected (throwing the ball to M.E.K. Hussey, or more dramatically, M.J. Clarke in Sydney 2008) — but he has to learn these tricks, not merely revise them, having had no need to resort to them in the past.

Expect then, to see the gambling nature come out in his captaincy in Australia.He joins Billy Murdoch in a select group of two Australian captains who have handed back the Ashes in England. This, as judged by all and sundry after his comments in the aftermath of the 2009 Ashes series, displeased him greatly.

In familiar territory, and away from the Gary Pratts of this world, it is a fair bet that Ponting will be much more aggressive in the forthcoming series. For the first time in years we will have an old-fashioned combination of leg-spin and off-spin by two front-line bowlers. He also has the option of tossing the ball to all barring himself and Haddin, plenty of world-class slip fielders, and excellent short-leg in Simon Katich, and a genuine allrounder in Shane Watson. He will be cutting and thrusting with order and the odd dash of randomness. Like most skippers, when he is making the right decisions and the team is playing well, he will come into his own while batting. That line of reasoning doesn’t apply to a Courtney Walsh, but when you take 500 wickets you can bat as you damn well please.

Lastly the footwork of Ponting deserves some comment. I have seen no cricketer make a larger stride forwards to a ball short of a length. As a short man Ponting is unable to retain his right foot on the ground if he wishes to prod necessarily far forward. Tendulkar, granted is even shorter, but plays more on his toes and relies less on mammoth strides down the wicket. There have been some slight problems with this in the past, in particular lbw dismissals to a swinging ball — although his maiden innings, four short of a century, was terminated by this striding forward without regard to the ball’s missing a second set of stumps. But Ponting ensures that balls which are verging on being pitched short are met on the drive.

He is a cunning customer of course: if the balls short of a length are hit on the front foot then Joe bowler tries to pitch shorter still. Then we see the clockwork motion of rocking back, swivelling and pulling for four: Punter, the gambler’s gambler, has figured out how to beat the house.

From TS Trudgian, Canada

Michael Clarke, a man ready to assume leadership
© Getty Images

I had the bitter-sweet pleasure of watching Michael Clarke bat on the fifth day of the 2009 Ashes series, at Lord’s. Australia were set what would have been a world-record run chase of 522 to win. The day’s play started with Australia 5 for 313, with Clarke and Brad Haddin unbeaten on 125 and 80, respectively. Midway through the fourth day Australia were 5 for 128 and we looked for all money to be preparing to spike our guns and pull the flag down for what had been 70-odd year fortress at Lord’s ... but now the indomitable Australian fighting spirit was coming to the fore. A mere trifling 200-odd to win, with two batsmen well set, both of whom had shown limited weakness against the relatively innocuous Lord’s wicket. But my Dad, forever the pessimist, resorted to the age-old maxim that ‘everybody is vulnerable when starting again’. And so it came to pass that Haddin was dismissed in the second over, and the paternal pessimist decided that we had best open our pre-packed lunch soon (as well as the first of our permitted four pints of beer [thank you MCC members]) as we ‘probably won’t make it that far anyway’. Lamentably, he was right. With two-dozen schoolkids behind us cheering incessantly, and thinking that every player with a hat was Andrew Strauss, Dad and I watched as Australia were dismissed before the lunch interval, entitling us to the poor-man’s consolation prize of a 20% refund.

Though Clarke batted on for only another 10 overs before missing a straight Swann’un, it was the manner of his batting which was most impressive. Two-hundred runs to make in a day with No. 8 new at the crease is not a batsman’s idea of a good time: he faces criticism for doing anything short of pulling off a Botham-esque barrage by landing on Chance a few times and managing to get out of jail, free. Clarke rotated the strike, allowed Mitchell Johnson (who, despite having a crisis of confidence and overestimating the dimensions of the pitch while bowling, is one of the better No. 8s since Lawrence Dallaglio) to get settled, left well alone the still swinging ball which was Haddin’s undoing, and with furtive, yet frequently cheerful, looks at the scoreboard, he was setting the stage for the biggest run-chase of all time. In short, he showed ‘maturity’; this is not used in the weakened, cabbage-water fashion to say that someone who was hot-headed is no slightly less so (KP Pietersen, anyone?), but to say that he has stepped into the breach, earned his spurs and become what was expected of him: a man ready to assume the leadership.

A hundred on debut and a fairytale 6-9 in his fourth Test signalled, or rather trumpeted, the arrival of MJ Clarke. His salad days were to last for a couple of years, before he was told that a stint back at Shield cricket would ‘do him the world of good’. It is out of this demotion that the focused, yet freely playing Clarke arose. Clarke has shown, not merely in Test matches, but in his stand-in stints as one-day captain, that he has a mind for the game. That he captains the side in Twenty20 cricket is, to some degree, of no real importance for this discussion, and his much-maligned ‘inability’ to change gears in between the Test and hit-and-giggle format is something to be addressed another day. Clarke has been both playing lieutenant in leadership and acting as heir presumptive for the position of No. 3.

At the moment he is able to enter (I hope!) as the ball is becoming old, the field begins to spread and spinners try an over or two. That is where I wish to spend at least one paragraph: Clarke’s footwork against spin. It was said of the batsmen in the Golden Age of cricket (Ranjitsinhji, Trumper and Hobbs in particular) that one of their defining qualities was the ability to score off both the front and the back foot, with no pre-determined preference. The advice of ‘if in doubt, push out’ is sound enough, and I was bowled by a grubber at Blenheim Palace on a wet May wicket after throwing this caution into the wind. But most of us are not good batsman (I am certainly not, as evinced by a mate’s coining the verb ‘grim-reapered’ to be used in the phrase ‘You just grimreapered the stumps’, after I had been dismissed hit-wicket following an overly lusty and ultimately one-handed pull-shot), and so the adages we need are not those for the big-game players. Clarke pushes forward, sure, and when he does he is quicker on his feet than most. He does not thunder after balls, the pitch of which he can not possible reach, but rather all front-foot shots (not necessarily to half-volleys) be played according to the length he wishes. When the ball is a trifle shorter, in the zone of indetermination (which is not so ominous sounding as ‘corridor of uncertainty’) and he is in doubt, he does not slavishly adhere to our pushing-out epithet. The right-foot goes back and to his left, the front leg straightens and the ball is hit mere inches before the stumps and driven for what might be called a late cover-drive.

Pup is due some runs again, and although his form against England was great in July 2009, he will be keen to settle the so-near, so-far innings at Lord’s. And if in say, the Sydney Test, Australia needs three wickets with two overs to spare, who better to have a trundle?

From TS Trudgian, Canada

Simon Katich's strengths are his patience and his ability to adapt to the situation © AFP

His bizarre footwork aside, Simon Katich is surely the opener’s opener. His ability to leave the ball, patiently, over after over, is something that is reminiscent of an old-fashioned approach to cricket. The price he puts on his wicket has been analysed by statisticians hither and yon, but in my mind his temperament must surely single him out as one of our most outstanding opening batsmen, and a fortiori, give us the first of many head starts to the Ashes.

The traditional opening bat is almost as rare these days as a smear-free election campaign. It is, after all, a classic exercise in investing in an innings. Our conventional opener will not be alarmed to face consecutive maidens, given that batting is only going to become easier once he adapts to the conditions of the wicket, the variations in the bowling attack, and gets his feet and body moving with fluent, if not Calypso, rhythm. Some ne’er-do-well pundits will say that in the modern game of scoring four runs an over or (better - read worse - when India and Sri Lanka engage in another run-bloated draw: 700 for 4 plays 650 for 6 — bowlers: thanks for coming) there is no place for indulgence in dot balls and ‘getting the eye in’ over the course of a session. Hello, Mr Sehwag.

But even these maverick commentators will concede that 80* from 150 balls is much better than a biff-laden bludgeoning of 30 from 20, before planting the feet in concrete for yet another cavalier uppercut over point, only to be caught at third man. By your leave, Mr Sehwag.

Here, though, is where the Kat gets the cream. He will play on and on, letting balls go, nurdling them onto the leg-side for ones and twos, and get to 20 from 80 deliveries. But then he opens up, and not in a power-play how-do-you-do manner, but he uses the time and energy he has hitherto invested into his innings, and starts to kick back, living the high life on the interest payments.

His pair of 80s in the first MCC Spirit of Cricket Test against Pakistan this last English summer, proved that, albeit in different ways. In both innings he top-scored — in the first at a reasonable clip (80 from 138), and in the second, when he was trying like Lot to escape but his partners kept on looking behind them, he scored 83 from 174.

The first innings would test the patience of these Johnny-come-latelies who are infatuated with Twenty20 tonking. Indeed, I was watching in the early hours of the Canadian morning, and saw his strike-rate tip lower and lower, almost falling through the ‘10’ mark could you imagine?! But then, once he was in, he pushed and cut (he doesn’t cut as well as B.C. Lara, but then, who does?) his way out of the doldrums. He never looked like getting out. I write that sheepishly, since, during the ball on which he was finally dismissed, it was plain to anyone with half an eye and a cork tooth that he looked like getting out. Anyway, he is not afraid to toe the traditional line of looking after your wicket, while the runs look after themselves.

Certainly he is not in the same sphere of influence as Matthew Hayden, who could take a game away from the opposition with a session of front-foot pulls and, almost Trudgian-esque, advancing down the wicket. But it is the patience of Katich and his ability to adapt to the situation (cf. the first and second innings mentioned above) which gives him the edge. Moreover, the manner in which he scores his runs is very traditional. With the exception of his despatching a few long hops and full tosses, his run-scoring strokes in front of the wicket are invariably produced from soft, seemingly too soft, pushes.

That the defensive stroke can be turned into a run-scoring stroke without any loss of the technical sheen (viz. wristy flicks across the line) is a salute to the openers of the past. There might even be a nurdle to the leg-side, but with Katich it will be played with even softer hands than it will with Collingwood, the nurdliest of all nurdlers. A small push, timed to perfection. And how does he guarantee the timing for such a stroke? By having watched ball and ball pass by, investing in his innings and knowing that, when he does play at the ball, there is a high chance that this will yield the mono-syllabic declaration of approval that Michael Holding gives on air, ‘Runs.’

From Steve Pye, United Kingdom

	It's hard to make up one's mind over what is the better option © Getty Images

Cast your mind back to September, 2005. England had just won that series, cricket was cool, and people who previously mocked the game were annoyingly approaching you in the street or at work and saying how much they now loved the game. All was rosy in the English cricket garden. But a cloud loomed over the game in England, one that split cricket fans opinions down the middle.

The Ashes series of 2005 was the last to be aired live on terrestrial television for the foreseeable future, as Sky were now the top dog when it came to test match cricket coverage in the UK. Before Sky we had the BBC and Channel 4. Growing up in the eighties, cricket to me was Peter West, Soul Limbo by Booker T and the MGs, and of course Richie Benaud. So you can imagine my astonishment, and the general shock among the cricket viewing public of the UK, when it was announced that from 1999, Test match cricket would move to Channel 4. Channel 4! The station of low viewing figures, of horse racing, a Liverpudlian soap opera, a letter/number quiz, but not our national summer sport, surely not.

But this was how it was to be, and there was nothing we could do about it. To be fair to Channel 4, their coverage was a breath of fresh air. Within a year I was a convert to Mark Nicholas, Mambo Number 5 by Lou Bega, and of course Richie Benaud. The BBC’s coverage now seemed so archaic, and it felt like I had my head turned from the safe older option I had grown up with, to a more attractive and younger looking alternative.

Although Channel 4’s dalliance with the game was short, they should be commended on their involvement in the game. And then came Sky. They had been covering England tours since 1990 and to cricket fans they were a godsend on those cold wintry nights. To top it all, they really knew how to present the game to the viewing public. Having said that, it was still a surprise when it was announced that from 2006, English Test matches would be shown exclusively live on this platform. It was a decision that enraged many. How could our summer sport be screened on a station that only a few million people had access to? Why should we pay for the privilege of watching English Test matches? How could the future generations of the game in England gain any heroes if they didn’t have access to Sky? All valid questions.

On the other hand you had the pro-Sky brigade. Those who hoped that the company’s investment in cricket would help the game’s grassroots, and who no longer wanted to have to put up with an Andre Agassi tennis match or horse racing interrupting an important Test. It was a divisive issue.

So where do I sit on this? Somewhat annoyingly on the fence. I appreciate that not everyone has access to Sky and that is not right. Whereas I grew up watching Botham, Lamb and Gower, who will the kids of today learn to idolise if they are not lucky enough to have a dish stuck on the side of their house? But on the other hand, I appreciate having the cricket shown on a dedicated sports channel. One that won’t miss Adil Rashid’s first Test wicket because they have to nip off to Hollyoaks. And if the vast amounts of money ploughed into the game by Sky can be wisely spent then surely that must be a good thing?

To be honest, I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place. Perhaps if I didn’t have Sky then my opinion would be much more definite, although even with access to satellite television I can see where the problems arise. It would be interesting to hear what others think about this. What I do know is that although Sky’s current Ashes coverage is first class, it is a shame that the 2009 series was not viewed by a much wider audience. Perhaps I secretly yearn for that feel-good summer factor of 2005, conveniently forgetting the fact that at key stages of that series, Channel 4 left the cricket to cover horse racing. Oh I really don’t know. If my thinking is so muddled, I wonder what the rest of the nation is like.

From Imran Coomaraswamy United Kingdom
A response to Peter Roebuck’s “No time for back-slapping”.

	Andrew Strauss, Kevin Pietersen and Andy Flower - none born in England © Getty Images

I’m a regular follower of Peter Roebuck’s columns for Cricinfo and the Sydney Morning Herald. The former Somerset captain is certainly one of the most eloquent and thought-provoking cricket writers around today. His most recent opinion piece for Cricinfo, however, a warning to English cricket that it’s "no time for back-slapping," strikes me as faintly ridiculous, and some of the comments in it regarding English-born Asian cricketers I find really rather disconcerting.

The Sydney-based Roebuck has long maintained that Aussie dominance in the Ashes is a fitting reflection of the contrast between (what he perceives to be) the vibrant and competitive "prevailing culture" in his adopted home and a chronic national malaise back in the old country. It seems the Australian team’s sudden fall from grace has upset his worldview. Convinced that "English culture" still lacks "vim and vigour," he looks elsewhere for an explanation for England’s recent success.

Its Ashes team was not entirely a product of English cricket, or indeed the country at large. Four of the top six batsmen were born in South Africa and raised within its traditions. The coach comes from Zimbabwe, two of the players come from the local Asian communities, and two Irishmen have fought their way into the one-day party. It’s hard to deny that Kevin Pietersen and Johnathan Trott learnt their cricket in South Africa, but including Andrew Strauss (who has lived in England since the age of six) and Matt Prior (who has represented Sussex from Under-12 level upwards) on that list is frankly comical.

What is less humorous, however, is Roebuck’s reference to English-born Asians Ravi Bopara and Monty Panesar. In what way is either of these two ‘not entirely a product of English cricket, or indeed the country at large?’ The implication here is that players from local Asian communities are somehow not really English. In fact, Roebuck goes on to articulate this opinion explicitly: “At present, counties have roughly 119 foreign-born players on their books, and that does not include Irishmen (14), Welshmen or Scots. Obviously the 23 locally born Asian players have been omitted. Of course they are a separate category.”

Why should locally born Asians even enter into this discussion? In this context, why are they a “separate category” rather than simply locals? Roebuck is on very dangerous ground here, as in the not so distant past, there have been a number of highly controversial public debates on the “Englishness” of black and Asian cricketers representing England, notably the racially charged Henderson affair in 1995. In this case Roebuck makes clear that he celebrates the success of these cricketers, but feels it disguises the fact that “Anglo-Saxon England is underperforming.” (Which Ashes series was he watching? In the one I just saw, Bopara and Panesar underperformed and were dropped.)

He notes that the rise of the locally born Asians in county cricket “says a lot about them and English society, all of it favourable.” His remarks about them in this article say a lot about him, not all of it so favourable.

It can hardly be convincingly argued that the England cricket team is a product of the system or the national will. To the contrary it consists in no small part of settlers and sons. And it's the same in county cricket. Whatever Roebuck might mean by “the national will,” I find it rather offensive that he regards recent immigrants and their children as being at odds with or excluded from it. There is also no small amount of irony in the fact that these comments are being made by someone who is one of the five million current residents of Australia who were born outside that country’s shores.

Roebuck regards the Ashes as both a Test series and a test of the relative merits of the protagonists’ cricketing systems and wider cultures. The essence of his argument in this piece is that while deserving of its victory, Strauss’s team was not really English, and hence the real England does not deserve bragging rights over Australia - the former is still morally bankrupt, while the latter “remains intact.”

That sporting success is a direct measure of national self-worth is questionable to say the least. As for the notion of “prevailing culture,” one appalled Cricinfo reader (krumb) has rightly condemned his description of England today as an “absurd caricature that bares [sic] absolutely no relation to a deep and complex society.” I might add that for all its faults, this society is a great deal more inclusive than Roebuck’s comments betray him to be.

Other Cricinfo readers have been quick to comment that elsewhere in the same piece, Roebuck manages to make ill-informed statements about the origins of Yorkshire and Geordie dialects, the history of black professional footballers in England, the previous captains of the Indian cricket team and the composition of Surrey’s playing staff. He also sounds a familiar refrain about strong fast bowlers from the mines and classical batsmen from public schools, portraying these as English cricket’s now sadly exhausted seams of cricketing talent, rather than manifestations of a class divide and stereotypes that ought to be eradicated.

Amid all this, it must be said that Roebuck makes some very valid points. There is clearly a need to examine whether the success of the likes of Pietersen and Trott is masking a lack of up-and-coming home-grown talent. The jury is still out on whether the various academies and specialist coaches are having an impact. Conflicts of interest in the selection process and the media must be resolved sooner rather than later. The England team is still ranked fifth in the world, and the ECB would indeed do well to avoid back-slapping in favour of further soul-searching.

At this point, I should also make clear that I do not believe Peter Roebuck to be a racist. I have read enough of his writings on cricketers of all backgrounds to be convinced otherwise. However, if he intends not to “belittle diversity,” he really ought to reconsider a number of his comments in this piece, and revise his perceptions of English national identity. Finally, I can understand that Surrey’s recent need to sign wicketkeeper Steve Davies from Worcestershire might give someone cause to question the county’s own youth system (though as the 23-year-old is a product of the National Academy and England Under-19s, I wouldn’t myself see this a symptom of English cricket’s ill-health).

On the other hand, that Roebuck apparently interprets the fact that “two Afghan refugees open the bowling for their Under-16s” as further evidence of Surrey cricket’s decline is pretty shocking. I should note here that I have no proof other than Roebuck’s word that there are any “Afghan refugees” in Surrey’s Emerging Players Program. What I do know, however, is that they do not have an Under-16 team. Aman Shinwari has opened the bowling for both Surrey Under-15s and Under-17s. From his name, I would guess that he is of Pashtun origin. On the Surrey website, he names James Anderson as his favourite player, and states that his aspiration is to play cricket for England. I sincerely hope that no one ever tells him his success is an indication that Surrey cricket has “run out of gas.”

From Jacob Astill, Australia

It seems the English press is already planning Andrew Flintoff's legacy to cricket before his career has actually finished, calling him, among other things, England's best player since Botham. And as his Test career is ending after the final Ashes Test at the Oval, it seemed like as good a time as any to ask, considering his record at international and domestic level, does England's favourite son deserve to have had such an effect on world cricket? Does he deserve the accolade "great"?

In the sporting world, cricket stands alone in allowing individual statistics to tell the story of a player's career. Admittedly, statistics don't tell the whole story- Garry Sober's bowling statistics don't reflect his true brilliance as an all-round bowler alone. But could you possibly describe the imperiousness of Franz Beckenbauer by looking at the amount of goals he scored for Germany? Or can you illustrate the genius of Roger Federer by quoting his first-serve percentage? The answer is an unwavering no. But you can get an accurate idea of how good a batsman Brian Lara is because of the amount of runs and centuries he's scored. So, after hearing all the hype about him, and rolling your eyes at the English media saying he's a better allrounder than Botham, when you finally get around to perusing his Test records, one thing unexpectedly stands out: he's not actually that good.

In 78 Tests, he's made 3816 runs at 32.06, and taken 225 wickets at 32.59. A rather underwhelming record, wouldn't you say? There is only one criterion that a good allrounder must fill: he should be able to hold his place in the side as either a batsman or a bowler. With a record like that, Flintoff would be lucky to hold his place as either, and yet he is picked because he "brings an X-factor" to both the batting and bowling departments. Yet Flintoff's record becomes even more uninspiring when you consider he's made only five Test centuries, and taken only three five-wicket hauls in his 78-Test career. Now at this stage I can almost hear every single Englishman screaming at me from the other side of the world. I can hear snatches of "What about 2005?", "Statistics don't tell the whole story" and "He's always injured", so let me counter these.

The Ashes series in 2005 will forever be known as Flintoff's Ashes, mainly because it was his batting and bowling that really proved a turning point in the series. But it wasn't like he made 700 runs and took 35 wickets; he made 402 runs and took 24 wickets, which are good figures, but not amazing. And look, even though I'm writing this trying to tell you Flintoff isn't that good, in that series he was irresistible, and any Aussie would've swapped Dizzy Gillespie or Matty Hayden for Flintoff in a heartbeat.

But is a great performance in one series the basis for a legend? Should the English community be tearing down the "Our best player" plaque from over Sir Ian Botham's mantlepiece and placing it on bended knee at Flintoff's door? I'll say it again: statistics don't tell the whole story. But in cricket, if you don't make runs or take wickets, there is not really anywhere to hide.

Before the current Ashes series, I heard that Flintoff made an unbeaten 90-something in a County Twenty20 match, followed by a large amount of fawning from the British media, to the effect of "He's coming good at the right time". But a conveniently ignored fact about that innings is that it was his highest score in all top-level cricket since he made a century at Nottingham in the 2005 Ashes series (But he was injured..., Yeah, yeah, I'll get there in a minute). And look, excuses can always be made for his lack of centuries, runs, wickets, and Michelles at Test level, such as batting at 6 and 7, he doesn't get as much of an opportunity with the bat as players batting higher. But take the example of Marcus North, Australia's current No.6. In six Tests, North has already made three centuries and a 90, almost four-fifths of Flintoff's Test century tally in one-thirteenth of the Tests Flintoff's played.

And an excuse for his bowling: he's an all-rounder, he's not a frontline bowler. But he is a frontline bowler. He opens the bowling, bowls by far the most out of England's pacemen, and doesn't take wickets.

Now for the final point: But he's always injured, and look, I won't disagree with you there. But if he's been injured so much, how has he had the chance to have such an impact on the game that using the adjective "great" doesn't seem like overkill? And now contrast him to the truly great players that have earned their adjective after injury: Dennis Lillee had almost crippling stress fractures in his back such that he had to wear a full-torso cast for 12 months, and then remodel his action so he wouldn't break down again; Shane Warne had numerous shoulder and spinning finger surgeries during his career, and after a particular spinning finger surgery, had to learn how to spin the ball a totally different way; Garry Sobers recovered from a car crash that killed one of his best friends in the mid-1950's; Sachin Tendulkar has overcome a recurring tennis elbow problem throughout his career that has, at times, prevented him from being able to hold a cricket bat; Bradman almost died from peritonitis midway through his career.

Flintoff's recoveries from injury tend to pale in comparison, don't they? Even if Flintoff was to produce a match-winning performance at The Oval, it would be wrong to suggest he should join the pantheon of great allrounders that includes Botham, Miller, Imran and others. Sobers has a category to himself. But throughout his career, Flintoff's performances have been overvalued. He bowls fast, but bowls too short and too far outside the off-stump. As a batsman, his technique is inherently flawed, and his record lacks consistent contributions to an English total. Flintoff's "legend" has come not from performances on the wicket, but from his ability to gain the support from a parochial crowd, and to an extent, a nation. A nation which will forever nostalgically harp back to his performances in 2005 and say, "That Flintoff, wasn't he something?" But an underachieving career punctuated by injury, interspersed a brilliant but solitary performance in an Ashes series is not basis for a legend.

From Benjamin Matthews, United Kingdom

	Australia had no answer to Ian Botham's heroics in 1981 © Getty Images

Reginald Shirley Brooks earned himself a certain immortality with 40 words published in The Sporting Times in 1882. Little did Brooks know that his mocking obituary was to spark more than a century worth of bouncers, beamers, slingers, sledgers and wangers perennially being flung in disdain between two nations with the sole aim of beating each other hollow. Such a fusillade of antagonism is not present in any other series worldwide.

The Indian and Pakistani rivalry can undoubtedly be extremely intense, hostile and pressured but its roots stem from political and diplomatic unease. In purely a cricketing sense, a win-at-all-costs mentality epitomised by early characters such as Warwick ‘the Big Ship’ Armstrong and Douglas Jardine, echoed more recently by modern greats such as Glenn McGrath help stage these Anglo-Australian stand-offs as incomparable cricketing theatre. “We have come to beard the kangaroo in his den - and try to recover those Ashes”, said Hon. Ivo Bligh in 1882. Bligh was the first to speak of this glorious rivalry in terms of winning the ‘Ashes’ and it is a series which has produced wonderful cricketing quotes and jargon thereafter.

Bernard Bosanquet was the first to bowl the ‘googly’, or the ‘wrong 'un’, for instance. ‘Bodyline’ was coined after Jardine’s infamous tactics to prise out the impeccable Don Bradman and ‘sledging’ is a technique used since the inception of these biannual engagements, refined as an eminent fielding tactic in the 1990s by a poker-faced Steve Waugh. ‘Ashes to Ashes, dust to dust’, ‘if Lillee don’t get ya, Thommo must’ read the Sydney Telegraph in 1974-75 Ashes series. This grand spectacle can represent two nations colliding with malice aforethought as Bill Voce’s threat to the Australian team of 1932 to ‘knock their bloody heads off’ can highlight.

Such contempt provides a player with the necessary inspiration to stake his claim for cricketing immortality and to remould the record books. Evocable performances within Ashes matches can define careers. Jim Laker’s 19 wickets for 90 runs in the 1956 series remains a bowling record to this day, Shane Warne’s ‘Ball of the century’ to Mike Gatting in 1993 created an iconic sporting moment. Individual rivalries are created that linger in the memory; microcosms of particular series that compound the importance of the continuing competitiveness of the Ashes and more importantly, Test cricket as a sport.

	The ball of the century was the start of more than a decade of torment for England's batsmen © Getty Images

Another record that still stands today is Don Bradman’s aggregate of 974 runs in the 1930 series, surpassing Wally Hammond’s 905 a year earlier, forcing the latter, fine player as he was, into the role of eternal understudy to The Don’s leading batsman. These rivalries have helped to forge standards and inspire players to strive to play in this pinnacle of Test match cricket. “[the Ashes has] always been the pinnacle of Test match cricket ... the only thing I ever wanted to do was to be part of an England Test match or an Ashes series,” said Australia’s leading run-scorer Ricky Ponting this year.

Test cricket remains the pinnacle of the game despite the emergence of the IPL, its piles of cash and potential exodus of world-class talent to its temptations. The IPL has an understandably increasing appeal as its profile and investors become larger year-by-year, however its draw is not irresistible for all. Players such as Michael Clarke, Mitchell Johnson and Stuart Broad have rejected advances from the IPL; decisions that embody a commitment to Test cricket and highlight the importance of the Ashes. Broad sums up this importance in justifying why he chose not to travel to play in the IPL: “You can make history. People have a passion for the Ashes and I think to the nation it’s the most important thing in the cricketing world. It’s the pinnacle.” These are thoughts also echoed by Ricky Ponting, who believes that the Ashes remain the pinnacle of the game for any Australian cricketer. As alluded to by such players, the Ashes retains a competitive edge that no other series comes close to. WG Grace’s perfidious Albion through the Bradman era, the unrelenting Lillee and Thomson, Beefy’s last stand, ‘The Ball of the Century’, Waugh’s ‘mental disintegration’, right up to the return of the Urn in 2005 - these are a few of the many threads of history running through the rich tapestry of the Ashes, instantly re-callable for anyone involved with the game.

“The aim of English cricket is, in fact, mainly to beat Australia.” Jim Laker’s sentiments echo that it is a series that unites a country. Losing to the Poms is unthinkable for any Aussie captain for the backlash he will face back home. For both sides a loss will render any other successes of an Ashes year redundant. An Ashes summer can blind foresight to future series and the ecstasy of a victory can erase any memories of recent team failures. Both England and Australia were knocked out of the World Twenty20 at the beginning of this summer without so much as a whimper, no huge disappointment was evident - minds were already set on the main event of the summer. Little can equal the public euphoria stoked up by Test cricket’s most important series. Memories can be conjured from instances ranging from the ludicrous (David Lloyd’s pink sheath), to the brilliant (Bob Willis’ hostile 8 for 43 in 1981), from the genuinely unsettling (Bert Oldfield’s head fracture inflicted by a searing Harold Larwood bouncer), to moments of sheer hysteria (John Snow’s ‘come on, then’ gestures to Sydney’s Hill and the ensuing volley of beer cans). Herein lies the magic of the Ashes: an enchanting sporting institution that will forever captivate, exhilarate and provoke.

From Benjamin Matthews, United Kingdom

	Ian Bell is pragmatically the best replacement for Pietersen © Getty Images

This Test is possibly the fulcrum of the series and so momentum will no doubt be the buzz word around the England dressing-room at present. Come Thursday as two patched up teams move to Edgbaston, both sides will be looking to try to exploit weaknesses apparent within each camp.

For Australia, concerns about Phillip Hughes and Mitchell Johnson will need to be addressed, while the loss of Kevin Pietersen has posed the English team noticeable issues in the middle order. If Australia are to seize the initiative in this series, a win is pivotal at a ground where of the 43 Tests staged, England have won 22.

England have handed a Test lifeline to Ian Bell, brought in to replace Pietersen. Bell is a batsman of undisputed talent; a classical stroke-maker with a honed technique, solid enough to slot in at No. 3, possibly the most difficult of Test batting positions. Many expect Bell to be inserted at first-wicket down to allow a visibly less-than-comfortable Ravi Bopara to drop down a place or two to repair his fractured confidence by way of facing the older ball.

Bopara has looked unsettled in the first two Tests; batting at an irregular tempo without his usual verve and swagger at the crease. Bell, with his tighter technique and impressive county form, appears a sound choice to replace a player who is showing signs of mental and technical fatigue at first drop. While such an order change seems to be the consensus, England must resist the temptation to do so as this would be to the detriment of both men.

Bopara possesses the character to recover his form and succeed at No. 3 where an ability to exert one’s personality on an innings is crucial. Bopara has the potential to dictate the pace and rhythm of an innings, in a manner that no other English batsman currently does. The selectors strive for continuity and so must persevere with Bopara at three.

Bell is a batsman who tends to bat successfully in the slipstream of more dominant batsmen. Add to that, a moderate Test record at No. 3 (averaging 31) and a tendency to compound an innings in the middle order show why Bell will fit better at No. 5 (where he has unfinished business, averaging 54.4).

	Ravi Bopara possesses the character to recover his form and succeed at No. 3 © Getty Images

A steely Paul Collingwood, having scored a double-century against the Australians batting at No. 4 in 2006, should not have too many qualms about being asked to bat one position higher.

So is Bell the correct choice? He has responded to the request from the England hierarchy to show “more hunger” this season, scoring runs at an average of 64.70 across 13 innings, but have the selectors shown a lack of trust in the county game, or is there simply a dearth of talent to choose from?

Bell, with the experience of two Ashes series behind him is pragmatically perhaps the best option, but poor records in both of these series (502 runs at 25.10) have prompted a number of different names to be put forward for consideration, if only to provide batting cover for the Edgbaston Test.

Bell’s Warwickshire team-mate Jonathan Trott has lodged a firm case for selection, having scored 101 more runs than Bell over the same number of innings this season, and what with batting at No. 4, would have represented a straight swap for Pietersen.

The Kent pair Rob Key and Joe Denly are names often bandied about but both, alongside Worcestershire’s Stephen Moore, would be forced to bat out of position if selected. As with Trott and Moore, the selectors would be loathe to hand out a Test debut in the middle of an Ashes series, and Denly’s time should come. Key’s time may have passed in the longer format of the game, as may the oft-overlooked Owais Shah and the popular choice of Mark Ramprakash. If the selectors want to look towards the future, then James Hildreth and Eoin Morgan are two emerging names who could produce a big impact in the middle order and who would benefit from being part of an Ashes squad as spare batting options.

All of these opinions are heresy due to Bell’s inclusion, but Adil Rashid is a final name worth a mention. To include Rashid would require Andrew Flintoff to be shunted up the order to No. 6, and so would result in an even loftier weight of responsibility on the Lancastrian’s broad shoulders. England’s bowling attack would be strengthened, but the batting unit would suffer and the attack regained a ruthlessness at Lord’s that was absent in Cardiff.

Of the unit, Flintoff, Graeme Swann and James Anderson are certainties for the third Test but one of Graham Onions and Stuart Broad could yet make way for an apparently rejuvenated Steve Harmison. England may try to replicate the performance from Harmison and Onions when they bowled Durham to victory at Edgbaston earlier in the season. The plan to forge home the advantage may leave Broad on the sidelines as he is yet to find his true character as a bowler, sometimes appearing indecisive about how to bowl in certain situations.

Having said that, England are unlikely to tamper with an attack that produced 20 wickets at Lord’s, and with a traditionally partisan Edgbaston crowd acting as a 12th man, England remain in a strong position despite the loss of Pietersen.

From Nick Broad, United Kingdom

	Pietersen may have great flair, but he has failed to deliver when it really matters © Getty Images

Australia rejoices and England frets as Kevin Pietersen, statistically the best batsman in the England side, undergoes Achilles surgery and misses the rest of the Ashes. However, is he really that important to England's prospects? Perhaps not, especially if we use the criteria of Test hundreds and the circumstances they were made in.

To my mind, Pietersen has played only one truly great innings - his 158 versus Australia at the Oval in 2005. There, under extreme pressure, with England's grip on the Ashes marginal, he took the Australian's apart like no other Englishman since Ian Botham in 1986-87.

Since then, there have been two innings against Sri Lanka in 2006, which were big and full of exciting and innovative shots, but only his 142 at Birmingham could be justified as being 'special' to one degree or another. His runs against Pakistan, Australia, and the West Indies in subsequent series were made on either on flat pitches or against poor attacks.

His hundreds against India were good, but unrewarded. However, Pietersen did nothing against Sri Lanka. Twice he came to England's rescue home and away against New Zealand, but again while these were crucial innings given the state of the matches, both were made against woefully inadequate attacks.

Since then, there have been three centuries against very good attacks (South Africa and India) and one against an average attack while waiting for a declaration. The record in those three games where he hit a century - one England win. That makes 16 hundreds. The win/draw/loss ratio for those hundreds is seven wins, eight draws and one loss.

There are four nineties, but of those, only two are noteworthy - 97 versus West Indies at Jamaica earlier this year and a 94 against South Africa at Birmingham in August 2008. They are noteworthy because they both ended with his wicket being given away to mediocre spinners and England losing the Test. England have lost three of the games where he scored nineties.

Therefore I would argue, Pietersen is a wonderfully talented batsman who puts bums on seats, he can take any attack apart given favourable conditions and circumstances, he has a great average and an exceptional conversion ratio. However, what he has not done consistently is carry the England team on his back and win games. Sleep easy England.

From Daniel Keane, Australia

Sometime on the final morning at Lord's, the thought must have crossed or re-crossed Ricky Ponting's mind - more than the Ashes are at stake this series. As if the tiny urn is not enough - is not, indeed, all - circumstances have conspired to add a little extra spice.

Flintoff's impending retirement and Ponting's desire to avoid losing a second series in England will no doubt spur on their respective sides. More importantly, however, the outcome of this series will retrospectively determine how we regard the previous two. After two tests, the legacies of 2005 and 2006/07 already appear locked in battle. Both series have been invoked, the former rather more than the latter. Flintoff's bowling at Lord's was, as Stuart MacGill put it, "straight from the 2005 highlights reel." The only question about next week's Edgbaston Test will be whether the memories of 'last time' linger quietly or are broadcast loudly.

By contrast, viewers of Australia's first (and only) innings at Cardiff could be forgiven for thinking they were watching the sixth test of 2007, rather than the first of 2009. After two years, it seemed that Australia had merely resumed its winning run against its old foe. Hundreds from Katich, Ponting, North and Haddin helped raise Australia's highest Ashes total since 1934. Sometimes, the roles were even reversed. Panesar and Anderson's unbroken last wicket stand was likened to Lee and McGrath's at Old Trafford four years ago. Collingwood's match-saving 74 was every bit as important as Ponting's 156.

Despite (or perhaps because of) their contrasting scorelines, the 2005 and 2006/07 series shared several important features. Reputations were tarnished. Ponting's captaincy - already questioned by some - lost further legitimacy. In Australia, Flintoff proved himself an unsatisfactory leader. Australia's narrow defeat was every bit as devastating as England's humiliating loss. Even now, the memories of both must cause the minds of many to darken. For Australians, 2005 upset the natural order. To restore that order, no simple retaliation would suffice. Nothing short of an annihilation would begin to sooth the wounds. And in being thumped five nil, England did not only lose the Ashes - it lost a little of 2005. As Gideon Haigh rightly pointed out, while England can forever claim the Edgbaston Test, Adelaide 2006 belongs to Australia.

English aspirations (to the status of an equal and the title of number one Test nation) were revealed as mere pretensions. After its 2007 triumph, another Australian win would further reduce 2005 to a vivid but regrettable stain on Australia's otherwise unblemished recent Ashes record. An English victory would not only silence Australian talk of an 'aberration', but elevate England into a frontier unconquered by Ponting's men.

For the time being at least, the current series has the air of a decider, of a final set following a first set tie break and a second set bagel. Its significance has been inflated by its remarkable predecessors. Perhaps it will help to settle the score of which of the two was the greater victory. And while some of the principle players have gone from the scene, both captains will fight bitterly for the last word.

From Benjamin Matthews, United Kingdom

	Australia had no answer to Andrew Flintoff's fiery spell © Getty Images

The retirement of Andrew Flintoff (MBE) after the current Ashes series is sure to ignite varying forms of debate over the next few weeks. Matters of opinion from the media pack may criticise the allrounder for the timing of his announcement, while other voices will no doubt pen glowing tributes to the talismanic Lancastrian. Flintoff will continue to make himself available for England's future ODI and Twenty20 squads. The carrot of future IPL contracts looming large may cast doubts for some over the motives behind his decision to leave the longer format of the game, but none can debate the match-winning contributions he has made for the English team over the years.

Charismatic, inspiring, down-to-earth are all compliments that spring to mind for a man whose appeal transcends class and cricketing opinion. Minor antics off the pitch have at times marred an underlying focus and dedication to the game that some have occasionally overlooked. Relentless pace and a fiery all-or-nothing attitude have been drawn from honing high levels of fitness which were doubted at the beginning of his career; many focussing on his heavy set frame. Such a build, whilst undoubtedly a major asset to his stinging bowling and power hitting, has also unfortunately been to his detriment.

The reoccurring knee injury sustained while playing in the IPL flared up again after this series' first Test and after multiple ankle surgeries, Flintoff has decided to call it a day. The relentless rigours of the five-day game have proven to be too much for his body to cope with, Flintoff having missed 25 of England's previous 48 Tests. Flintoff took his bow into international Test match cricket in 1998 against a strong touring South African side. Unfortunately the prized wicket of Jacques Kallis was his only real reward of note in that series and subsequently, his county form suffered.

There were always glimpses of his destructive capabilities during this uncertain period, most notably an explosive 135 from 111 balls in the quarter-finals of the Natwest Trophy in 2000. "We have just watched one of the most awesome innings we are ever going to see on a cricket field" gushed David Gower. A Man-of-the-Match 42 not out in a ODI against Zimbabwe followed, causing Flintoff to enthuse: "not bad for a fat lad!" High praise and high jinx indeed, but it wasn't until the England management packed him off to Rod Marsh's ECB academy in 2001 that he began to realise his huge potential.

That short, sharp, shock culminated in a reformed, more dynamic Flintoff who toured India that winter; proving his startling revelation as a tight, aggressive seam bowler. The relief of his coming of age was plain to see when he ripped off his shirt in celebration after the final ball of that tour, Flintoff having bowled an exceptional over to level the one day series. His Test career really started to take shape on the 2002 tour to New Zealand, where in Christchurch on his 13th Test appearance, Flintoff scored his first international century. 137 from 163 deliveries signified a concentration and temperament well suited to Test cricket.

By 2003, he had become a consistent performer in the Test arena. A magnificent 142 from 146 balls against South Africa, followed three Tests later by a match-swinging 95 to help England save the series cemented his position as an integral part of the English Test batting unit. An ability to force such a momentum change was testament to the fact he had become a player who could not just change the face of a one-dayer, but a player who could change the face of the modern English game forever.

Despite having become England's most consistent Test bowler by this stage, 5 for 58 versus the West Indies in Barbados 2004 (including the wickets of Brian Lara, Ridley Jacobs and Shivnarine Chanderpaul) was Flintoff's first major haul. He was named the Man of the Series later that year for his performances in the home white-wash of the same touring opponents. Again, the indications of his leading influence with both the bat and ball - 603 runs and 24 wickets - were being displayed and were acting simply as precursors for yet even greater things still to come.

2005 was his annus mirabilis largely due to his performances in the triumphant Ashes series of that year. It was the series in which he left an indelible mark on Test cricket not only for his contribution towards the series win, but for his contribution to the playing of the game: hard, but always fair. The iconic portrait of Flintoff consoling Brett Lee after victory at Edgbaston is a gesture of sportsmanship synonymous with the all-rounder, as well as an image etched into the consciousness of all cricket fans forever more. Being named ICC Cricketer of the Year was his reward for averages of 40.20 with the bat and 27.29 with the ball. His 402 runs and 24 wickets won Flintoff the Compton-Miller medal and inspire some to call it 'Fred's Ashes'.

Memories of that series will linger forever in the mind of the man who inspired England to victory in that series, as they will in the minds of a cricketing nation whose love affair with the shorter modes of the game are somewhat supplanting their affections for the truest form of the game. So Freddie 2009 - one last hurrah? Reignite those final embers and bring that urn home.