He is a West Indian paradox, deliberately occupying the crease at length and for whom, in the first innings with the ball moving about, the prospect of hitting a six seemed about as likely as playing snooker with a piece of rope. He would never make it into McCullum’s England side under the Bazball creed. Bazball wants dashers and dancers, batters committed to attack and encouraged to free themselves of the pressures of criticism from fans, media and selectors. Failure is forgiven by the team principals.
England earned themselves renewed accusations of arrogance with their spectacular two-day implosion and lack of contrition in the first Ashes test and the likely scenario they will do so again in the day-night, pink ball test underway in Brisbane and in which England have an appalling record against Australia.
McCullum is fond of saying that Bazball (he dislikes the term apparently) stemmed from his inherent distaste for cricket talent being stifled – by coaches, media, public expectations and cricket traditions and politics. He hasn’t trotted that one out again after the horrors of Perth but has said the team’s “blueprint” will not change – meaning talent is given free rein to attack, putting opponents under pressure.
At this point, I have to say I like Bazball, but you can see it often looks a bit sick against strong sides like India and Australia and world-class bowlers like Mitchell Starc. The Aussies think it’s a huge joke. They say they’ve been doing Bazball for years; they just haven’t put a fancy label on it and pretend they have re-invented test cricket.
Bazball’s most ardent critics say it is more like a cult than a cricket team; an inherent philosophy that allows failed batters to retire to the pavilion, put a towel over their heads, chant “Om” 455 times before emerging as a reborn batter able to ignore everybody and everything, even common sense.
It’s been good for test cricket, enlivening what can be a dull game and bringing a sense of adventure and entertainment. McCullum has numbers on his side: one test victory in the last 17 before he took over; 25 wins out of 42 (with only 2 draws) since – though the stats don’t withstand deeper scrutiny when the likes of India and Australia are involved.
Extremists and extremism often move the needle of conservatism, bringing change in many walks of life but that always involves compromise over bull-headed insistence. Surely Bazball is a tactic, not a strategy, used against selected opponents when pitch and conditions are right; a game plan, not blind faith. You need glue as well as goers; a Boycott for every basher.
Shivnarine Chanderpaul is a good example. His test career ended with just under 12,000 runs, gained by being a rock when other West Indian batters of the time were more interested in run rate. McCullum can point to Joe Root – the second most prolific of all time and whose overall average of 50.94 has swelled to 59.06 under McCullum (though his issues in Australia continue).
Root, however, was highly successful before Bazball – which brings us back to Tagenarine Chanderpaul. His was a stubborn innings against New Zealand; ultimately unsuccessful but exactly what his team needed – a limpet defending his wicket rather than adhering to a mantra and selling his wicket cheaply. Brave obstinacy will always be celebrated, just as much as brave Bazballers playing their natural game in the face of the odds.
If the limpet gets out, he is a victim of the bowlers and maybe the pitch; if a Bazballer perishes by attacking good bowling, he is – on the evidence of the first Ashes test – a victim of self, a casualty of the collective, and thus open to plenty of criticism.
This and the third Ashes test at Adelaide loom as an acid test for Bazball. I hope it survives; it’s good for the game – but it needs re-modelling and removal of its almost religious doctrines.