That Aussie Culture
Mon, Jan 22, '07
"Trust me," said Richie Benaud, "it looks more like 150."It wasn't a wild prediction from the former Australia captain. England were tottering at five for 72 in the 20th over. They'd started off strongly with a lovely knock from openers Andrew Strauss and newcomer Mal Loye that had brought up 50 in 61 balls. Loye was impressive, knocking Glenn McGrath to various boundaries and beyond before losing his wicket on 36 and heralding the collapse.
Wickets then fell cheaply, and once, bizarrely, when Ian Bell was run out by a Cameron White return rolling merrily into his stumps as he stood there gawking. White himself looked a little surprised that the ball he'd back-handed had skimmed along the ground and taken the bails off.
Just as England had reason to be pleased with Loye's debut (you really had to enjoy that sweeping six off McGrath) so did Australia with their choice of Brad Hodge, whose spectacular catch sent Strauss off right after Loye. Like a Jontry Rhodes clone, Hodge stretched himself out as straight as a park bench with one arm fully extended, to stop Strauss dead in his tracks. You could almost hear the bell tolling then.
Australian fielders – Andrew Symonds, Michael Clarke, lethally poised – all man-jack, careening after every ball, dropping, sliding, returning, without respite. Alert, agile, energetic, focused, it was a familiar sight.
Therein lay the tone of Benaud's prophecy, the knowledge that once the slide had started for England, there would be no return because the pressure would never relent. The English got to 155.
But even if on paper the Australians were less likely to get to 150 when they were wobbling on four for 48, it never seemed that reality would be written on that sheet. Instead, at 156 for six, the Aussies did it again.
Here they were, missing three of their newly retired players, fronting a fairly large number of unfamiliar names, challenging the premise that the Australian reign was coming to an end after holding its zenith for a decade. True, the English had roughly the same mixture of old and new, but somehow the Australians managed to maintain that familiar gut-ripping quality of play that leaves them firmly entrenched at the top of the order.
So what is it in the Australian breeding formula that is being passed along so seamlessly? Sure, there isn't a Shane Warne, but Warne was of the one-of-a-kind brace; not many exist in one lifetime.
Australia has managed to refine its cricket into a culture, so that the tendrils that could be once identified as part of the rugged, relentless, ruthless character, have taken root and have been honed into the cultural force expressed in the game. I feel that training and investment has built upon innate traits, refining them through the application of science, technology and discipline, and the result is now a performance standard so high that even their rookies can more than hold their own on debut.
When they enter the arena, they do so with the imprint of their glory days as damp on their skin as sweat. It's fresh, a living legacy oozing out of their pores and it must steady the nerves to feel the weight of this power. Having once lived without it, the Australians have learned the value of this power, and have invested heavily in maintaining it.
They've devised programmes that are continually revised and upgraded; they've empowered players with proper contracts and retainers and percentages; and they've brought the whole thing down to a science. You might not like their attitude and approaches, that is another matter entirely, but you've got to admire the way they set out their goals, planned strategies and stuck to the course knowing it would take time because cultural shifts do not happen overnight.
Now it's the rest of the world paying the price for their investment.