DOING IT BY INSTINCT

Theories abound as to why Test cricket is losing its universal appeal. Perhaps a lot of it boils down to one word: instinct.

Over the past 15 years, Australia has cracked the formula for winning Test matches. A handful of some of the greatest players in history has been a fair starting point. But the renaissance got underway before the arrival of Warne, McGrath, Gilchrist, Ponting and co.

It started back in 1986 with the appointment of Bob Simpson as coach of an Australian team which had reached its lowest ebb. Simmo brought with him a back-to-the-basics, disciplined approach to the game, where fielding become as important a facet as the two obvious principles of batting and bowling. It was the emergence of the professional era in cricket, in terms of preparation as well as the gradually evolving financial rewards.

Under Simmo, followed by Geoff Marsh and then John Buchanan, Australia took the game to new heights by giving due attention to every aspect of the game. This was formulated cricket -- the formula for success. From the early 1990s, the wins came thick and fast, and it seemed everyone was happy.

Conformity was part of the deal. Some personalities were casualties along the way and, occasionally, conflicts arose. Shane Warne, for one, made no secret of his disregard for the studious Buchanan.

Conformity, too, in the form of technique became the Australian way. And that is the crux of this blog.

Ricky Ponting circa 2009 is a far different player than the 20-year-old who made 96 on debut against Sri Lanka in Perth back in 1995. The one speed flair of the youngster has been replaced by a man who is blessed with the ability to adapt his game to the situation at hand.

Michael Clarke is another whose technique has undergone a transformation since he scored 151 in his first match for Australia against India in Bangalore. Again, he made his mark with aggression, as noted by Peter Roebuck in the Sydney Morning Herald.

"Not that the assault was reckless," he added. "Indeed the control was impressive. Clarke calculated the risks and took his brains with him down the track. Of course he need [sic] a bit of luck, was plumb in front in the nineties, but few begrudged him his hundred."

Neither Ponting or Clarke lasted initially. They were reinvented as batsmen with tightened defence and flair to be displayed only on occasions.

The latest casualty is Phillip Hughes, touted as Australia's next great hope after his frolicking times in South Africa to kick-start his Test career. Alas, 3 Tests later he was out of the side after being exposed for his weakness with short-pitched bowling. Now, Hughes is struggling to understand it all. He's a confused young man, betwixt and between.

His greatest strength was his instinct. He was a breath of fresh air. He looked ungainly at times, he was cheeky. But he was doing it his way.

This, however, is at odds with the Australian way, and what has become the way throughout international cricket. The game has become formulated.

The great irony about all of this is that the sole century-maker from last week's First Test in Brisbane was a teenager from the West Indies, where formulated cricket has never been much chop.

Adrian Barath didn't go to a cricket academy. He learnt his cricket in shanty-like nets on a concrete pitch on the outskirts of Port of Spain in Trinidad. Tall guys with long limbs bowled to him, and he hit the ball. His way. By instinct.

Barath's technique is not out of a text book. Will he be given free reign to do it his way, or will he be forced to conform?

Former West Indies great Brain Lara recently made an interesting observation.

"Australia makes ordinary players into great players. The West Indies makes great players into ordinary players," were the sentiments of Lara.

It's all about the system. On that basis, you can't argue with the system, which produces the winning results. But it also produces robots, where instinct doesn't count.