The one-day series against West Indies is almost upon us, but England, as usual, seem to have about as much clue how to approach the 50-over game as you or I. This week, the panel attempt to do Andrew Strauss’s job for him – and then show their working.

John Stern

Editor of The Wisden Cricketer

Picking this side is like an episode of Silent Witness: ­ the evidence is either flimsy or unintelligible. At no point in the last decade (or beyond) have England had a dedicated focus on the one-day game, which is a legacy of our national preference for Test cricket (and related snobbery about ODIs) and the sheer volume of cricket played at domestic level that leads counties to prioritise competitions. Most focus on the four-day game and only one or two, like Gloucestershire in the past, major in one-dayers.

Strauss just isn’t in the best one-day XI, however much one might wish it to be so and I’ve not gone for Shah, despite his many innovative qualities. His fielding is poor and so is his running between the wickets.

Bell
Bopara
Prior (wk)
Pietersen
Flintoff
Collingwood (c)
Broad
Mascarenhas
Swann
Harmison
Anderson

Edward Craig

Deputy editor of The Wisden Cricketer

I am going to ignore my inclination to pick my best Test side and expect them to be a world-beating one-day side because a) it just doesn’t happen like that, I have to admit it, and b) good Test cricketers just don’t necessarily make good one-day players – fact. A fact I don’t like, have never liked, but fact.

So I’d start from scratch – ignore the Test team and get on with selection. In batting order:

Rob Key (c)
Ian Bell
Kevin Pietersen
Ravi Bopara
Paul Collingwood
Samit Patel
Matt Prior (wk)
Andrew Flintoff
Stuart Broad
Graeme Swann
James Anderson

Erm, not that different from the Test side then – and Shah is unfortunate. I think Bell is a good one-day opener with the right, aggressive partner. Key can do that. And I rated Patel’s all-round usefulness – perhaps Dimi could do this bus-driver role equally well.

Daniel Brigham

Assistant editor of The Wisden Cricketer

The last time England were good at 50-over cricket, John Major was prime minister. Now they play like Major led the country: no flair, no presence, plenty of bad decisions, easy to mock and constantly expecting a beating.

A player and a competition highlight what’s wrong with England’s one-day thinking: Ali Brown and the Pro40. Brown was, until the last couple of seasons, the most consistently brilliant one-day English batsman for a decade and yet he played just 16 ODIs while Atherton and Hussain, with three centuries from 142 ODIs between them, were deemed better one-day players. Even Ronnie Irani was picked to bat at four. Then there’s the Pro40, a maligned competition that fans and players enjoy but 10 overs short of replicating ODIs. What was the point of it?

The opening pair need to be able to hit over the top and score rapidly, so in come Rob Key and Vikram Solanki, two of the most overlooked batsmen of their generation. The middle-order of KP, Bopara, Shah and Collingwood is destructive, inventive and full of match-winners. Foster is the keeper because he has the best hands in the country – more important in ODIs than Tests, when the margins are smaller. The attack of Flintoff, Anderson, Broad and Swann has pace, guile and penetration.

Key (c)
Solanki
Pietersen
Bopara
Shah
Collingwood
Flintoff
Foster (wk)
Broad
Swann
Anderson

Benj Moorehead

Editorial assistant of The Wisden Cricketer

Strauss is currently in the team for the sake of avoiding split captaincy, but it seems it’s a case of hiding him in the batting order – which is embarrassing. Drop him for Key, an astute tactician whose talent is deserving of a place. Prior opening (don’t let him keep!) may not have worked before but he could be lethal against the new ball. Bopara can launch an all-out attack or play with canny pragmatism (both of which he is capable depending on the situation) in the middle-order.

A lack of a second spinner is a concern, so Patel and Panesar are kept very much in mind. As is Mark Ramprakash. He may expire under pressure in Tests but the one-dayers may be the right platform for a veteran who is still very fit, still scoring lots of runs in domestic one-day cricket, and still (of course) very, very talented. Still, wasn’t brave enough to pick him, though, was I …

Key (c)
Prior
Shah
Pietersen
Collingwood
Bopara
Flintoff
Davies (wk)
Broad
Swann
Anderson

Richard Hobson

Deputy cricket correspondent of The Times

I have no problem with split captains, and certainly none with Kevin Pietersen taking charge. Two fresh, aggressive batsmen can build an opening partnership, with my experience in the side underpinning the middle order at five and six. Mascarenhas could become a really handy player with a bit of backing and the presence of Flintoff as a genuine all-rounder creates the space for somebody who chips in.

Denly
Davies (wk)
Pietersen (cap)
Shah
Flintoff
Collingwood
Bopara
Mascarenhas
Broad
Swann
Anderson

King Cricket

Blogging supremo

Miraculously, we still think the same as we did in August:

Mustard (wk)
Flintoff
Bell
Pietersen
Bopara
Shah
Collingwood
Mascarenhas
Swann
Broad
Anderson

Phil Mustard is the one man who’s opened the batting for England who fundamentally gets the role. He plays some shots and doesn’t much care about the consequences. He doesn’t adopt this attitude, he just has it. It’s a crucial difference.

Flintoff partners him because you need two shot-makers opening and if you can get a decent-length innings out of Flintoff, he can’t help but score runs. Flintoff was one of about a million experimental England openers, but he plays with a straight bat and he’s in the best XI, so we’d give him a longer shot.

Why not try and get the best out of England yourself, below?

Less than a year ago, in a rare interview with Duncan Fletcher for The Guardian and with the Indian Premier League in full swing, I asked whether he thought twenty20 cricket was proper cricket. “All cricket is proper cricket,” he replied. “At the end of the day, cricket is such a complicated game. You’ve still got to do certain basics: you just can’t go in there and play across the line. You might have a couple of innings where it looks good, but for a consistent performer you need the basic requirements.”

It’s not a sexy message, but it’s one England need to bear in mind if they are going to get anywhere on the slow, low pitches of the Caribbean in the five-match one-day series that starts in Guyana on Friday. And it’s all the more urgent after their performance in another twenty20 debacle in Trinidad at the weekend, when both Ravi Bopara and the debutant opener Steve Davies got carried away with moving around the crease and, predictably perhaps, were bowled.

The not-very-funny thing is, England did exactly the same thing during the Stanford money game in November, before Chris Gayle and Andre Fletcher stood tall and uncomplicatedly biffed the Superstars to a 10-wicket win. The message, maybe because it’s not very sexy, is not sinking in.

Then again, why should it? English batsmen have always been uncomfortable with improvisation. Andrew Strauss is on record as suggesting that youngsters in this country are over-coached: get them to cock their left elbow and they’re world-beaters; ask them to undo years of well-meant conditioning and, as the saying goes, think on their feet, and they get confused. It’s no coincidence that the bloke who plays the switch-hits learned his cricket abroad.

The upshot, as we saw in Antigua last year and Trinidad on Sunday, is that England over-compensate. The effect is akin to an uncle at a disco, desperate to fit in but doomed in advance by the cardigan. Nasser Hussain made the point well a few days ago: if you’re going to move around the crease, don’t expose all three stumps – one will do.

That, and remember Fletcher’s basics. England’s most tedious failing in one-day cricket since their most recent heyday in 1992 has been to get bogged down on lifeless pitches against mediocre spinners and medium-pacers. The scenario has exposed their rigidity time and again. Now is the time for some kind of acceptable medium. Yes, the cardigan has to go. But, please, no strip-tease.

Lawrence Booth writes on cricket for The Guardian. His third book, Cricket, Lovely Cricket? An Addict’s Guide to the World’s Most Exasperating Game is out now published by Yellow Jersey

I have been surprised by praise heaped upon Andrew Strauss as a result of him presiding over a series that was both moderately disastrous and phenomenally dull.

Yes, he’s scored a bucket-load of runs but he’s also inherited that peculiarly English knack of not knowing when to declare. Some, like David Gower and Andrew Flintoff, thought they had enough runs on the board and found themselves crushed. Mike Atherton managed to put Graeme Hick into a sulk from which he never really recovered.

Strauss’s apparent ruthlessness when it comes to making tough selection decisions has surprised many, especially those who base their opinion on his performances at press conferences. If you happen to speak with a voice that sounds both posh and friendly, then people often assume that you will be a walkover. The reality is that, rightly or wrongly, people who sound exactly like that have led most of our invading forces over the last 200 years.

What Strauss is being applauded for, it seems, is his avoidance of being utterly awful. I don’t know anything about being a good captain. My own captaincy record is played four, won three, drawn one – but these are misleading statistics. On each victorious occasion somebody played a big innings and then somebody else took a bundle of wickets. Other team members were never short on advice, solicited or otherwise, so I don’t recall having to think a great deal.

I wasn’t even particularly disciplined. On one occasion I arrived late for a game to discover that I was only the third member of our team who had turned up at all. The other two had opened the batting and defended furiously for half an hour while stealing nervous looks in the direction of the boundary waiting for back up before they could play a few shots.

On another occasion I won the toss and elected to bowl first and then halfway to the boundary remembered we’d all agreed that we should bat first. I simply told the rest of the team that I’d lost the toss and that we’d been asked to field.

So I’m definitely not qualified to know what makes a great captain. But in a series from which we have learnt and taken almost nothing, that Straussy is not an awful captain is perhaps news worth celebrating.

Miles Jupp is an actor, comedian and cricket fan

Not needed for the limited overs stuff (after I dropped that round of drinks in my last ODI outing) so back home to Luton for a bit of rest and more practice with Mushy.

To be fair, there were a few problems at the airport, but there’s lots of positives to take from the situation.

At check-in, Mushy asked about special dietary requirements. They showed him the options and he had a bit of a think (always thinking, Mushy) and asked for a vegetarian meal, a vegan meal, a halal meal, a gluten-free meal and some Lucozade. He said he wasn’t too fussed for the salmon but if they had a spare one he’d see what he could do. I’m in awe at his variety: I just asked for a packet of peanuts.

The check-in woman asked us if we had anything flammable or dodgy or whatnot in our bags.

“I just want to bring this live chicken as my carry-on, thanks,” I said.

“But Mr Panesar,” said the woman. “You cannot possibly do that. The rules are surely perfectly clear, are they not?”

“AIIIIEEEEEEEEEHOWZAAAATCHICKEN?” I shouted, in an enthusiastic yet charming manner.

“No, no, Mr Panesar” said the woman. “Look again at the laminated card. Can you see the picture of the chicken with a big red cross through it, under the column marked ‘things not allowed on plane’?”

“Rubbish. That chicken is clearly in line with the column saying ‘allowed on plane’,” I said.

“Please, Mr Panes—”

“ARRGGGGHGGHGHGHGCHICKEN,” I argued, persuasively.

“No,” said the woman. “No chicken.”

“I want that looked at again,” I said.

“Alright,” said the woman. “Here’s another card. Do you see the picture of the chicken with a big red cross through it, under the column marked ‘things not allowed on plane’?”

She was right, believe it or not. It just goes to prove how deceptive technology can be. Still, it’s not flawless: I was sure my ticket was for first class but when I got on the plane I was in seat 98F economy, wedged in between a woman with a sick child and Phil ‘The Power’ Taylor on his way back from a bargain break.

It’s like that check-in woman’s got it in for me or something.

Alan Tyers knows a member of the cabin crew

After England’s series in the West Indies was beset by umpire review flash points, the panel looks at how the system went awry and whether it’s worth continuing with. Lawrence Booth has already pointed out that teams aren’t using it in the right way but is there a problem with the concept as a whole?

Read the rest of this entry »

England were denied in Trinidad for plenty of reasons, but the most galling was their failure to grasp the umpire review system. Plenty of people have sniffed their irritation with it over the past few weeks, accusing it of slowing the game down and – that hoariest of romantic gripes – detracting from the authority of the on-field umpire (Russell Tiffin? Daryl Harper? Authority?). Yet if the players keep misapplying the system by gambling with it, they will have to keep their grumbles to themselves.

There is a case for arguing that England blew their best chance of victory when they referred an appeal for leg-before on the second evening after Jimmy Anderson struck the pads of Devon Smith. The not-out decision was correctly upheld – the ball had pitched some way outside leg-stump – which meant that when Graeme Swann’s shout for lbw against Chris Gayle moments later was also referred and also turned down, England had used up both lives with the bulk of the innings still to come.

This folly was exposed on the third day, when Monty Panesar had Brendan Nash so plumb in front that the only reason Tiffin could have said no was because he blinked at the crucial moment. (If he really turned Monty down to punish him for excessive appealing, he deserves to be fined too.) Had England saved a review, Nash would almost certainly have been on his way for 24. Instead he made 109. In a tight game, the difference hardly needs spelling out.

The point here is that England – and West Indies for that matter – haven’t worked out what the review system is about. It was not intended for borderline leg-before decisions. It was intended to get rid of the howlers. Yet England chose to gamble instead.

Anderson was bowling over-the-wicket to a left-handed batsman, a scenario in which lbws are only plumb if the ball is pitched right up. And, last night, Panesar wasted England’s second second-innings review when Gayle padded up well outside the line of off-stump. According to the current rubric, that is precisely the kind of decision which is not going to be over-ruled by the TV umpire – especially as the umpires, crazily, don’t have access to the predictive element of Hawkeye. Yet Andrew Strauss did not have the presence of mind to dissuade Panesar, who is not the most objective judge at the best of times.

West Indies were no better. They wasted umpire reviews in their second innings on leg-before decisions after batsmen had been rightly given out, and paid the price when Ryan Hinds was triggered after apparently missing the ball, by which time they had no lives left.

This system was brought in to avoid a repetition of Andrew Symonds’ nick off Ishant Sharma at Sydney prior to a series-winning hundred. It was not intended to over-rule questionable lbw shouts. The sooner England realise this, the more chance they’ll have of keeping Australia at bay this summer.

I said to Straussy: “I need to know where I stand.” He said: “Down at long leg, moaning.” I told him that wasn’t what I meant.

I said: “I want to clear the air. I want to go out for dinner, and not somewhere rubbish either, somewhere nice with a tablecloth and a little flower in the middle of the table and that. I’ll be wanting a starter too.”

Straussy sighed and got that look on his face he used to get when he saw Shane Warne was about to bowl or when that Robert Peston bloke comes on the BBC World talking about credit crunches.

“All right,” he said. “We’ll go for dinner.”

“And I want one of them blokes what’s got a violin wandering around the table and you have to make him play a song for us,” I said.

“No, Steve,” he said. “No violin.”

“Rose for the lady?” I said.

“For Christ’s sake, Steve. No. Look. You can have Black Forest Gateau,” he said.

“For starter?” I asked.

“Yes, if you want.”

“All right then,” I said.

We went to the restaurant.

“Ah, welcome, welcome,” said the waiter. “Mr Strauss! And Mr Harmison! The Destroyer. Welcome.”

“Table for two please, Antonio,” says Straussy.

“In the courtyard near the water feature if possible,” I said.

“Give me strength,” muttered Straussy.

“It’s all right,” I said. “I’ve got a wrap. I’ll not be chilly.”

We went outside. I had a thought.

“I’m sorry again for breaking all them plates last time, Antonio,” I said.

“Not at all, Mr Harmison. The pleasure was all ours. How could you have known that we do not share with Greece that charming custom?”

“Freddie told us to do it, see,” I said.

“Ha ha, Mr Freddie,” said Antonio. “He does so enjoy his penne alla vodka.”

“You know, it’s a funny thing,” said Straussy. “I didn’t know it was traditionally served in a bucket.”

“Erm… yes,” said Antonio. “That is the Calabrian style. And of course, our house speciality – we leave out the penne.”

“Them plates,” I said. “I was aiming for the fireplace.”

“It was entirely understandable that you hit the wine waiter,” said Antonio. “The important thing is that you are trying.”

“You can’t fault my effort,” I agreed. “I tried my nuts off.”

We ate the meal. I didn’t think much of the Black Forest Gateau I had for starter, but the one for main course was really good. They brought the sweet trolley round. I know how it feels.

“So where do I stand, Straussy? I said.

“You have to be better at bowling and get fit,” he said.

“Oh,” I said. “Antonio! Another Black Forest over here if you will.”

“And for you, Mr Strauss?” said Antonio.

“You know what, Antonio?” said Straussy. “I think I am going to try something new.”

Alan Tyers plays a mean violin

In the past, whenever we watched Ramnaresh Sarwan bat, he always seemed to underperform. It happened so frequently that the line between underperformance and ‘being crap’ became blurred.

Yet every time we looked away he must have scored runs because he’s averaged 40 for almost his entire career, even back when that was a bit more meaningful. To continually average 40 without actually scoring any runs is a neat statistical trick that England’s batsmen have perfected, but as we all know, it’s not actually all that useful when you’re trying to win cricket matches.

In fact, averaging over 40 is inextricably entwined with failure these days. The only time you ever hear that a batsman’s average is over 40 is when they’ve had yet another failure and need to justify their worth. Ramnaresh Sarwan no longer needs to cite his average. We all know how good a batsman he is because nobody can remember a moment during this series when he wasn’t at the crease.

If it weren’t for time constraints, you feel he could make that average into whatever he wanted to. As for underperformance, his innings of 94 in the third Test could be considered such by his current standards.

See King Cricket’s regular blog at www.kingcricket.co.uk. King Cricket is a cult figure in the world of cricket blogs and was TWC’s first Best-of-blogs winner in April 2008.

I must say that there’s never a dull moment as captain. I’ll start the day off having a word with the bowlers, giving poor Ryan his bath, helping him into a chair, that sort of thing. Building up Harmison’s confidence is also key: I’ll usually pop into his room and hide his electric razor first thing. I think a bit of threatening stubble could help him feel a bit more dangerous.

It’s hard to tell what sort of mood he’s going to be in on any given day. He was very down this morning because Flintoff had to go off for a scan or a meeting with his accountant or something and Harmison wouldn’t see him until the afternoon. He just sat listening to Catherine Cookson audiobooks on his iPod during breakfast, pushing his jam sandwich around the plate, in a world of his own. Still, we all know what he can do with the ball when it all clicks into place. At least as far as I can remember. But he brings a lot to the team: he’s a popular figure, he’s got all three of the Bourne films on DVD, he knows some footballers. These sort of things are important to the fellows.

Everyone has been terribly supportive since I took over, particularly Andy Flower. I sounded him out about the top coaching job and he said: “Please don’t make me do it I beg you.” Marvellous sense of humour, and if we can get him a passport, he could very much be the answer to our middle-order difficulties. As could Reg the security chap.

One chap I can definitely rely on is young Alastair Cook, although I do worry that he might be taking his unofficial vice captaincy role too seriously. He’d drawn up a rota for washing-up and stuck it at the back of the dressing room near the kettle, and he’s taken to labelling things “ALASTAIR’S MILK DO NOT TOUCH” and leaving post-it notes around the place telling the other fellows to tidy up their kit.

Still, he’s been very helpful getting the team ready for this Test. If we can all get through it without someone breaking their leg or having a baby or forgetting how to play cricket there’s every reason to think that we can get a result.

Andrew Strauss wasn’t talking to that loveable rogue Alan Tyers

I knew that the third Test at the Antigua Recreation Ground was going to go down to the wire. But I was looking forward to it. Like our match at Barbados in 1994, I thought a resounding victory would enable us to wash away the filthy memories of our previous humiliating encounter, and that, like Travis Bickle in Taxi Driver, we’d be able to thank God for the rain to wash the trash off the sidewalk.

Any time that England are searching for victory at the 11th hour is going to be nerve-wracking but for me that final day was doubly tortuous. It clashed with a booking I had to do an after-dinner speech in a hotel in Southampton and which I had long been dreading.

I phoned ahead to make sure that the hotel rooms had Sky and then booked in early enough to watch most of the afternoon session. England, and Broad especially, bowled beautifully, but we didn’t seem to be making enough headway. And at tea, with the score on 279 for 5 I had to go down for the dinner.

The most hellish aspect of after-dinner speaking is having to sit and have dinner with the people to whom you are about to speak. It’s not because there’s anything wrong with them, it’s simply that you have to spend the entire meal giving an impression of confidence and experience while looking in abject terror around a room of increasing and unilateral drunkenness wondering just how badly it will go. The people you are sitting at the top table with aren’t just your dining companions, they are also your employers for the night, and this means that on the outside you must appear to be polite, attentive and charming while on the inside nerves are tearing your organs apart, and you long to curl up in a ball under the table pounding the floor with your fists and praying that someone will phone in a bomb scare.

That night I had to conceal all of these feelings while also hurriedly checking the England score on my mobile every five minutes. The meal dragged on in much the same way as the final session. At times the scorecard didn’t seem to change for hours. When the puddings finally arrived, West Indies were nine down. Surely, I thought, they can wrap this up before I have to speak. Maybe I could open my speech by telling the room that England had won? Moments before I was due to stand up I was able to steal a final look at my phone and saw the horrifying words “match drawn”. The evening was over.

The speech, inevitably, was a disaster – those at the back couldn’t hear it and those at the front wished they were at the back. Early next morning I walked through the rain to the train station cursing England’s lack of penetration and feeling about Southampton much as Travis Bickle had about Manhattan.

Miles Jupp is an actor, comedian and cricket fan