Australia's Under-19 marvel

Some of Australia's Under-19 players have already been blooded in the Sheffield Shield © Getty Images

Having watched youngsters playing cricket in just about every part of the cricketing world, it still astounds me that countries like Australia make it to the final of the Under-19 World Cup. That is not to decry the talents of the Australian U-19 team – that is unquestioned with the likes of Mitchell Marsh, Josh Hazlewood and Alister McDermott already having tasted the hard world of senior men’s cricket. I still don’t understand how the non-Asian nations manage to bridge the massive gulf of talent that seems to be so apparent at about age 15 but obviously closes rapidly by the time they reach U-19 level.

Having spent a lot of time watching and coaching kids in England and Australia, it is clear that in general terms (not looking at elite squads), there is a significant difference in technique, patience and passion for the game between those countries and India, Pakistan or Sri Lanka for that matter. An average 13 to 15-year-old kid playing school or club cricket in Brisbane is not even close to the ability level of a random kid playing on a maidan in Mumbai, a laneway in Colombo or on a cobbled street in a Karachi bazaar. The Asian lads seem to have infinitely more sophisticated techniques, more patience and an appreciation of the finer arts of the game.

I recall walking through the park that borders the Bombay Gymkhana and watching in amazement at the numerous cricket matches being played in perfect synchronicity with each other, each game independent of another but still played in perfect harmony, rarely getting in the way of the adjoining match, despite sharing common ground. Young boys waited patiently to bat for hours on end, scoring, clapping, cheering and being totally absorbed in every single ball that was bowled.

One young chap, clearly no more than 12, was bowling offspin with an uncanny Saqlain Mushtaq action and as I walked by, he produced a beautiful doosra that clipped off stump. It was obviously no accident because the wicketkeeper moved to cover that very delivery. Hardly believing my eyes, I went up to him and quizzed him about that ball and he showed me how he delivered the killer blow. Still incredulous, I asked him to repeat the same delivery next ball. Lo and behold; another perfectly pitched doosra, a little nick to first slip and ‘Little Saqlain’s’ on a hat trick! No longer prepared to doubt my own eyes, I stayed for two hours in the stifling heat on an April morning and watched more marvels unfold in front of my eyes. I was with some other Australian cricketers at the time, including James Hopes, and we all agreed that this sort of skill level was unparalleled among boys of similar age back home.

I compare that to my son’s junior cricket in Brisbane and it’s a world apart. Their techniques are rudimentary, most of them are flat out bowling over-arm (let alone bowling doosras) and they have little interest in watching the game unfold, preferring instead to climb trees or play on the swings when they’re not batting themselves. They appeal for anything and don’t even understand the difference between leg-byes and wides. At this age, a World Cup would be annihilation for youngsters from Australia, England or New Zealand, I dare say.

People in Australia think I’m on drugs when I recount stories of three-day games at school level. The famous Royal Thomian encounter, now in its 121st year in Colombo, is almost played along first-class timelines. Many first XI games in Brisbane are played over just one afternoon, certainly never more than one day in the private schools.

Yet, something happens in that crucial period between say 16-19 years of age when the other countries catch up to the subcontinent. It’s inexplicable. The only reason I can attribute it to is that perhaps the cream of Australian talent (perhaps 25 boys) get identified and are nurtured to a level that sees them compete with say India’s first XI for that age. In terms of depth, I don’t think Australia stand a chance. Hypothetically, if you had to pick a seventh XI from both countries, I reckon the Indian boys would win handsomely. But, in that select few that play for their country at U-19 level, the gap is almost negligible. It’s quite amazing really.

Clearly something else happens at grade cricket and first-class level that elevates Australia to a superior position. Perhaps it is physical strength or the battle-hardened psyche that comes with playing a brand of cricket that simply spits out the weak and timid players. That is another debate, best left for another blog piece.

New Zealand are an even more amazing case in point – with such a small population, steeped in rugby fever and with variable cricketing weather, their performance on a man for man basis is testament to their incredible sporting talent. I’ve watched a bit of cricket in South Africa but do not profess to understand their system enough to offer any sensible commentary as to how they seed their next generation of players. Is cricket a game for the common man in the Rainbow Nation or is it still a rich man’s sport, leaving football for the talent-rich masses in the townships?

I’d be terribly interested in reading your viewpoints on this essay from whatever global perspective. Is it that the Australians catch up in those last few years before an U-19 World Cup or that the Asian nations slow down? Does it matter greatly that this tournament is in New Zealand where the pitches may favour the Australians a bit more? Would the Aussies have been a decent-money bet to have still made the final if it was played in India or Pakistan? Subscribing to that theory, Pakistan must surely have been at long odds to make the final in New Zealand then.

One thing is for sure – you’d get better odds on Pakistan U-19 winning in New Zealand than the senior team winning in Perth this weekend. Umar Gul’s performance in the field, even before his awful finishing burst on Tuesday in Adelaide, hinted at something that was seriously amiss. But that’s another story.