Watson must adapt in the new Australian era..
Date August 5, 2013 - 8:45AM Malcolm Knox
Whatever has been said about Shane Watson as a Test match batsman, there has never been any doubting his quality as a one-day player. So when, in Australia's second innings at Old Trafford, a quasi one-day situation required a signature Watson innings, his demotion in the order signalled that something significant was taking place.
That Watson's replacement as opener was David Warner added to the impression of a political shift. All official protestations aside, Warner and Watson are rivals and antagonists. In each off-field drama this year, the pair have been involved, in the red and blue corners. Warner's brother's offensive tweet about Watson was patently a case of, if you want to know what a player thinks of you, ask his family. Eventually the question has to be asked whether the Australian team is a big enough place for both players.
Since Joe Root's chin lurched across the Birmingham Walkabout Bar in search of Warner's hand, Watson has had his way. He opened the batting, as he had requested. In team leadership, he could take as much or as little responsibility as he saw fit. On the field, he took the fight up to the English.
Meanwhile, Warner was sent off, like the wayward son, to the African colonies.
Watson had his chance. The beginning of this series was laid out for him, to see if giving him his head would bring a smile to his face. At Trent Bridge and Lord's, he had the best of the batting conditions but could not capitalise. Instead, his only grins have been the rueful kind. When Stuart Broad brought down hell and damnation in Nottingham, and when Kevin Pietersen held off the Australian charge in Manchester, Watson's face cracked and a grin came out, as if only gallows humour could make him happy.
No person can help the way they look, and Watson's lugubriousness what Mike Leigh called in his film Secrets and Lies a 'face like a slapped arse' may infer nothing about the spirit and personality within. But this is an Australian team making an effort, possibly too demonstrative to be believed, but an effort nonetheless, to be cheerful. They slap bums like a tom-tom band and gather to shake hands at the end of each day. They are trying to celebrate each other's success. If there were an Ashes of determined conviviality, they would be 3-0 up. By contrast, England have been going through the motions, a team that has been together a long time, their veterans riding out the last of their success, supplementing their skills with the auxiliary tools of time-wasting and gamesmanship. As it was for Australia in the mid-2000s, it is a classic hunter-versus-hunted situation. Australia have taken some years to get over their inherited super-confidence, but it is a sure thing that they have shed it and are fighting to improve.
Watson stands apart from this. When the boys gather for a pep talk, he's the last one to come out of the bathroom. When they celebrate a wicket, he's off fetching the ball for the umpires. Most of what is being said in those meetings may well be empty slogans, but a team player in this environment would at least pretend to be buying it. If Watson is enjoying himself on this tour, he's hiding it well. Warner's brother was categorically wrong in one respect: Watson is no pretender.
His misfortune was perhaps to come into the Australian team when the baggy green conferred magical powers. Arrogance was required. Matthew Hayden and Ricky Ponting so dominated the pitch that they were practically hitting the ball out of bowlers' hands. This encouraged a front-foot technique and a policy of intimidation. What affected Watson were two changes. One was that the great players retired, giving him responsibilities beyond his abilities. The tide went out, leaving just the bluster. The other was DRS, which meant that batsmen could no longer get away with the front-foot stomp. Was Watson's failure to convert starts into big scores a weakness that was mental, or technical?
Perhaps there was a deep question of self-belief, where an essentially nice bloke wasn't quite at home in his stage persona. Perhaps also, when he was hitting so much off the front foot, dismissal was only a matter of time, and his superb hand-eye co-ordination could only keep him out of trouble for so long.
The best thing about Watson on this tour has been his bowling. One wicket for 114 in the first five innings of the series is a figure that does no justice to the impact he has had. His economy rate, of 1.93, says more. Not only that, but he has given crucial relief to the specialist seamers. A year ago, his batting could command a place in the team while his bowling was an optional extra. Now, he is hanging on by his hamstrings. He seemed to know that when he holed out to third man on Sunday. He had done an adequate job, moving the scoreboard along for half an hour, not thinking about his front pad but about where he had to place the ball. He was back in one-day mode. So when he got out, his disappointment was so visible it suggested many different causes.
Already in this series, a bigger picture is emerging. This is only part one.
Watson has some work to do if he is to feature in part two.
