I managed to sit through an hour of England’s humiliating defeat to New Zealand, before deciding the inevitable steady procession of England wickets wasn’t worth bamboozling my body clock for.
At this point, I was expecting to wake up to find New Zealand had chased down a humble England total of 240 with six wickets and 6.2 overs to spare.
Instead, myself and the rest of the cricket following public were greeted by the news that England had mustered a paltry 123 all out, a total surpassed by the Kiwis in a frankly ridiculous 12.2 overs.
Former England all-rounder Ian Botham described it as “the worst performance in 40 years”, whilst Jonathan Agnew labelled it “the most one-sided one-day international between test-playing nations that I can remember seeing”.
Yet, despite the shocking nature of the defeat and the records broken (Tim Southee’s 7-33 were the best ODI figures ever for a NZ bowler and the third best in World Cup history, Brendon McCullum’s 54 off 18 balls was the quickest in WC history), there was something queasily familiar about England’s latest humiliation.

Such defeats, especially at World Cup’s are now expected of the England cricket team, and competition after competition, they duly oblige. But why is this? Ally the technical ability of Moeen Ali and Joe Root with the boundary-hitting prowess of Eoin Morgan and Jos Buttler, and England possess a batting line up capable of posting 300+ regularly. The bowling isn’t quite as strong but in Anderson, Broad, Finn and Woakes England possess a healthy enough blend of wicket-taking and run-stifling options.
The answer is psychological. English cricket carries an unshakable aura of defeatism, long established by regular early exits from international tournaments and countless hammerings (normally by the Aussies). Despite all the talk of being capable of beating anyone (not untrue), none of us really expect it to happen. We expect to lose, and so do the players. So they do.
To a certain extent, the same thing applies in football. There has always been enormous pressure on England team’s competing in World Cup’s and European Championships. In tournaments such as the World Cup of 1986 and the Euro’s of 1996, England were expected to succeed. So they did, to the limits of their ability and fortune. In recent years, the level of expectancy has plummeted. In 2014, England weren’t expected to do anything at the World Cup in Brazil. So they didn’t. These are two different forms of pressure. Pressure to succeed, pressure to fail – both fulfilled.

In the case of cricket, this state of mind is even more damaging because so much of the game is played ‘in the head’. Confidence focuses concentration, a hugely important part of the game, especially when batting. This confidence in one’s ability to hit any ball for a boundary, or put any ball on a spot at pace, is evident in almost every Australian cricketer, and was violently evident in McCullum’s breathtaking innings on Friday.
English cricketers lack this unequivocal believe that they will succeed, and so generation after generation, tournament after tournament, team after team, they fail. In recent years, there has of course been one exception to this rule – Kevin Pietersen.
Pietersen possessed that deep-rooted confidence in his own ability, that he would succeed, that he could hit any ball for four, that he would win. In England, young cricketers grow up in an environment that does not instill this kind of unwavering belief in ones own ability. That’s not to say they’re not confident, many – Surrey’s Jason Roy being the first example to come to mind – possess a confidence that borders on arrogance. But it’s not the same thing. It is no coincidence that Pietersen grew up in South Africa, a country who’s bullish confidence when it comes to cricket puts them somewhat closer to Australia than England. And it’s no coincidence that Pietersen didn’t ‘fit in’ with the current England team.

What is needed to curb this inferiority complex is hard to say. It’s not as if the last decade of English cricket has been without success. Far from it, since 2005 England have won four Ashes series (losing only two) and the T20 World Cup, their first ever triumph in an international tournament. But most of these successes were achieved with Andy Flower at the helm, a man who possessed the typically un-English believe and determination to win.
Perhaps this is what England need. The role of the coach can often be overstated in cricket, but a good one, the right one, can instill an unshakable belief in the team. If Flower was typically un-English, Peter Moores is every bit English, and it’s hard to see him giving the England team the deep-rooted belief they need.
It could be that what England need is an Australian at the helm. It’s hard to look beyond Jason Gillespie, the former fast-bowler who last seasoned led Yorkshire to their first County Championship win since 2001. He knows English cricket, and the recent flood of England cricketers coming out of Yorkshire is no coincidence.

With Paul Downton, Managing Director of the England and Wales Cricket Board, recently labelling Moores “the coach of his generation”, a change seems unlikely anytime soon. So we might have to consider this World Cup (and maybe the next couple) a write-off, but if the ECB eventually see sense, it shouldn’t be too long before Australian Gillespie is given the chance to rediscover the belief in the English cricket.


