The Australian batsman carefully spreads butter on both sides of a slice of plain bread. “That’s essential,” he explains as he brings down the lid of his toastie maker. “Perfect. Then you get it golden on each side.” He opens the grill to reveal a toasted delight of pure toasted goodness, the bubbling cheese happily melting inside. “Here’s the secret method,” he announces. At which point, he does something shocking and odd.
Already, you may feel a sense of disinterest is beginning to appear in your eyes. The red lights of elaborate writing are blinking intensely. You’re no doubt informed that Labuschagne hit 160 for his state team this week and is being widely discussed for an return to the Test side before the England-Australia contest.
You probably want to read more about his performance. But first – you now grasp with irritation – you’re going to have to endure several lines of playful digression about toasted sandwiches, plus an further tangential section of tiresome meta‑deconstruction in the direct address. You feel resigned.
Labuschagne flips the sandwich on to a serving plate and heads over the fridge. “Few try this,” he announces, “but I personally prefer the grilled sandwich chilled. There, in the fridge. You get that cheese to harden up, go bat, come back. Perfect. It’s ideal.”
Look, to cut to the chase. How about we cover the sports aspect out of the way first? Small reward for making it this far. And while there may still be six weeks until the series opener, Labuschagne’s century against the Tasmanian side – his third this season in all formats – feels importantly timed.
We have an Australian top order clearly missing performance and method, exposed by South Africa in the WTC final, exposed again in the Caribbean afterwards. Labuschagne was left out during that series, but on one hand you sensed Australia were desperate to rehabilitate him at the first opportunity. Now he appears to have given them the ideal reason.
This represents a approach the team should follow. Usman Khawaja has just one 100 in his last 44 knocks. Sam Konstas looks hardly a first-innings batsman and more like the attractive performer who might act as a batsman in a Bollywood movie. Other candidates has made a cogent case. Nathan McSweeney looks cooked. Another option is still inexplicably hanging around, like unwanted guests. Meanwhile their skipper, the pace bowler, is hurt and suddenly this seems like a surprisingly weak team, missing command or stability, the kind of effortless self-assurance that has often helped Australia dominate before a game starts.
Step forward Marnus: a leading Test player as recently as 2023, recently omitted from the one-day team, the right person to return structure to a brittle empire. And we are informed this is a more relaxed and thoughtful Labuschagne now: a streamlined, no-frills Labuschagne, not as maniacally obsessed with technical minutiae. “I feel like I’ve really cut out extras,” he said after his hundred. “Not overthinking, just what I should score runs.”
Naturally, this is doubted. Most likely this is a rebrand that exists entirely in Labuschagne’s personal view: still furiously stripping down that method from morning to night, going further toward simplicity than anyone has ever dared. You want less technical? Marnus will take time in the training with coaches and video clips, completely transforming into the least technical batter that has ever existed. That’s the nature of the addict, and the characteristic that has always made Labuschagne one of the deeply fascinating cricketers in the game.
It could be before this inscrutably unpredictable Ashes series, there is even a type of pleasing dissonance to Labuschagne’s endless focus. For England we have a team for whom detailed examination, let alone self-analysis, is a risky subject. Feel the flavours. Focus on the present. Smell the now.
In the other corner you have a batsman like Labuschagne, a man utterly absorbed with the sport and wonderfully unconcerned by who knows about it, who sees cricket even in the spaces between the cricket, who handles this unusual pursuit with exactly the level of quirky respect it deserves.
And it worked. During his shamanic phase – from the time he walked out to replace a concussed Steve Smith at Lord’s Cricket Ground in 2019 to until late 2022 – Labuschagne found a way to see the game with greater insight. To reach it – through pure determination – on a higher, weirder, more frenzied level. During his stint in English county cricket, colleagues noticed him on the game day resting on a bench in a meditative condition, mentally rehearsing every single ball of his batting stint. According to cricket statisticians, during the early stages of his career a statistically unfathomable proportion of catches were dropped off his bat. Somehow Labuschagne had anticipated outcomes before anyone had a chance to affect it.
Maybe this was why his career began to disintegrate the moment he reached the summit. There were no further goals to picture, just a empty space before his eyes. Also – to be fair – he stopped trusting his cover drive, got unable to move forward and seemed to misjudge his positioning. But it’s part of the same issue. Meanwhile his coach, Neil D’Costa, thinks a focus on white-ball cricket started to undermine belief in his positioning. Good news: he’s just been dropped from the 50-over squad.
Certainly it’s relevant, too, that Labuschagne is a devoutly religious individual, an religious believer who thinks that this is all preordained, who thus sees his role as one of reaching this optimal zone, no matter how mysterious it may appear to the mortal of us.
This approach, to my mind, has long been the primary contrast between him and Smith, a more naturally gifted player
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