The simplicity of method
Two days into the third Test, a shining light continues to illuminate, negating the predictable questioning surrounding the complexities of Test match batting.
Travis Head—Australia—gathered 152 runs from 160 balls on the back of a Test-winning century in Adelaide. Brisbane was awash on Saturday; a day later, it saw a straightforward player employ a simple method to maximum effect.
If you're not following, sorry, we're talking cricket, a game that's been going as long as male dogs have cocked a leg to urinate.
The pithy I write here perfectly matches the modus operandi employed by Head. Short, concise, and blindingly simple—that's more Travis Head's batting than my discourse.
In cricket-batting speak, we create a fog of conflicting theories and constantly float undefinable statements: contact points, draw-swings, bat paths, swing planes, access, closed-off, triggers, ball-tracking, and body-part connections. You could go on; somewhere, a coach is drafting a new formula to change the world. And, it matters not one bit to Travis Head.
The simplicity of his method relies on him finding the ball (tracking) and then hitting that ball the best he can (contact)—period.
Travis Head did that 160 times until he went out; when he did, Head just walked off, sat down, and waited until he could have a beer. There is nothing else to say. He also placed his side in a commanding position in a pivotal Test match with India.
Simplicity in the method is a stark reminder that repeatable fundamentals underpin any attempt to master something, whatever your pursuit is. Strip away the unnecessary and trust the fundamental.
Happy Monday,
Nick