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The Australian batsman methodically applies butter on both sides of a slice of white bread. “That’s the key,” he tells the camera as he lowers the lid of his toastie maker. “There you go. Then you get it toasted on both sides.” He lifts the lid to reveal a toasted delight of pure toasted goodness, the bubbling cheese happily sizzling within. “So this is the secret method,” he explains. At which point, he does something horrific and unspeakable.

At this stage, it’s clear a sense of disinterest is beginning to appear in your eyes. The alarm bells of sportswriting pretension are flashing wildly. You’re likely conscious that Labuschagne hit 160 for Queensland Bulls this week and is being feverishly talked up for an Australian Test recall before the England-Australia contest.

You probably want to read more about cricket matters. But first – you now realise with an anguished sigh – you’re going to have to sit through a section of wobbling whimsy about grilled cheese, plus an extra unwanted bonus paragraph of tiresome meta‑deconstruction in the “you” perspective. You groan once more.

He turns the sandwich on to a serving plate and moves toward the fridge. “Not many people do this,” he states, “but I genuinely enjoy the toastie cold. Done, in the fridge. You let the cheese firm up, go for a hit, come back. Perfect. Sandwich is perfect.”

The Cricket Context

Alright, let’s try it like this. Shall we get the sports aspect to begin with? Small reward for making it this far. And while there may be just six weeks until the series opener, Labuschagne’s hundred against the Tasmanian side – his third of the summer in various games – feels quietly decisive.

This is an Australian top order badly short of performance and method, exposed by the South African team in the WTC final, exposed again in the following Caribbean tour. Labuschagne was dropped during that tour, but on a certain level you sensed Australia were desperate to rehabilitate him at the first opportunity. Now he appears to have given them the perfect excuse.

Here is a approach the team should follow. Khawaja has just one 100 in his recent 44 batting efforts. The young batsman looks not quite a Test match opener and rather like the handsome actor who might play a Test opener in a Indian film. None of the alternatives has made a cogent case. Nathan McSweeney looks cooked. Marcus Harris is still surprisingly included, like unwanted guests. Meanwhile their skipper, Pat Cummins, is hurt and suddenly this appears as a unusually thin squad, short of strength or equilibrium, the kind of natural confidence that has often helped Australia dominate before a ball is bowled.

Labuschagne’s Return

Enter Marnus: a leading Test player as recently as 2023, just left out from the ODI side, the right person to return structure to a brittle empire. And we are told this is a calmer and more meditative Labuschagne currently: a simplified, fundamental-focused Labuschagne, not as intensely fixated with minor adjustments. “It seems I’ve really stripped it back,” he said after his century. “Less focused on technique, just what I should bat effectively.”

Naturally, this is doubted. Probably this is a rebrand that exists entirely in Labuschagne’s own head: still furiously stripping down that technique from all day, going further toward simplicity than any player has attempted. Prefer simplicity? Marnus will devote weeks in the practice sessions with coaches and video clips, exhaustively remoulding himself into the most basic batsman that has ever existed. This is just the trait of the obsessed, and the characteristic that has always made Labuschagne one of the highly engaging sportsmen in the sport.

Wider Context

Maybe before this very open historic rivalry, there is even a type of pleasing dissonance to Labuschagne’s unquenchable obsession. For England we have a side for whom any kind of analysis, especially personal critique, is a risky subject. Go with instinct. Stay in the moment. Embrace the current.

On the opposite side you have a batsman like Labuschagne, a player utterly absorbed with the game and magnificently unbothered by who knows about it, who sees cricket even in the spaces between the cricket, who treats this absurd sport with just the right measure of quirky respect it demands.

His method paid off. During his shamanic phase – from the time he walked out to substitute for an injured Steve Smith at the famous ground in 2019 to until late 2022 – Labuschagne found a way to see the game more deeply. To tap into it – through sheer intensity of will – on a different, unusual, intense plane. During his days playing club cricket, colleagues noticed him on the game day positioned on a seat in a focused mindset, actually imagining every single ball of his time at the crease. According to Cricviz, during the first few years of his career a surprisingly high proportion of catches were missed when he batted. Somehow Labuschagne had intuited what would happen before fielders could respond to change it.

Form Issues

Perhaps this was why his form started to decline the point he became number one. There were no worlds left to visualise, just a boundless, uncharted void before his eyes. Also – to be fair – he lost faith in his cover drive, got trapped on the crease and seemed to misjudge his positioning. But it’s connected really. Meanwhile his mentor, D’Costa, thinks a attention to shorter formats started to weaken assurance in his alignment. Encouragingly: he’s recently omitted from the ODI side.

Certainly it’s relevant, too, that Labuschagne is a devoutly religious individual, an religious believer who believes that this is all predetermined, who thus sees his job as one of accessing this state of flow, 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 Steve Smith, a inherently talented player