Australia’s solution? Stuff the future.

Beg, steal or borrow anything that packs a diversionary punch and clutch it tight for the next three weeks.

The rest of Australia’s tour of India promises to be grievously nasty viewing, so unless you enjoy an existence paralysed by huff spasms similar to an AFL chief defending a rotation cap rule, you better get down to some serious Sudoku and/or partner reconciliation before the horror resumes on the 14th March.

From a batting perspective, this depressing trip around the subcontinent is now a certified smoking ruin, much like the bowling, fielding and wicketkeeping side of things. There’s no point in watching the remaining fragments crumble, nor reflect on the horrid funk and mess that has developed thus far.

So to kick-start the boost back to full coast-to-coast health, we must lop off the whole cancerous episode from our memory, lest our treasured national identity as committed fans of a commendable cricketing bully fades to new lows. If it hasn’t already. Which it has.

It’s at this point that we must give thanks to the BCCI’s hoarding of access to the game it rightfully owns, appreciate the difficulty of tracking the last two matches in the series and follow Julia’s one-time mantra of ‘moving forward’ so we can return to a secured state of sedation, a place which can only be found a billion nautical miles away from this horrific tour where it’s images and memories can’t harm us any more.

So to complete the last step in my Home Brand mental cleansing, we look ahead to England.

Currently there’s a total lack of opinion and debate on what Australia needs to do to clean up it’s act with the troubled willow before we shoot off to the Motherland, so here is my two quid on the way out of the moist and rotting pile of sink hair we have found ourselves in.

Chris Rogers: you could do worse.

Chris Rogers: you could do worse.

A fresh direction is required and this is the answer. In a total about-face on my regurgitation of a Gillardism, I say this to the selectors: whatever you do, don’t look forward.

Give youth the flick for the Ashes. Live in the now and stuff the future.

Stiffen the Australian top six by transforming it into a halfway house between the life-deciding confusion of the early thirties and the haunting day-to-day reality of the workaday forties. Don’t look at anything that is unable to recognise Daryl Somers and Ossie, forget the long-term health of the team and think only about the present by embracing the abilities of today’s mature and elderly.

That’s right, Australian cricket has to ferry a battle-hardened bunch of old boys to England and stem the flow of wickets with a big grey plug of experience. Send the dandelion-weakness of your Hugheses, Cowans, Warners, Wades and Maxwells back to concrete college and backfill with some thirtysomething patriarch power.

It’s short sighted. It’s mental. It’s unheard of. It’s probably really stupid. But you can’t deny it has a chance of working out more favourably than what we’ve got at the moment.

Coke-bottled Chris Rogers has had a blinding Shield season, so give him one of the opener’s positions. Galvanise the middle order with some balding domestic Pops in the form of Adam Voges and George Bailey, and if Glenn Maxwell can be passed off as a Test spinner because he can apparently bat, then why not give a chance to a calcified version with proven ability like David Hussey?

In a perfect world, I would implore the powers to coax his brother Mike out of retirement too, but I feel that kind of radical suggestion would just make this piece seem silly.

Any Huss will do. We are that desperate.

Any Huss will do. We are that desperate.

While we are stocking up on the weathered, let’s lump for a reliable wicketkeeper who competently catches deliveries that have passed by the batsman on strike. With seven first class centuries and hands trained to prevent cricket balls from coming in to contact with grass, let’s give Chris Hartley a boarding pass.

Think I’m on the crazy seeds? Then consider this.

If further rope is fed to the pack of jittery youngsters that we’ve taken to India, Australia could well be coming in to the Boxing Day Test with an overall 8-0 deficit and a generation of bats forever scarred beyond repair by the evils of conventional swing and spin bowling. With some disposable older fellows, comfortable in their own skin, in full knowledge of their limitations and with eons of know-how in dealing with domestic attacks and the failure of previous repeated non-selection, we could limit that deficit to around 3-0, thus saving face and making it safe to leave our houses again.

It makes sense.

Leave the young blokes at home, safe from the public stoning of a failed Ashes campaign, where they can ready themselves to make progress against the next defenceless minnow on the cosiness of our non-turning and bouncy home wickets.

Get in the old blokes, who may know the right end of a cricket bat.

This twin-series mission to slowly graft our way back to a reasonable level of credibility with a bunch of enthusiastic elders would be just like the loveable smash movie ‘Space Cowboys,’ an uplifting story about some reborn steamers lead on a journey by Clint Eastwood which I vaguely recall concludes with them winning back an urn of charred stumps in a cricket match against England.

See the connection?

And a tour of duty for a Dad’s army outfit would be the perfect opportunity to introduce Darren Lehmann as new coach. It just fits right.

Problem solved. Australia, you can thank me later.

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Dane Eldridge Tries Hard

Contemporary rugby league surrealism and hot takes on Shane Warne

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