The Australian batsman carefully spreads butter on each surface of a slice of plain bread. “That’s the secret,” he explains as he lowers the lid of his toastie maker. “Boom. Then you get it toasted on the outside.” He checks inside to reveal a golden square of ideal crispiness, the bubbling cheese happily melting inside. “Here’s the key technique,” he announces. At which point, he does something horrific and unspeakable.
Already, you may feel a sense of disinterest is beginning to appear in your eyes. The alarm bells of elaborate writing are flashing wildly. You’re probably aware that Labuschagne hit 160 for his state team this week and is being feverishly talked up for an national team comeback before the Ashes series.
You probably want to read more about that. But first – you now understand with frustration – you’re going to have to sit through three paragraphs of wobbling whimsy about toasties, plus an extra unwanted bonus paragraph of tiresome meta‑deconstruction in the second person. You feel resigned.
Marnus transfers the sandwich on to a plate and moves toward the fridge. “Few try this,” he remarks, “but I personally prefer the cold toastie. Done, in the fridge. You let the cheese firm up, go for a hit, come back. Perfect. Toastie’s ready to go.”
Okay, let’s try it like this. Shall we get the sports aspect out of the way first? Quick update for reading until now. And while there may be just six weeks until the first Test, Labuschagne’s hundred against the Tigers – his third of the summer in various games – feels significantly impactful.
This is an Australian top order clearly missing form and structure, exposed by the Proteas in the WTC final, exposed again in the Caribbean afterwards. Labuschagne was left out during that series, but on a certain level you sensed Australia were eager to bring him back at the first opportunity. Now he seems to have given them the ideal reason.
Here is a plan that Australia need to work. Usman Khawaja has one century in his recent 44 batting efforts. Sam Konstas looks not quite a first-innings batsman and more like the handsome actor who might play a Test opener in a Bollywood epic. No other options has made a cogent case. One contender looks finished. Marcus Harris is still inexplicably hanging around, like unwanted guests. Meanwhile their skipper, Pat Cummins, is unfit and suddenly this appears as a unusually thin squad, lacking command or stability, the kind of built-in belief that has often given Australia a lead before a ball is bowled.
Enter Marnus: a leading Test player as just two years ago, just left out from the ODI side, the ideal candidate to restore order to a brittle empire. And we are told this is a composed and reflective Labuschagne these days: a pared-down, no-frills Labuschagne, no longer as maniacally obsessed with minor adjustments. “I believe I have really cut out extras,” he said after his hundred. “Not really too technical, just what I should make runs.”
Naturally, this is doubted. In all likelihood this is a new approach that exists just in Labuschagne’s own head: still endlessly adjusting that method from morning to night, going more back to basics than anyone has ever dared. You want less technical? Marnus will spend months in the practice sessions with trainers and footage, thoroughly reshaping his game into the most basic batsman that has ever existed. This is just the nature of the addict, and the quality that has long made Labuschagne one of the most wildly absorbing cricketers in the sport.
Perhaps before this very open historic rivalry, there is even a kind of interesting contrast to Labuschagne’s constant dedication. In England we have a squad for whom any kind of analysis, not to mention self-review, is a kind of dangerous taboo. Trust your gut. Stay in the moment. Smell the now.
For Australia you have a batsman like Labuschagne, a individual terminally obsessed with the game and magnificently unbothered by public perception, who finds cricket even in the gaps in the game, who approaches this quirky game with precisely the amount of odd devotion it requires.
This approach succeeded. During his shamanic phase – from the instant he appeared to substitute for an injured Smith at Lord’s Cricket Ground in 2019 to until late 2022 – Labuschagne found a way to see the game with greater insight. To tap into it – through sheer intensity of will – on a higher, weirder, more frenzied level. During his time with Kent league cricket, colleagues noticed him on the day of a match sitting on a park bench in a focused mindset, mentally rehearsing each delivery of his innings. Per cricket statisticians, during the early stages of his career a unusually large proportion of catches were missed when he batted. Remarkably Labuschagne had predicted events before others could react to affect it.
Perhaps this was why his career began to disintegrate the time he achieved top ranking. There were no further goals to picture, just a unknown territory before his eyes. Also – to be fair – he stopped trusting his favorite stroke, got unable to move forward and seemed to lose awareness of his stumps. But it’s connected really. Meanwhile his coach, his coach, believes a focus on white-ball cricket started to weaken assurance in his alignment. Good news: he’s now excluded from the ODI side.
Surely it matters, too, that Labuschagne is a man of deep religious faith, an evangelical Christian who thinks that this is all preordained, who thus sees his job as one of accessing this state of flow, however enigmatic and inexplicable it may appear to the mortal of us.
This, to my mind, has long been the main point of difference between him and the other batsman, a inherently talented player
Lena is a passionate gamer and tech writer, specializing in indie games and hardware reviews, with years of industry experience.