"You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means."
Inigo Montoya, the swashbuckling protagonist of "The Princess Bride", might have had a thing or two to say about Bazball, and its mad, myriad, interpretations. Three-and-a-half years down the line, it's about to be pitched into its most meaningful campaign yet, yet it seems no nearer to being granted an official, meaningful definition.
Can Bazball work in Australia? It depends who you ask, and which end of the kaleidoscope you happen to be peering down, because this word, and its implications, mean different things to different observers. As last week's unhinged headlines in the West Australian have already demonstrated, it arguably means more to the hosts who are offended by its existence than it does to the visitors who, to this day, barely acknowledge it to be a thing.
Do such semantics even matter? Probably more than you think, given the inimitably immersive nature of an Ashes tour, and the likelihood that off-field narratives will end up fuelling the on-field action.
Ask the average Australian what Bazball means to them, and you'll doubtless have to wade through a torrent of invective before you get to the nub of their distaste. It means hubris, it means "moral victories", it means getting antsy about Spirit of Cricket debates. It means getting so high on your own supply that you can gather your troops around you, as Brendon McCullum did after an agonising, agenda-swiping defeat in the opening Test of the 2023 Ashes, and declare with a straight face that it "almost felt like a win".
It's style over substance, essentially, from an England team that has won none and lost 13 of its last 15 Tests in Australia, and hasn't beaten a "Big Three" opponent, home or away, since 2018. And it is clearly infuriating, not least to the Aussie old guard, who resent the implication that the sport they perfected 20 years ago is in need of reinvention, or even - as England's evangelistic narrative has at times implied - rescuing. Adam Gilchrist, by reputation one of the sport's good guys, has never looked more like an angry old man shouting at clouds than when, in an interview with the Grade Cricketer podcast last month, he was asked if the word wound him up. Reader, it truly does…
And yet, the irony is that England themselves have never bought into the Bazbollocks, as it were. When the word was coined on this website, back in May 2022, it was as a prediction, not a reaction. McCullum was then still weeks away from naming his first Test squad, let alone imparting any of the lessons he had learned in his own remarkable playing career. Only one thing was clear: if England were willing to appoint a man of his reputation to take charge of a red-ball squad for the first time in his coaching career, then things were about to get radically different. "Buckle up and get ready for the ride", as Rob Key even put it in his accompanying press release.
And so, as the word gained traction in those heady early months of England's Test revival, Bazball initially carried as much value as "X" might in an algebraic equation: it was an unknown quantity, awaiting whatever meaning Baz and his acolytes were willing to imbue it with, while at the same time, offering a handy shortcut to spare the media from having to describe "thestyleofTestcricketthatEnglandadoptedinthesummerof2022…" in every subsequent mention. Why blurt out a 100-word paragraph when the era's parameters were so clearly delineated?
England, however, disowned it from the outset. McCullum declared it "silly", but seeing as nature abhors a vacuum (and social media loves a Streisand effect) his reaction only encouraged any and every definition to be sucked into the resulting void - including the silliest of the lot, the Collins Dictionary's induction of Bazball into its official lexicon. Marnus Labuschagne's verdict was succinct - "garbage" - but the dictionary's half-arsed definition wasn't that much more considered: "a style of test [sic] cricket in which the batting side attempts to gain the initiative by playing in a highly aggressive manner." (As if to demonstrate the depth of thought that had gone into this stunt, "Brendan" McCullum's name was even misspelt in the accompanying citation.)
Such is the back story that fuels the assumption that England's approach to this Ashes campaign is flawed and frivolous. Several pundits, at home and away, have agreed with the narrative that prevailed during the squad's build-up at Lilac Hill, that a week spent lolling by a bend in the Swan River, followed by a solitary intra-squad beano on a pudding of a pitch, was no way to prepare for the biggest series of their lifetimes. Further hours spent on the golf course, and on boat trips to Rottnest Island, haven't exactly dissuaded the local media from their preconceptions.
And yet, buried beneath all the froth and indignation, there remains a clear and hard-nosed edge to Bazball that surely sets this series up as England's most compelling opportunity in Australia for 15 long and gruesome years.
For if we rewind to that original premise back in 2022 - that things had got so bad for English cricket that there was no alternative but to do something radically different - then we have to acknowledge that this is it. This - right here, right now - is everything that England's last Ashes campaign was not, and everything that the past four years has been building towards.
The misery, the isolation, the defeatism. All of it can go hang. English cricket touched the void on that dreadful 2021-22 campaign, and for this tour's five survivors - Ben Stokes, Joe Root, Ollie Pope, Mark Wood and Zak Crawley - simply to soak in the great outdoors this past week has been a step-up from their preparations last time out, given the fetid conditions that they were forced to endure in their Covid bio-bubbles.
For the others, there's the sense of a deeply intimate project coming to its culmination. England's refusal to engage with the Bazball narrative has, in some quarters, been interpreted as aloof and indifferent but it chimes with the precise reasons why their antics have got so far under Australia's skin. At every step of this journey (and leaving aside the weird performative elements that were echoed in the women's squad's dreadful "inspire and entertain" mantra), the gallery to which England has been playing has rarely veered from their own dressing-room balcony.
We've seen it in the selectors' unswerving support for its incumbents, most notably Crawley, but also in the senior players' submission to the wider team ethic - perhaps best epitomised by Root's use of the scoop shot, including in the first Test of that 2023 Ashes and, infamously, at the pivotal juncture of England's series loss in India. Despite the criticisms that have accompanied these moments, Root's stated desire was to muck in, thereby ensuring that the team did not arrive at this Ashes in the same predicament as the last. By the end of the Melbourne Test in December 2021, with England 3-0 down and midway through a run of one Test win in 17, Root's calendar-year tally of 1708 runs at 61.00 was more than three times higher than any of his team-mates, all of whom seemed deferent to the point of paralysis.
It's helped to create a closed loop of confirmation bias, in which England have judged their own success not by matches won and lost (again, cue the outrage…) but by the enterprise and excellence showcased along the way. It's an ethos that arguably has its roots in those lonely months of lockdown, when the onus fell on the dressing-room to be ceaselessly supportive, because if they were not, then no-one else was on hand to provide the applause. But there are also echoes of Eoin Morgan's attitude during England's white-ball revolution ahead of the 2019 World Cup, when errors were accepted, but a slackening of intent was not.
And, just as that four-year revival stemmed from the nadir of the 2015 World Cup and came to fruition four years later, so the same is true of the challenge that awaits this England Test team. They've ripped up the methods that failed them on the last three tours - not least in their identification of a coterie of fast bowlers - and tested the limits of their enterprise in a succession of series that, dare one admit it, simply did not matter as much as this one.
At the captains' press conference on the eve of the 2019 World Cup, Virat Kohli tried to goad his opposite number by suggesting the first 500-run ODI total could be in England's sights in the coming weeks. But, as it transpired, England's campaign was coloured by a quieter resolve, not least when adversity struck in their mid-tournament wobble. On tougher surfaces than they might have expected from the outset, they channelled their experience and leant into an Alpha status that few England teams before them had ever dared to embrace.
Much the same might be expected of Stokes' men in the coming months. The mistakes and over-reach of the past few years, including (as they might one day admit) in those critical Tests at Edgbaston and Lord's in 2023, will be forgiven if they can emerge victorious from this campaign. But whether or not England themselves call it Bazball is immaterial: the Barmy Army, 40,000-strong and travelling with an optimism unmatched for 15 years, will doubtless be on hand to sing it for them at the Optus, to the tune of The Cranberries' "Zombie".
"In your head, in your he-ad, Bazball, Bazball..."
The mere existence of the word, and its implications, already feels a bigger deal for the hosts than their challengers.