Two summers ago, with interest in the England Test team’s seductive new energy reaching an early peak, I wrote an article suggesting that Bazball was a cult.
There were some parts of the clinical definition of a cult that seemed analogous. A sense of mission. Charismatic, dominant individuals in charge. Presents itself as innovative and elitist. Aggressively hostile towards any kind of outside questioning.
In response to this I received a large volume of angry messages from England fans uniformly convinced Bazball was NOT a cult, that sheeple-style outsiders could never grasp the purity of its goals and that its inspirational leadership would naturally prevail. So that’s cleared that up then. Clearly not a cult. Thousands of unquestioning acolytes can’t be wrong.
A year and a half later I would like to take this back. Bazball is not a cult. Maybe it’s actually a death cult. Because England are, on the numbers, suddenly terrible at cricket. And terrible in a way that feels uniform and on-message, the first fruits of the England and Wales Cricket Board’s Bazball multiverse.
This is now fully realised. As of January 2025 Brendon McCullum runs all the men’s senior teams. The Lions have Andrew Flintoff in charge, a Total Bazball hire, all vibes, name, personality. The England women went to Australia led by a head coach intent on importing that same regime-friendly energy. So, England Cricket became a unified brand, philosophy, whatever. And the numbers across the board in that period read: played 16, won one, lost 14, with three series lost and one more on the way.
This can change very quickly. It could change in the second one-day international against India on Sunday. England are still stacked with talent. But they do also keep losing, and losing in a way that is interesting both in its unified tone, and because in many ways it really doesn’t seem to matter that much.
It is important to define terms at this point. Bazball. What is it? Is it actually anything? The players and coaches reject the term completely. But then, giving the cool guys a label is always going to annoy the cool guys. And something has definitely happened here.
Coined as a joke on a Cricinfo podcast, Bazball was initially shorthand for a fun and aggressive new way of playing Test cricket. But Bazball was always an optic too, a kind of male wellbeing brand. The vibe was key. The vibe was sitting on a balcony, sun rippling across interesting sunglasses, sculpted beard, guns, chest, singlet, feet up no socks, artisan coffee plus golf lad fusion, gym bro with man-feelings, being just an extraordinary guy with a super-cool energy.
It came with seductively meaningless mottos, most of which sound like rejected titles for Oasis greatest hits playlists. Find your own way. Be where your feet are. Believe in what you can see. Run into the fire. Bite your own teeth out. Admittedly most of these are either made-up nonsense or extracts from Ben Duckett interviews. One of them is a quote from Jim Jones of Jonestown massacre fame.
But you get the idea. Personally I still love it, partly because Bazball is so annoying to other nations, particularly Australia, who keep being told they’re not winning properly, because, like, there’s a winning that goes beyond winning.
It is also logical that this should be appealing because English cricket has never known how to package itself attractively. Trevor Bayliss knew how to win but he also looked like a guide on a rural gorge-walking tour. Peter Moores had the air of a forgotten 1990s Doctor Who. Duncan Fletcher: depressed country butcher. Bring on the fun dudes.
Plus English cricket has always been a brutal thing, cruel even to its elite players. Mike Brearley’s remark that the Bazball attitude is a reaction to depression is still the most interesting thing anyone has said about it. The pro cricket life is alienating. Everyone here went through Covid touring. Bazball seems basically to be about being in a group and feeling good. It’s deeply relatable. Don’t you want some of that too?
But then these things also follow an arc, and this is still the England cricket team. The run of defeats hasn’t come out of nowhere. The men have been losing for a while. The record in all formats since October 2023 reads won 25, lost 34. This matters because we have a major white ball year from here plus two massive Test series, the ones that really sell that form. And England are still out there operating without restraint, still losing games, still talking bullshit.
It was great to have Ravi Shastri back calling the shots before the first ODI in Nagpur this week, yelling into the camera like some intergalactic emperor on the bridge of his death star. Rohit will spin the coin! Launch the fleet! Seize him you fools!
But an entirely sensible question – how is morale in the squad? – was greeted with a baffled look by England’s captain, Jos Buttler, as though even to ask this was an act of impudence. We are beyond morale now. At the end, with defeat safely secured, Buttler was asked what his team needed to do to improve. Just play better. OK! Bring on Australia in the Champions Trophy two weeks from now. You guys are history. Because England are going to play better.
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The technical point here is that the McCullum approach is in outline unsuited to white ball cricket. Bazball has been a Rise of the Cool Guys thing, energy not detail. This works in Tests where England have Ben Stokes, Joe Root, some good bowlers and more resources than almost everyone they play.
But white ball cricket is a different animal, a format that is all about planning, detail and precisely calibrated risk and reward. Eoin Morgan has talked about how his head felt ready to explode almost every ball while he was captain. This is not going hard or finding your own way, or not worrying about the opposition. Stats are not for prats here. It’s the opposite. Winners do maths. Winners know the data. White ball cricket is nerd-ball, a battle for control, for mastery of detail.
Which perhaps explains why England produced their most clueless batting displays since the bad old days during the 4-1 T20 series defeat by India. No one seemed to learn or adapt on the hoof. The batters kept getting caught on the boundary, then Going Even Harder at getting caught on the boundary. Jamie Overton has never been to India before. Let’s put him at seven and tell him to smash mystery spin out of the ground like an own brand Tim David.
When McCullum was appointed white ball coach it was assumed he would be really good at this because he whacked it years ago and had managed two franchise teams. He also hadn’t been involved in a white ball game for three years, and this format evolves at breakneck speed. The ability to adapt, to tweak, to get a handle on detail will be key if England are to flip their current form.
The wider question is does it really matter? The best part of the past three years has been watching some much-loved players producing wonderful Test cricket moments. The worst part, in the death cult trajectory of 2025, is the sense that we are now post-winning, post-clarity, post-sport, that the Bazball interlude has been like someone making a really cool music video on the deck of a sinking ship.
There is an obvious poignancy in English cricket forgetting how to win the same week it finally becomes good at making money (£500m: chuck it in the debt hole). But then cricket has never really been about winning. This is essentially a picnic that got out of hand, monetisable standing around.
And right now in England it is more than ever about divvying up what’s left. Maybe the next step is to sell 49% of the Bazball IP to a tech consortium. Zak Crawley sitting barefoot on the outfield talking about energy, yours for £33m.
