The triumph of the mediocre

Just when you think Test cricket has lost its capacity to surprise, it throws up an eyebrow-elevating series like the one in the Caribbean, in which a mediocre team, over-reliant on one fast bowler and lacking their star batsman, pull off a brave 1-1 draw against the odds. So congratulations to England for proving the pundits half-wrong. Keep this up and you've every chance of maybe not losing to New Zealand.

The home side is no doubt a bit disappointed to end up with a draw, but in the performances of Darren Bravo, Jermaine Blackwood and Jason Holder, they do have some pleasant consolation. A particular highlight was the moment Darren Bravo lofted Moeen Ali over midwicket with a sumptuous airy waft and the word "Lara" popped into the imaginations of thousands of cricket watchers at precisely the same instant.

Meanwhile, parochial delusion lingers about English cricket like a Beijing smog. When he walked off the field at Bridgetown, having scored nine runs in two innings, Jonathan Trott (33rd on the list of all-time England Test run scorers, with an average of 44.08) was given a standing ovation and a rolling eulogy feed on Twitter. I've nothing against standing ovations, or Jonathan Trott for that matter, but he was in the Caribbean to play cricket, and at the risk of coming over a little Geoffrey Boycott, he wasn't bloody good enough.

He wasn't the only one. England have now reached level M on the Graves Universal Measure of Mediocrity ("M" being the middle-most letter of the alphabet). They are the epitome of moderate, the median point in a scale that runs from very good to not very good, the faded white line in the middle of the road. If the English cricket team was a drink, it would be a lukewarm cup of tea without sugar that isn't actually undrinkable but which leaves your thirst unquenched and a lingering blandness on your palate.

The English media did their best to talk up the tourists. Indeed, at times they gave the impression that there was only team involved in this series. Would Alastair score any runs and save his captaincy (again)? Would Jimmy prove himself to be the greatest bowler ever? Would Jonathan pull through and save his Test career? It was a peculiarly self-indulgent soap opera in which no one had bothered to read the script to the end.

The pathological continuity of selection that defined the Flower era has subsided into a cosy narcissism, as a seemingly immovable captain surrounds himself with players he feels comfortable around, and the team drifts from defeat to victory to defeat. This lamentable state of affairs is a consequence of the Great Spring Panic of '14, in which the ECB did everything wrong, and in the wrong order: a botched revolution that will in turn beget a proper revolution this summer when the England team find themselves looking for a new captain three Tests and 27 players into the Ashes.