Labuschagne carefully spreads butter on the top and bottom of a slice of white bread. “That’s the key,” he states as he brings down the lid of his sandwich grill. “Boom. Then you get it toasted on each side.” He checks inside to reveal a perfectly browned of ideal crispiness, the melted cheese happily melting inside. “So this is the key technique,” he declares. At which point, he does something shocking and odd.
Already, it’s clear a sense of disinterest is beginning to cover your eyes. The warning signs of elaborate writing are blinking intensely. You’re no doubt informed that Labuschagne hit 160 for his state team this week and is being feverishly talked up for an return to the Test side before the Ashes.
No doubt you’d prefer to read more about cricket matters. But first – you now realise with an anguished sigh – you’re going to have to endure three paragraphs of playful digression about toasted sandwiches, plus an further tangential section of self-referential analysis in the second person. You feel resigned.
He turns the sandwich on to a plate and moves toward the fridge. “Few try this,” he remarks, “but I personally prefer the toastie cold. Done, in the fridge. You let the cheese firm up, go bat, come back. Boom. Sandwich is perfect.”
Look, here’s the main point. How about we cover the sports aspect out of the way first? Quick update for reading until now. And while there may be just six weeks until the initial match, Labuschagne’s hundred against Tasmania – his third this season in various games – feels quietly decisive.
We have an Aussie opening batsmen clearly missing performance and method, exposed by the Proteas in the WTC final, highlighted further in the West Indies after that. Labuschagne was left out during that series, but on one hand you gathered Australia were desperate to rehabilitate him at the earliest chance. Now he appears to have given them the ideal reason.
Here is a plan that Australia need to work. Usman Khawaja has just one 100 in his last 44 knocks. The young batsman looks less like a Test opener and more like the attractive performer who might play a Test opener in a Bollywood movie. None of the alternatives has made a cogent case. McSweeney looks cooked. Another option is still inexplicably hanging around, like moths or damp. Meanwhile their skipper, the pace bowler, is hurt and suddenly this seems like a unusually thin squad, lacking command or stability, the kind of built-in belief that has often helped Australia dominate before a game starts.
Here comes Labuschagne: a world No 1 Test batter as in the recent past, just left out from the one-day team, the ideal candidate to restore order to a fragile lineup. And we are informed this is a calmer and more meditative Labuschagne these days: a pared-down, back-to-basics Labuschagne, less intensely fixated with small details. “I believe I have really cut out extras,” he said after his hundred. “Not overthinking, just what I need to score runs.”
Of course, this is doubted. Most likely this is a new approach that exists entirely in Labuschagne’s own head: still furiously stripping down that method from dawn to dusk, going deeper into fundamentals than anyone else would try. You want less technical? Marnus will devote weeks in the practice sessions with trainers and footage, completely transforming into the most basic batsman that has ever been seen. That’s the trait of the obsessed, and the characteristic that has consistently made Labuschagne one of the most wildly absorbing players in the cricket.
Maybe before this highly uncertain historic rivalry, there is even a type of appealing difference to Labuschagne’s unquenchable obsession. In England we have a squad for whom technical study, especially personal critique, is a risky subject. Feel the flavours. Stay in the moment. Live in the instant.
In the other corner you have a player such as Labuschagne, a man completely dedicated with cricket and magnificently unbothered by public perception, who sees cricket even in the spaces between the cricket, who treats this absurd sport with precisely the amount of odd devotion it demands.
His method paid off. During his focused era – from the instant he appeared to come in for a hurt Smith at Lord’s in 2019 to around the end of 2022 – Labuschagne found a way to see the game more deeply. To reach it – through sheer intensity of will – on a different, unusual, intense plane. During his days playing Kent league cricket, teammates would find him on the day of a match positioned on a seat in a focused mindset, literally visualising every single ball of his time at the crease. Per the analytics firm, during the first few years of his career a unusually large proportion of catches were spilled from his batting. Somehow Labuschagne had anticipated outcomes before anyone had a chance to influence it.
It’s possible this was why his form started to decline the point he became number one. There were no further goals to picture, just a empty space before his eyes. Furthermore – he stopped trusting his favorite stroke, got stuck in his crease and seemed to lose awareness of his stumps. But it’s connected really. Meanwhile his coach, his coach, thinks a emphasis on limited-overs started to weaken assurance in his alignment. Encouragingly: he’s recently omitted from the one-day team.
No doubt it’s important, too, that Labuschagne is a man of deep religious faith, an evangelical Christian who thinks that this is all preordained, who thus sees his role as one of accessing this state of flow, however enigmatic and inexplicable it may look to the mortal of us.
This mindset, to my mind, has always been the key distinction between him and Steve Smith, a more naturally gifted player
A passionate writer and creative enthusiast, sharing insights on art, design, and innovation to inspire others.