The cost not counted

So the Ethics Group concluded that Cricket Australia spawned a malevolent culture of “winning without counting the cost”.

From the head of the snake down, the sole criterion by which CA judged performance was victory. And damn the consequences.

It was this insidious, poisonous and destructive culture which drove Dave Warner to show Cam Bancroft how to use sandpaper to roughen the ball. It was this bullying, corrosive and over-bearing culture which apparently robbed Bancroft of his free will to refuse. And it was this cynical, myopic and obsessive culture which motivated Steve Smith to allow the unthinkable to occur.

If we accept the findings by the Ethics Group, not SteveSmith, not Warner and not Bancroft gave any thought to the cost of their actions. Their sole focus was upon winning.

So what was the cost not counted?

We all know about the cost to the players. Whilst the administrators responsible for the culture must surely be held accountable, I maintain that the cost paid by the players is fair. They were grown men, charged with representing our country, and they should have known right from wrong, irrespective of any overarching culture.

Then there is the cost paid in the form of team performance. Other than the heroic draw in Dubai, against Pakistan, the Australians have performed dismally in all forms of the game since March. And there is every chance that India will be celebrating their first Test series win in Australia this coming Summer.

But the real cost of the ball tampering scandal is more pervasive and long-lasting. It’s going to be hard to shake.

It comes in the form of our collective loss of faith in the national team we spend countless hours – and nervous twitches – supporting.

Peever fell on his sword. (Photo: William West/AFP)

How can we be confident that the ‘win without counting the cost’ culture has not seen us cheat before?

Can we accept the claims that the Aussies have never previously interfered with the ball? Have any of our past triumphs been achieved through ball tampering?

Can we be sure that our prowess at abusive, personal sledging has never gone so far as to cause an accomplished batsman to lose his wicket in a funk of rage… or a cloud of tears?

And what about that time, in India, when Steve Smith sought the assistance of the dressing room when contemplating whether to challenge a LBW decision? Was it really a brain-explosion? Or was it evidence of a complex system of clandestine signals from the dressing room to assist in DRS referrals?

I stress that I have no evidence to suggest that any of this cheating has occurred. My point is that the ball tampering incident, and the Ethics Group findings, have me asking these uncomfortable questions.

When it comes to Australian cricket, I have traditionally suffered from clinically insane optimism. Doubtless when the players walk out to contest the First Test in December, I will be contemplating an epic series where the much-maligned Australians rise, like poetic heroes, to win against all odds.

But I also fear that my enjoyment will be tainted by the events in March and niggling questions like the ones I have posed above. Am I watching my national team compete with its best bowling against India’s best batting, or is something else going on?

And that, for me, is the true cost which Australian cricket’s winning culture failed to count.