There is something strangely soothing about what is currently transpiring in Australian cricket. For years now, the Australian team has consistently found ways to pull off abominable on-field feats that serve only to corroborate its image as a pack of devious tricksters, a bunch of players that places itself on a sanctimonious pedestal only for its misdeeds to bring it tumbling down. We are at a classic schadenfreude moment, when the prevailing sense of sadistic pleasure seems more or less reasonable.
But while the startling disintegration of a world-class squad and its two supremely talented commanders may delight rival teams