Except that is for two spin-bowlers, one from each side, who broke the boredom with the innuendos of their craft and lifted the spirits with the honesty in their heart. Robert Croft and Paul Strang, Welsh-born and Rhodesia-born, the men of the month. Croft we know, for we can see him each week in county cricket, living each excited moment of his cricket life as if it were his last.
Strang we didn't know at all but we do now and will not forget him, the pocket-sized party-pooper. England were easing to victory in the second limited-over job on Wednesday afternoon until Strang began his bowling in the 24th over and with nine consecutive overs of turn and fizz and flight and he single-handedly spoiled the fun. It was nice and politic that the man of the match award was shared between Strang and Crawley, but it was nonsense for Strang was the man, end of story.
Paul Strang bowled his first leg-break when he was 10. It came out OK, which surprised him because he thought it might fly over the garden wall. Next morning his father whispered the news at school and the coach was so smitten that he would not allow the boy the luxury of bowling seam-up again. Strang has been bowling leg- breaks ever since.
Wrist spin is rather in vogue at present. A decade ago it seemed to have gone forever. Only Abdul Qadir, the mystic with the most distinctive, mesmeric bowling action of them all, flew the flag, but these days there are little Warne's and Adams' and Mushy's and Strang's all over the place.
There is a bit of a union too, a sort of sect of leggers who share their secrets. ``Warney is particularly good on the mental side of it,'' says Strang, ``he was slogged when he started but he came through it to be the best and most economical that I believe a leg spinner can be. Something is always happening when a wrist spinner bowls and often it is a batsman chasing you, so it is important to stay calm.''
Shane Warne and Mushtaq Ahmed have it easier because almost always they bowl. ``And they both have captains who let them bowl if things don't go right straight away,'' says Strang. ``Not that I don't, but there is less room for manoeuvre if you are only defending 200.''
He reckons that he learned the age-old art of bluff and double bluff from chatting with Mushtaq - ``You know, planned field changes and the odd intended bad ball to encourage a certain type of stroke'' - and the introduction of subtle little variations from talking with Warne and Richie Benaud. ``I do bowl two different leg-breaks, one is supposed to spin and bounce more than the other, but I don't bowl two googlies, it is just that they come out differently sometimes.''
He admits that he is still working at the flipper but is yet to try to deliver it in a Test - ``well it might fly over the garden wall'' - and is concentrating most on getting the wrong 'un right. He noticed how the England players studied him from front on and suspected they were looking at videos too (which they were) but it takes time, he says, to pick a googly from so far away - ``I know, I studied Mushtaq in Pakistan'' - so the short series was to his advantage.
This is a pragmatic leg- break bowler, not pleading or pouting. An unfussy cricketer, not posey, and a brilliant, fast fielder, as electric as Jonty Rhodes.
It was in Pakistan during October last that Strang became the 18th player to score 100 and take five wickets in an innings in a Test match. His five for 212 from 69 overs was a more glossy five for 75 from 26 overs until Wasim Akram and Saqulain Mushtaq slammed 313 for the eighth wicket. The pitch was flat and slow but the Pakistan bowling less so, so his hundred, coming in at No 8 with the team teetering at 142 for six, was some effort. He could always bat and opening for Barnt Green in the Birmingham League last summer tightened his game.
Yup, the Birmingham League. This fresh-faced 26-year-old is no hunter nor farmer, he is a pro who is keen for county cricket to hurry his education. ``We don't have enough first-class cricket here and I need more experience. Mushy believes county cricket has been a great help to his patience and confidence.''
Which is a worry, if English cricket is helping everyone else's confidence. ``Actually I think that Crawley and Hussain have played me as well as anyone, except for Salim Malik, and having watched a lot of county cricket I know it would do me good. I think I would give a lot back too,'' he says.
He talks confidently and seriously without a hint of selfimportance, which is the endearing trait of his honest and engaging countrymen. He is a ``Rhodie'' in the old sense, the son of a Mutare timber merchant (for whom he once worked) who loved sport and stopped at nothing to give that love of sport to his son.
Now it is his turn, and the turn of his brother Bryan who sometimes plays for Zimbabwe too, and the turn of the other Zimbabwe players and their administrators, to stop at nothing to ensure that their country does not, in Strang's words ``slip back down the mountain of Test cricket''.
He points out that these are early days and that there is no depth in Zimbabwean cricket, so the teaching of young black players will be imperative.
``We will need a lot of unsung heroes over the next few years,'' he suggests. For the moment, though, he can be comfortable with the knowledge that he has made a sung hero of himself, not only to his people but to the legacy of the ancient and riveting art that has rarely been mastered by any other than a special and riveting cricketer.