A CURIOUS anonymity encases the character of Australia's captain. It is not a mask. Although Mark Taylor is craftier than is commonplace among his compatriots, he is not a man for camouflage or conceit or any of those dubious games that please little minds.

Rather it is that he does not lend himself to convenient absolutes. Whereas Allan Border and Steve Waugh lay bare before us, as cut and dried as a gutted word, Taylor slips slowly into our consciousness as a man not so much of unfettered will or released humanity as of the thoughtful application of an underestimated talent.

He stands not as a superb and trained athlete of the modern age nor as a grizzled antipodean but as an engaged and somehow distant man with toughness and ambition, and a record as a captain, slip fieldsman and batsman that belies his comfortable construction. He has a country body and an urban mind.

With Taylor it is easy to find the flesh and hard to find the bones. No single trait dominates his character. He is neither flamboyant nor reserved, his words neither anodyne nor particularly penetrating. Yet he has not taken the tedious middle ground, and does not lack conviction or position, for this is a Christian gentleman. A formidable and presentable strength lies within an unimpressive frame.

A part of the explanation of Taylor's rise is that he is a man of broad capability. He could be a lawyer or an engineer or a docker or a prop forward or a surveyor, in which latter profession he is indeed trained, having secured a college degree.

In so far as Taylor is remarkable, it is because neither clarity of mind nor intelligence confuses or hinders him. As befits a boy born and mostly raised in Wagga Wagga (Aboriginal for Many Crows) Taylor feeds upon a diet of common sense.

Contrary to widespread impression, Wagga is not a remote outpost full of leathery types and thirsty tongues. It is a large industrial town located in the southern wheatbelt region of New South Wales. It is also a cricketing stronghold, and can boast Geoff Lawson and Michael Slater among its other products. Youngsters raised amid this steel usually emerge as either poets or pragmatists. In essence, Slater took the former course, Taylor the latter.

Taylor does not hover on the edge of an idea, for this is no Prufrock forever wondering if his hair is properly combed or his trousers properly turned up. Herein lies his strength as a leader. Taylor is at once a man of thought and action. He scrutinises a notion and, if it passes muster, acts upon it in the heat. To his captaincy he brings a mixture of intelligence and aggression. And, like Napoleon's favourite generals, he has been blessed by another quality: fortune.

It is a combination most famously and, perhaps misleadingly, seen at work during Australia's astonishing victory in a World Cup semi-final in Chandigarh. All hope seemed lost as the West Indians romped towards victory. Twenty or 30 runs were needed with time to spare and wickets in hand. Taylor promptly did something so improbable, so mad, that it defied calculation. He threw the ball to Stuart Law and asked him to bowl, not his modest medium-pacers but his leg-spinners, a brand not seen in public for a decade. It was an incredible gamble.

It was also palpably a mistake. Law bowled two erratic overs and was removed, whereupon Glenn McGrath and Shane Warne bowled their team to victory. And yet the manoeuvre was a masterstroke because it sent a message of hope to the team.

Another apparent miracle occured in Brisbane last November as the West Indians batted carefully towards the Australian total. Paul Reiffel broke down during an over and Taylor, to widespread amazement, threw the ball to Ricky Ponting, whose skills as a swing bowler had hitherto escaped notice. Ponting duly burst through Jimmy Adams's tentative defence with his opening delivery. Again Taylor's acumen was proclaimed.

But it was not such a wild move. None of the usual practitioners was loose, Ponting is no mug and it was only a few balls. It's just that it worked. Again.

The true strength of Taylor's captaincy lies not so much in his inspiration as in his singularity and strategic shrewdness. Here is a leader prepared to decline to enforce the follow-on in his first home Test, much to the dismay of former captains in the press box. He did it again against the West Indies last winter, and again was chastised by experienced observers. On both occasions he argued that his bowlers were tired and that time was on his side. He thought the move obvious. Both matches ended in victory. Both decisions required nerves of steel.

Moreover, Taylor has been brave enough to play forcing cricket in all circumstances. On the field he searches for wickets rather than waiting upon their fall. At the crease he tries to push for runs which partly explains his decline since he is not quite good enough to carry out his own instructions.

Whereas Border resented every run scored against his beloved Australia, Taylor takes risks, challenges his opponents and his colleagues, which is not to say he is reckless for he is not in the business of giving matches away. Nevertheless, 17 Test matches in a row have produced results.

Most of all, Taylor has nurtured gifted youngsters. Almost alone among Australians he had faith in Michael Bevan's cricket. Bevan was widely considered scared of bumpers - in Australian terms he might as well have wandered around in a petticoat - while his bowling had failed to impress. Taylor staunchly defended him and encouraged him to play his natural game with bat and ball. Under no other current captain could Bevan have taken so many cheap wickets last winter.

Taylor has also assisted Jason Gillespie, a raw, pony-tailed, lanky man with a motorbike and children called Star and Sapphire. Reaching beneath the surface, Taylor saw Gillespie's diligence and pace and in a few months the south Australian has become a formidable bowler.

Taylor manages to be in charge and close to his players, possibly because he is more pub than nightclub, more pub than library, more pub than office, which is not to say he is a drinker merely that he is straightforward and prefers simple things.

Only in the last few weeks has he begun to wear the haunted look of a man whose place is insecure. Slowly the team is slipping from his grasp. Players are not fools and they know he is not worth his place and survives against traditions.

It is not entirely his own fault. Taylor was obliged to return too quickly from a back operation because the team had not fared well under Ian Healy in Sri Lanka. He has never fully recovered in body, game or mind. At present he is a mediocre batsman, and runs seem far away.

It has been a swift fall and he has not quite managed it. He needs to rediscover his rhythm in the county matches and must score well in the opening Tests. If he fails he will fall. Steve Waugh has been put into position to replace him.

His disappearance would be a pity rather than a tragedy because he has had a good run. But cricket would lose a captain who has helped to lift the Australian team and the game itself by understanding and exploring the possibilities of both.