Sri Lanka's third successive failure in Kandy leaves supporters and pundits searching for rational explanations. Forget talk of ground hoodoos and jinx, though, because there is a trend that suggests a more disturbing conclusion: This Sri Lankan Test side has forgotten how to win closely fought matches and has become scared of success.

To lose three Tests on the trot in one venue overseas could be explained by unfamiliar conditions, but against South Africa and England the crumbling pitch was perfectly suited to Sri Lanka's medley of spinners while the pitch in the match against India was neutral, offering both sides an equal chance.

Ground conditions then do not provide an adequate answer. Instead, one needs to look at the nature of the games themselves and there are clear similarities that can be drawn between all three matches. Sanath Jayasuriya alluded to it when he said after the game: "We did not lose because we played in Kandy, but because of the cricket we played."

Firstly, Sri Lanka lost in Kandy having won the first Test of a three-Test series in Galle. Secondly, all three games were closely fought affairs in which Sri Lanka had established, but then squandered positions of dominance. Finally, Sri Lanka's batsmen floundered in their second innings.

All the above point to a sudden bout of timidity just when the final nails in the coffin were to be banged in with gusto. When the time comes to finish off the series, Sri Lanka's players offer the opposition a kindly hand of assistance back onto their feet.

This week we saw it when India were 154 for six in their first innings, still 120 runs adrift of Sri Lanka. One hour later India had reduced the deficit to 42 after a blistering 44 from 32 balls by Harbhajan Singh. Sri Lanka had undone all the good work earlier in the day with a profligate spell of bowling after tea.

Then, in their second innings, Marvan Atapattu and Kumar Sangakkara had extended their slender lead to 94 at the end of the day with nine wickets remaining. Even if they had played reasonably for two hours they would have batted India out of the game. They responded woefully, losing eight wickets for 105 runs.

India deserve some credit of course. Harbhajan Singh still had to capitalise on the wayward bowling and Zaheer Khan and Venkatesh Prasad put the ball in the right areas. Nevertheless, Sri Lanka were in charge of their destiny and they opted for self-destruction.

Sri Lanka's problems, it seems, may be twofold and fundamental. Firstly, could it be that their great strength as humans, is their greatest weakness in cricket: they are simply too unselfish and charming? Do their societal values that underpin each individual actually undermine the development of a killer instinct in cricket?

They can surely be no better hosts in international cricket. During England's last tour the cricket board actually forced the national captain and coach to miss a day of training in Colombo so that they could attend a pre-tour press conference in Galle. Then, when England requested a last minute change in itinerary, they acquiesced without a murmur.

To the hard-nosed Australia or South Africa such pliant behaviour by their administrators would cause outrage. They make life as hard as possible for touring sides and reap the consequent rewards. Sri Lankan administrators, however, go out of their way to be amenable and co-operative, sometimes to the detriment of their own side.

The Test team follows cue, by letting the opposition back into games when they should be ruthless, ramming home their advantage and rubbing the noses of the opposition into the dust.

Ingrained benevolence can only be part of the explanation. The rest is explained by a regression, not in talent or technique, but in attitude. Dav Whatmore summed it up well before the Kandy Test when he said: "The players don't know how good they are."

In one-day cricket Sri Lanka have mastered the art of winning, but in Test cricket success remains elusive because the team lacks the self belief necessary to finish the job, especially in tight situations. Too much respect is given to the opposition and too little to themselves, which prompts bouts of negativity at pivotal moments.

When one sees the old warhorse Arjuna Ranatunga pop up in the commentary box, one is reminded just how much he gave to Sri Lankan cricket. He was not perfect by any means, but he was fearless and arrogant and that mentality brushed off on the team, who finally realised that they need not be international minnows.

Ranatunga took the game to the opposition. Off the field he may have been soft-spoken, but on it he was confrontational and aggressive. In short Ranatunga was a winner, who looked at an opponent in the eye and believed he was better, even if he wasn't.

Sanath Jayasuriya has many qualities as a captain and his consensual style helped heal rifts in the early days, but he is lacking in the qualities that Sri Lanka now need most: a true leader of men who can make the team believe in itself.

So, what can be done? Nothing overnight is the unfortunate truth because there is no natural leader and Sri Lanka are faced with a catch 22 cul-de-sac. To overcome what is effectively an inferiority complex they need to start winning Test series, but to do that they need to prevent their bouts of introspection.

There is, however, some paradoxical hope. Sri Lanka invariably lose matches that are tightly contested, but can win emphatically, where the pressure is less and winning involves a slow kill. Sri Lanka's best chance of winning the series it seems is for them to establish an unassailable advantage in the final Test, before slowly eking out the opposition.

© CricInfo