Tuesday, December 18, 2001 Park sloggers and alleyway stonewallers across the world felt a gentle lift in their spirits last Friday as they watched Justin Langer scythe Makhaya Ntini through the covers and thought to themselves: that could have been me. There is a delightful sense of the everyday, battling amateur in the way Langer goes about his business. He is one of us, with a dash of fortune and a dollop of application. Where he plays and misses, we play and snick. Where he gets a lucky break - dropped on 1 at Hobart, survived a plumb lbw shout on 0 at the Gabba - we are fired out by ageing, trigger-happy umpires who invariably turn out to be the bowler's uncle.

Langer writes like one of us too. With his endless internet diaries, magazine articles and books on the go, he is almost as prolific a word machine as Steve Waugh, his idol-turned-skipper-turned-pal. Yet Langer's workmanlike prose rarely offers much insight into the elusive X-factor needed to succeed at the top level; instead he bangs on about his passion for the baggy green, his respect for his team-mates, his excitement at taking on the world's fastest bowlers. Just like we would.

Then there is his wide-eyed, boyish enthusiasm. Field at short-leg? Whatever you say, Tugga. After his 102 against England at The Oval, the start of his wondrous reincarnation as a Test opener, Langer declared he would happily bat anywhere in the order - all that mattered was that he was playing for Australia. At the press conference afterwards he beamed, he blushed, he cracked jokes, he fished about for extravagant metaphors. He told again and again how, in the days leading up to his Test return, he had felt like a kid at Christmas.

Off the field, being one of us is an endearing personal quality. On the field, it can be a liability. It is the reason why underestimating Langer has become, like calling for Mark Waugh's head, a national pastime. Even after his 116 paved the way for Australia's crushing victory over South Africa, an innings he rightly hailed as one of his best, the plaudits coming Langer's way seemed strangely barbed. Words like "tenacious" and "confirmed battler" cropped up in the next morning's newspapers; one seasoned critic commented that "technique-wise, Langer is an ugly duckling".

There is good reason to suspect this swan has finally found his wings. We have thought this before, of course, when Langer piled up four centuries and more than 900 runs between November 1999 and April 2000. He played two astounding innings in that period - a freakish, matchwinning 127 against Pakistan at Hobart, and a hurricane 122 not out against New Zealand at Wellington. Yet there was a slightly surreal quality to it all, for a couple of reasons.

Firstly Langer, in common with most park cricketers and many West Australians groomed on the bouncy Waca, struggles when he faces spin from the start. Secondly Australian No. 3s - from Don Bradman through to Ricky Ponting - are expected to assert themselves, to dominate. It was often said that Langer was the natural heir to the rock-solid David Boon, yet it is forgotten that Boon was a richly talented strokeplayer who reined in his game - not vice versa. Langer, coming to the crease after Michael Slater had already had his wicked way, often had to choose between bogging the innings down and ignoring his natural defensive instincts and maintaining the tempo.

As an opener, Langer can set his own tempo. The second hot streak of his life - four hundreds in five Tests - seems less like an aberration and more like the arrival of, despite appearances to the contrary, a stonking Test batsman. He has now scored 3,000 runs in his Test career at an average - 43 - higher than Victor Trumper, Ian Chappell and Mark Taylor. He has hit 11 centuries - more than Bill Ponsford, Stan McCabe or Bobby Simpson. Australia's top order, supposedly their only weak link, suddenly looks a lot more convincing than the middle.

Meanwhile another West Australian, Damien Martyn, supplied further evidence at Adelaide that here is another stonking Test batsman. The challenge now is surely for him to nudge up to No. 4 in the order and turn his crisp essays in understatement into rounded, epic masterpieces.

Australia's selectors may also feel tempted, as the ages of the top six creep ever closer to their batting averages, to bring on yet another talented West Australian who has been made to wait too long on the sidelines. His name is Simon Katich, he bats with a feline ferocity, and he plays pulls and cuts that you and I could never hope to replicate - even in our sleep.

Chris Ryan is managing editor of Wisden Cricket Monthly and a former Darwin correspondent of the Melbourne Age. His column appears here every Tuesday.

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