The Journey of a Cult tends to be defined by clear stages.
An inspiring figure or figureheads propose a revolutionary approach that promises a cure for alienated and vulnerable people.
And so it goes. They’re getting ready to confront the system down in Brisbane. Pressure is mounting. Signs of trouble appear from the sidelines. A lone figure, naked, shivering, the slogan POSITIVE INTENT written on his body in chicken blood, has stumbled through the lines and is being led away in secrecy towards an inconclusive loan stint elsewhere.
Remember the start, when optimism reigned? The initial phase, of Bazball without brains.
Movement founders promise a fresh beginning, a brighter tomorrow, love, redemption within a community united in belief in the big idea.
How did it feel initially? A team united enjoying success. Body art. Muscles. Jawlines. Elite male wellness energy. Admittedly, England’s players often say Bazball doesn’t actually exist, which is funny because if it doesn’t exist, what was that spectacle?
But we know its essence. It’s the player attempting a move so outrageous it has to be pixelated. It’s the excitement of the captain in ultimate mode, a demeanor suggesting: pensive Nordic god, rugged appearance, natural look, so authentically Modern Savage you half-expect to look down and see him playing in the field shirtless holding a fish.
It’s the batsman continuing to have permission to talk in press conferences, out there looking like a cheerful animal formally attired, uttering phrases such as we are actively deconstructing the orange. Certainly, the atmosphere, initially, was uplifting.
Growth phase. Unity enforced via memorization of mantras. These ideas can appear contradictory as a test of “true belief”.
Am I alone? The reaction, the fury, the sense of betrayal following the initial loss feels overblown, too much. The batting collapsed on the field, as they often do in Australia. They were savaged in the field in a short span when tactics failed, carved around by Travis Head playing aggressively but smarter, adjusting to the pitch, a man playing with aura.
Currently, we see the attacks, the frustration, the perception of the team as a disgrace. The consensus is that defeat must be total, they should be dismantled, to be scoured, flame-throwered, defeated by the vengeful purity of the pace attack, the conventional tactics of Scott Boland, marking successes modestly like he’s just been given a nice new fishing rod. How will they respond?
Problems arise because of mistakes. However, faults are ignored. It turns to anger towards critics.
Ultimately, half a week out the next match, we have now reached an intriguing moment in the lifespan of this approach. They might succeed overseas in a blur of adrenal disruption. Alternatively, failure may follow. In case of defeat it appears we really might be entering the death cult phase.
Before that happens, a couple of points to consider about this. In the past, at the start, of passion and hope, an piece was published labeling it a movement. Criticism followed, which demonstrated since it’s clear a method to show that it’s not a closed group is when its acolytes respond with anger rejecting criticism of its truths.
Recent events in the last few days are fascinating. It seems that hating Bazball has turned into a movement. Online outrage is widespread, critical analysts, pictures of upset followers overseas missing out on play, like a room full of investors demanding recourse.
On the other hand, exists the larger scene of the host’s complex more culturally hard-wired exasperation at these weirdly passive-aggressive buccaneers, claiming, the methods you value and have developed as one way of separating yourself from others, it’s just a joke after all.
This is the core issue. All movements are similar. The style was a trend as the game has its own culture. Or rather, the team has long been exclusive, a group, a private event, a restricted environment with two hundred years of tradition and mystery supporting it. This has always been a place where power and access are hoarded. It’s the imperial sport of the British, the early image-makers. And guess what, Britain is itself a cult, a structure of hidden ranks, a place that literally still has a king.
The team have been enclosed in this system from a young age. Seeking change, to foster positivity, they are simply replicating their upbringing, building another enclosure, a closed circle, but doing it this time with a new team and a leader who wants you to be yourself if you fit the mold.
Live where your feet are. Confront risks. But no matter how fast and far you run, you’re always basically in the same place.
Reflecting on this, it might be appropriate to have some sympathy for the approach, to acknowledge its merits, of which there are many. How to define it? Promoting liberation. Questioning traditions. Batting aggressively|Attacking with
Elara Vance is an amateur astronomer and astrophotographer who shares her passion for the cosmos through detailed guides and stunning celestial imagery.