Brad Haddin and a crash course of how winners are made

Brad Haddin became the ideal deputy to the captain - the counter balance to Misbah's inherent conservatism © Getty

Just over a year ago, on the much missed pages of Grantland, Bryan Curtis wrote about Moneyball II - the second statistical war. Over the previous two decades the first war - the one related to the inner workings of franchises in American sports - had been won by analytics brigade; the nerds if you will: more than three quarters of the General Managers in baseball and basketball right now never played professionally. The second war, the one for narrative, though, was to be fought over in the media, out in the open. And unsurprisingly, the jocks still held onto their set of beliefs, each side painting the other in shades of black and white, but never grey. Each side presenting itself as the centrist in the fight against extremism.

Thus the idea that the nerds only look at the tangibles gained root. The failures of Houston Rockets - forbearers of the nerd revolution in the NBA - become symptomatic of a team that only looks at numbers, and nothing else; while the success of Golden State Warriors - equally reliant on analytics, but unwilling to disregard the intangibles - is undermined, or even ignored.

And yet the lesson from the Warriors and the San Antonio Spurs is that while phrases like team chemistry may be intangible, they too can be researched and worked upon, and play a far greater role in a team's success than an outsider might realize. And if there are still agnostics or atheists, it only takes a fortnight in a dressing room to turn them into believers.

There were a multitude of reasons for Islamabad United's victory in the Pakistan Super League - a lot of which would generally be considered intangibles. The control provided by Wasim Akram, the support provided by him to everyone in the dressing room, and the motivation that he elicited, were the things that created the culture of the franchise - and it wasn't a surprise that the two finalists both had legendary mentors.

In addition, the freedom from the owners, a support staff that surprised the Pakistani players with how competent and different (i.e. Australian) it was, and a group of players who all peaked when the stakes got big, and lived up to their pre-tournament aim of the dressing room having "no bad apples", all contributed to it. The old Steve Archibald quote about team spirit being "an illusion only glimpsed in victory" was repeatedly proven wrong in this dressing room - the fact that all teams were staying in the same hotel in Dubai allowed one to compare and contrast exactly that.

But perhaps more than anyone, the unheralded key to success was Errol Alcott - the legendary Australian physio - who was anointed the man of the tournament by Misbah-ul-Haq for continuing to get eleven players out on the field, even when far fewer were fit enough to play. All these are things that have been written upon by Dean Jones and Misbah, probably the two most significant reasons for Islamabad's success, in recent weeks.

But one of the more under-discussed men may have held the greatest importance after the coach and the captain. The reason Brad Haddin was picked as early as the Diamond round of the draft, despite an unimpressive recent record in Asia, had a lot to do with the intangibles: the fact that he had been considered a major reason for the sharp turnaround of the Australian team since the lows of the spring of 2013; the fact that he refused the Australian captaincy, because he didn't believe that was necessarily the best thing for the team.

When I elaborated to him that one of the major reasons for us selecting him was his influence on the dressing room and how he had supposedly changed the Australian dressing room, his response was typical, "don't worry mate, I'll change this dressing room too."

Thus over the course of the tournament, he became the living embodiment of the contrast between Pakistan cricket right now, and where it wants to be: neither as over-analytical as Misbah, nor as prone to the whims of intuition as most of Pakistan cricket. He became the ideal deputy to the captain - the counter balance to Misbah's inherent conservatism. He started off the tournament as the lone foreigner outside the starting XI, yet he never complained; in fact, he worked tirelessly to improve the keeping of Sami Billings, the man playing in his stead - again, a far cry from what you would expect from a Pakistani cricketer with his resume to do.

He soon became the one consistent voice in team meetings beyond the usual suspects, informing everyone that the losses in the league stage were not to be taken to heart, forever reminding everyone that in terms of pure skill Islamabad had the best bunch, forever reminding everyone how tournaments were won - a case made stronger by all he had achieved prior to this tournament. Thus he gave a crash course to everyone on how winners were made; and when informed of his reputation as the epitome of the Australia that all neutrals and fans of other teams hated, he took that, obviously, as a compliment.

Brad Haddin's contribution was crucial in Islamabad United's victory in the Pakistan Super League © Getty

Any and every thing in the team was seen with optimism. When, prior to the first play-off game against Karachi, the broadcasters ran a graphic showing how Islamabad's XI in one of the games was the sixth oldest to ever play T20 cricket, he looked up from the treatment table and had some choice words to say - pointing out that two of the teams in that top ten had reached the final of the BBL; his argument being if you are fit enough, you are young enough.

By the play-offs he was being upstaged somewhat in the team meetings - first by Samuel Badree (with Andre Russell as his sidekick) delivering the best dressing room speech since Al Pacino in Any Given Sunday prior to the play-off win against Peshawar; and then by the captain during the innings break in the final, with his impassioned plea to logic and sensibility. But on the field, he became the MVP - scoring three fifties in the final four games, the four games in which Islamabad knocked each one of the other teams out.

And in between all that he provided the coup de grace. As we walked to where the team was celebrating after the win against Peshawar to reach the final, he turned towards me and said, "see, I told you I'd change this dressing room too." My flabbergasted response being there was still one more mountain to climb, to which his reply was, "Don't worry mate, we'll win the final, and I'll score you some runs too."

Over the next two days I wondered if this was supreme confidence, or the arrogance of an Australian - unsure of what to make of that conversation. Throughout the tournament he had maintained that once he started batting up the order, all our problems would be sorted, but even by those standards this was a bit strong.

But two days later, as he went on an assault in the final against Quetta Gladiators, I realized why Australia continue to have the mentality they do in every sport. Nothing but the best will do, and in their minds they will always be the best. Belief may be an intangible, but it's a pretty powerful thing. Even the nerds realize that, no matter what the jocks might say.

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