Where have the crisis men gone?

If there has been a failing among New Zealand cricket teams since 1990, it has been the continuing inability to unearth players capable of assessing situations and playing according to the need of the hour at critical times in a match.

The capitulation at the hands of Shoaib Akhtar in the second innings at Wellington, in which seven wickets went down for eight runs, is the classic example of New Zealand losing the plot in a key moment of a match. Shoaib had nearly finished his first spell of the day when Mark Richardson launched into an uncharacteristic drive that resulted in his dismissal, caught behind by Moin Khan.

In both Tests of the series, New Zealand were in a dominant position at the end of the first innings: in the first Test, Stephen Fleming's 192 and Daniel Vettori's maiden Test century put them in command, while Richardson and Jacob Oram laid the foundation in the second. However, instead of converting those advantages into wins, they managed to botch their chances with collapses in their second innings. Both those batting displays smacked of complacency.

The situation at Wellington cried out for someone in the mould of Jeremy Coney, who, in 1980s, was quite an expert at first halting the slide, and then putting the pressure back on the opposition with quick runs when the team needed them. He did it not only in Tests but in one-day internationals as well.

It is all very well to be a strokeplayer, as Scott Styris and Craig McMillan are, but with that freedom to push the pace of scoring there also comes a responsibility to assess the state of a match, and to act according to it. It wouldn't have mattered if New Zealand had scored no runs for an hour when Shoaib was at his fiery best. The likelihood was that Shoaib would have tired, and Inzamam-ul-Haq would have been forced to replace him. The need was for the New Zealand batsmen to ride that torrid spell, be patient, and think only about survival.

But that ability is sorely missing among the New Zealanders at the moment. They have been found wanting too often when under pressure. What happened at Wellington has occurred so many times earlier against Pakistan that there can be no element of surprise in what Pakistan dish up in tight situations.

While the absence of Shane Bond was the most talked-about aspect of the New Zealand side for the series, Nathan Astle's unavailability was of greater consequence. Astle knows how to fight and, having been through the hard times of the mid-1990s, appreciates what is required. His effort in getting out of his sickbed to help save the first Test in India in October was the most recent demonstration of that quality.

The other factor about the series that disappointed was the lack of penetration in the attack. Just as the batsmen allowed their minds to wander at crucial stages, the bowlers too were unable to make Pakistan's batsmen work for their runs. At times they did it well, especially in the first innings at Wellington, but when the demand was even greater in the second innings, they regularly fed the strengths of Inzamam and Yousuf Youhana.

Pakistan deserved to win the series. They showed better attention to detail, greater understanding of what was required to first save, and then win, a match. They showed the first signs of a new generation of Pakistani players who have all the capabilities of matching some of the famous names from the past.

The challenge for John Bracewell is clear. A change of approach, an understanding of match situations, and some good old-fashioned fighting instinct is needed to avoid the inconsistency that is a blight on New Zealand's cricket both in Tests and ODIs.