Mounjaro, like Ozempic and other tirzepatides, is an extremely useful tool for those of us needing help to lose weight. There are, however, a number of problems with it, aside from its exorbitant cost. The first of these is the fact that, to have the desired effect, it is necessary to increase the weekly dose (and cost) on a regular basis. Typically, the dose required in the third month will be three times that required in the first, and the maximum dose will be six times the starting point if it is to maintain its effectiveness. Secondly, as the dose increases, so do the side-effects – everything from extreme stomach discomfort to constipation, nausea and fatigue. Thirdly, and perhaps most importantly, there is a tendency for doctors to prescribe it as a magic bullet, without simultaneously requiring the patient to work with a dietician or exercise more frequently – fundamental elements in the creation of the original problem. The result of all this tends to be that, as patients reach the maximum dose they have no exit strategy, they are often suffering physical side-effects, they are broke, and they lack a plan to return to a healthy drug-free lifestyle.
And so we come to the England Test cricket team in the BB era (Before Baz). It was blessed with a core of four quite exceptional cricketers in Root, Stokes, Anderson and Broad, whose combination of talent, technique, application and sheer hard work brought them to the pinnacle of the game. But it was plain for all to see that the rest of the team was, as everyone could see, and the results proved, a bit of a shitshow. It was clear that a significant change was needed.
Self Belief – the Wonder Drug
Thus it was that Dr McCullum was appointed, arriving with a bag loaded with his new wonder-drug, “self-belief”. Its performance-enhancing characteristics included that ability to eliminate fear, to enjoy life, to run towards the danger, and, consequently, to intimidate all opposition. As is generally the case with all new drugs, nothing was mentioned of any negative side-effects at the time. He immediately prescribed it to every member of the team, with varied results. Broad and Anderson, approaching the end of their careers, decided that they were doing OK anyway and really didn’t have much need for it. Root and Stokes gave it a go for a while, but then realised that they actually felt better without it, and returned to their previous approach of application and hard work. But the rest of the team lapped it up; and, as is often the case with Mounjaro, the initial results were spectacular. They discovered that they could really enjoy their cricket and life in general, that they could play much better than they had believed before, and that, as a team, they felt the collective highs of success that they had never experienced before.
The fans, weary of so much disappointment, were overjoyed at such a sudden reversal, and Dr McCullum was immediately feted as the guru who had discovered the secret of eternal life. The message, both sub and supra liminally, became one of “I am the way and the light, you shall have no other false idols before me”, and those not worshipping at the shrine of Baz were cast out and replaced with believers as acolytes. Those who had previously coached in fundamental techniques were replaced with those who could spread the self-belief gospel more effectively, as the dosage was constantly increased.
As time passed and cracks started to appear, the former high priests, who carried within them the long history and experience of Test cricket in their very beings, were dismissed and relegated to the “has-beens” scrap heap if they did not adhere to the wise words of Baz. “Increase the dose” appeared to be his solution to any perceived shortcomings.
Poor returns as a player in Australia
And so it was that he arrived in the land down under to spread the word. A land where, in the 9 Test matches he had played, he had been on the losing side 7 times, won just once, by 7 runs, and had never scored a century. Perhaps he had something to prove – that belief trumped hard work, that attitude overcame application, and that, no matter what, his word was the true way. He refused to notice that the side-effects of his drug regime were becoming apparent for everyone else to see, that there was a new and challenging environment to deal with, or that anyone outside of his bubble of sycophants could offer him anything of value.
The result, as with gurus so often, was that all the false hope was blown away, that reality re-asserted itself, and that, after all, the emperor had no clothes. So much so that he conceded that his team’s best cricket was played in the last two days of the third Test, when they had generally stopped taking the drugs (although Duckett and Smith were still suffering residual effects).
Surely it is time for change? Time to have a coach who, while understanding that self-belief is an important factor, so are technique, discipline, hard work and a system below where the skills needed for Test cricket are truly nurtured and rewarded.
To quote a friend who was very blunt in his approach “If England ever again come to Adelaide without a specialist spinner, they can fuck off and never come back.”
The days of Baz are over – let “proper cricket” back in, please, England.
