Think about the way New Zealand went about their work against Australia in the field yesterday. Apart from a brief flurry at the top of the order from the dangerous David Warner and Aaron Finch, they harried Australia to distraction and hemmed them in.
Rather than the short boundaries offering easy relief, they instead gave a sense of being claustrophobic. New Zealand squeezed and Australia split.
First they did it gently, even artfully, using the skills and guile Daniel Vettori has accumulated over close to two decades of international competition.
Then they did it by relentlessly attacking when a crack was opened. Not for Brendon McCullum the usual method of working your fourth and fifth bowlers into the game when the lacquer had worn off the new balls.
Third seamer Adam Milne didn't get a bowl until Australia were nine down and Corey Anderson bowled a sum total of two balls, one of which produced the final wicket - a Brad Haddin slice to sub fielder Tom Latham.
This was not an indication that McCullum does not have faith in his change bowlers - his faith in all 14 of his squad mates appears unwavering - but rather that he saw an inch and was going to take a mile.
On came Trent Boult for a second spell instead of Milne. Bang went the stumps of Glenn Maxwell and Mitchell Marsh.
"A couple of lucky drag-ons," Boult deadpanned. Hardly. Australia were exposed and New Zealand went for the jugular.
Every field placement, whether it was a close catcher - and there were plenty of them - or a boundary rider, was done for a purpose. McCullum is often described as an instinctive captain, and that may be so, but it implies a seat-of-your-pants approach and that tells only half the story.
New Zealand's performance with the ball and in the field has proven that the New Zealand brainstrust have far more going for them than McCullum's gut feel. They also strategise superbly. Look at the fields set for Stephen Smith and Michael Clarke, two batsmen who love to hit inside out through the covers. They found balls in that channel, but were met with field sets that screamed, "we know what you want to do".
But one-day cricket is a game of two halves.
Because Australia found themselves defending such a meagre total, Clarke was forced into flat-out attack as well. Suddenly, after applying the vice for so long, New Zealand's batsmen found it turned on them.
Like McCullum, Clarke was constantly asking questions and the answer was usually "bowled Mitchell Starc".
Pressure is a strange thing. For some it sharpens the senses - fight or flight - for others it clouds. Yesterday, Mike Hesson got a vivid demonstration of which of his players were batting with uncluttered minds (there were only two), and which need a boost in confidence over the next fortnight.
There can now be no doubt over Kane Williamson's pedigree, nor his clear thinking. On the day New Zealand's greatest batsman, Martin Crowe, was inducted into the Hall of Fame, it was fitting to see his heir apparent take his team home.
Having seen carnage at the other end, Williamson could have been forgiven for hitting the panic button. Instead, he slowed down his thinking.
His 10th-wicket partner, Boult, admitted he was wound up like a coil when he walked to the wicket. Williamson calmed him down, told him it was just two balls - simplified it.
Then, facing Pat Cummins, he again thought in clear, simple terms: "I was looking to hit a boundary."
He did, a six. It was one of the shorter, yet most memorable sixes in New Zealand cricket history.
Yes, New Zealand might have fallen over the line. Yes, the batting order suddenly has some questions to answer, particularly should they face Australia in a big, big game later in the tournament. But think back to 2pm yesterday. If somebody had offered a one-wicket win against the No1-ranked team in the world, would you have taken it?
Of course you would. As another team that plays here often would say — "A win's a win."
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