Andrew Alderson: Simplicity key for Wright

Former New Zealand cricket captain John Wright at the announcement of his appointment as coach of the Black Caps. Photo / Greg Bowker

Today John Wright gets the chance to start proving he can resurrect the New Zealand cricket team with the series against Pakistan.

The short time frame to adapt won't worry him; he had three days to prepare to coach India against Zimbabwe when he first took over there.

What sort of coach will Wright be? What mentoring style will he adopt? Will it be the hard-nosed approach of a Sir Alex Ferguson; the organised platform of a Wayne Bennett; the measured methods of a Sir Brian Lochore; or the more irreverent stance of a Bob Cunis, the New Zealand coach when Wright was test skipper between 1988 and 1990?

His playing nickname of "Shake" - as in what you do with your cricket coffin to fit your gear in at the end of the day - indicates the Bennett approach might be a struggle but evidence suggests the Ferguson, Lochore and Cunis philosophies could all feature.

If anything was learnt from Wright's successful Indian tenure, it was that he knows how to listen and adapt his behaviour, depending on the player.

However, he has firm views on putting country first - before the team, the individual or any Indian Premier League franchise. Take this quote from his first autobiography Christmas in Rarotonga in 1990 - arguably the most entertaining reflection on a career that a New Zealand sportsperson has produced. It is hard not to like a cricket book dedicated "to my thigh pad".

"I believe that having worked our bums off to lose the reputation as international cricket's soft touch, we should think twice before we turn our backs on those attributes of gutsy competitiveness, doggedness, hanging in there and refusing to lie down which, prosaic though they may be, are the strengths and foundations of our success.

"Our critics should bear in mind that if the international pecking order was determined purely on the basis of available natural talent, New Zealand could still be at the foot of the ladder."

Yikes ... that might be appropriate in the dressing room this afternoon. But it's unlikely he'll play that sort of card; not with the fragile transition of getting to know the players better.

He knows the value of good spirit forged in the shed - but will still be mindful of his expected team attitude, seeing the job is now on his terms rather than being forced to kowtow to someone else's management structure.

It is sometimes forgotten that Wright was one of the country's first professional cricketers, playing for Derbyshire from 1977-88. He knows the grind, what it takes to play day-in, day-out.

Modern players could learn from that. His approach to coaching has had a relatively simple mindset: don't use the term "don't" - as in "play straight" rather than "don't hook" - and adhere to the Lord Cowdrey mantra which says for every hour in the gym, spend three hours practising cricket skills. Sounds logical.

There is a lighter side to Wright, too, that hopefully won't be lost, provided he establishes a rapport with the players.

He used to be one of the best pranksters. The prawns in Rod Marsh's wicket-keeping gloves during an Australian tour had Wright's fingerprints on them.

Speaking about the incident on the From Cloth Cap to Helmet documentary of the mid-1990s, Wright said all he could smell was rotten prawns and disinfectant when Marsh passed by, seething and refusing to speak to him.

He was also guilty of arson on coach Cunis' white floppy hat in the nets on one tour, using a lighter and a cardboard cricket ball carton as ignition, much to the team's amusement. A realistic fake snake was known to "slither" its way into New Zealand gear bags on the subcontinent as well.

That indicates Wright has a good grasp of the meaning of mateship from bygone eras. Hopefully some of that can translate into the current era, albeit in a coach-to-player manner rather than as "one of the boys".

At 56, this could be Wright's last chance to forge a career in the international arena before he moves to "consultant" status. Cricket has been his life, so there's no lack of passion.

He addressed that issue in his second autobiography Indian Summers in 2006.

He talks about "Limelight Deprivation Syndrome" at the end of his playing career and an existence trying to cut it in the business world of Fletcher Challenge, Placemakers and Ernest Adams.

That career culminated in his having to fly from Christchurch to explain to the woman in charge of the Henderson Pak'n Save cakestand why they had delivered pink rather than white meringues.

It wasn't long before he was coaching Kent. He explained that he knew then, as he does now, he would always rather be deafened by the sound of a roaring crowd than the ticking of a clock at a desk.