How do you win a cricket World Cup? The answer to that question has been troubling humankind since the very dawn of time. The great minds of the planet came up snake-eyes for millions of years, until eventually cricket evolved from the innate human desire to hit things with sticks. This was, clearly, a major breakthrough in the epochal quest to solve the "How to Win a Cricket World Cup" quandary.

In the 19th century, in between working out how not to die of obvious diseases and wearing enormous underwear (and with a little help from the industrial revolution and British penal policy), this great species of ours developed international cricket. Another great stride forward, but the answer to the question remained frustratingly elusive for another 100 years, until cricket begat one-day cricket, which begat one-day internationals, which, in 1975, begat a World Cup.

Finally, Clive Lloyd's West Indians provided a deceptively simple answer - win all your matches. They confirmed their findings four years later, but in five of the eight tournaments since, the winners have lost one, two, or in Pakistan's case in 1992, three matches, before emerging triumphant. Crucially those defeats have not occurred in knockout matches - an important aspect of failure-scheduling to which England have yet to adjust.

Various victory methods have been employed by the ten tournament winners. Being clearly the best team has often proved a sound strategy (the fearsome West Indies in those first two tournaments; the untouchable Australians in 2003 and 2007), but has not been necessary. Staring into the abyss of group-stage elimination, then slapping yourself in the face with the caffeine-addled haddock of desperation and surging back to glory has worked on more than one occasion (India in 1983, when 17 for 5 against Zimbabwe; Pakistan in 1992, saved by the rain against England).

Dhoni's Indians in 2011 won by never failing with the bat (barring one major collapse, against South Africa, from 267 for 1, in a non-crucial match). Ranatunga's Sri Lankans rode on the revolutionary cavalierings of Jayasuriya and the timeless genius of Aravinda. Waiting for Mike Gatting to play the stupidest reverse sweep in human history did the job for Allan Border's 1987 Australians; Steve Waugh's 1999 Aussies found their path to nirvana by spluttering slightly less hard than South Africa in one of sport's greatest simultaneous chokes.

However, in ten tournaments, one tactic no World Cup winner has yet taken has been: have the most economical bowling attack in the competition.

The team with the most statistically parsimonious bowlers over the course of the tournament has never won the World Cup. Furthermore, only once in the last eight World Cups have the winners even had one of the top three economy rates (Australia, who were the second-most economical in 2003). And furtherfurthermore, only twice has the team with the most economical attack even finished as losing finalists (England, in 1979 and 1992).

(The full list of winners: 1975 West Indies: third most economical out of eight; 1979 West Indies: seventh out of eight; 1983 India: third out of eight; 1987 Australia: sixth out of eight; 1992 Pakistan: fourth out of nine; 1996 Sri Lanka: ninth out of 12; 1999 Australia: fifth out of 12; 2003 Australia: second out of 14; 2007 Australia: fifth out of 16; 2011 India: ninth out of 14.)

Clearly, bowling economy statistics in a single tournament emerge from a relatively small number of matches, and can be skewed by various factors such as:

One particularly good or bad match against one particularly good or bad team (and recent World Cups have had some properly bad teams).

An early elimination (India exited the 2007 tournament after just three matches, but ended up with the third highest batting run rate and the best economy rate, and could thus make a statistical argument for being the best side in the competition) (if they wanted to).

A very ropey pitch.

A very un-ropey pitch.

Kevin O'Brien; and

Chris Tavar .

Even more clearly, taking wickets is also a relevant factor in bowling. I do not think I am going out on too gangly a philosophical limb to argue that.

However, I think it remains statistically unexpected that the most economical bowling attack has never trundled home with the trophy. By contrast, the fastest-scoring batting team has won four World Cups (West Indies in 1979, Sri Lanka in 1996, Australia in 2007 and India in 2011), and the last five tournaments have been won by either the fastest or the second-fastest scorers (Australia were second in both 1999 and 2003).

The statistics wonks will no doubt be jumping all over this curiosity like a penguin penguining itself into a paddling pool full of herring. Bowlers in teams that find themselves near the top of the economy league in the latter stages in March will start plobbing down long hops and half-volleys in a desperate attempt to maximise their chances of winning. Perhaps. Or perhaps they will conclude that it is a statistical quirk of minimal relevance.

From an England point of view, if Eoin Morgan's men are to defy (a) the odds, (b) expectation, (c) their form of 2014, (d) the greater experience of most of their rivals, (e) their own nutty administrators, and (f) the precedent of two decades of World Cup rubbishness, they will, I think, need to break, or come close to breaking, this unnoticed niggardly bowling hoodoo. If a hoodoo can be a hoodoo without being noticed. Which it probably cannot.

Other teams have the proven batting firepower to compensate for any bowling breakdowns. England have more batting firepower than they have traditionally trusted themselves with, plus a new skipper and new-look team, but their most likely recipe for success remains the bowling excellence that almost won them the Champions Trophy in 2013, and which, as I write, has just demolished India's batting in Brisbane. Stuart Broad and James Anderson reunited for the first time in more than 18 months. Steven Finn taking more than two wickets in an ODI for the first time since early 2013. Bowling out a team for less than 160 outside England for only the third time this decade. Bowling out an opposing team in Australia for their lowest total since skittling Sri Lanka for 99 at the Gabba in January 1999, 38 matches ago. No captains sacked or autobiographies published for ages

Confectionery Stall prediction: Quarter-final exit.

Whether or not your bowlers are or are not economical matters little if one of your players hits 149 in 44 balls. The various records splattered by AB de Villiers' scoreboard-melting onslaught on Saturday have been listed elsewhere.

De Villiers' statistics have become as spectacular as his strokeplay, his versatility as impressive as his consistency - he has played two of this millennium's four slowest Test innings of more than 180 balls, including the longest recorded Test innings without a boundary.

He currently has the highest average as a wicketkeeper-batsman in both Tests (58.2) and ODIs (70.5) (minimum ten innings as designated keeper). This decade, his ODI average of 67.9 from 82 innings is more than 10 ahead of his nearest challengers, Hashim Amla and MS Dhoni.

AB de Villiers raises his arms after a stunning 31-ball hundred Gallo Images

His strike rate is 106, the sixth best of the 194 players who have batted ten or more times in the top six in ODIs in the 2010s. None of the five men ahead of him has played more than 40 innings; of the other 11 players with a strike rate of over 95, none averages more than 40.

Cricket literature's founding romantic Neville Cardus and the undisputed Shakespeare of Stats Bill Frindall must be simultaneously exploding with delight in the celestial press box. A rare combination.

What made de Villiers' innings on Saturday slightly unusual (other than its comprehensive demolition of the record books, of course) was that if he has a relative weakness in ODIs, it is in the last ten overs. This decade, until adding his new chapter to the encyclopaedia of cricketing ballistics, he had averaged 36.7 in overs 40-50 (decent, and with an impressive strike rate of around 150, but behind several others, notably Dhoni, who averages almost 60 in the final ten overs since 2010).

In overs 1 to 40, however, de Villiers' numbers are properly Bradmanesque - he averages 97.3 this decade. Write that down. 97.3. And then write down how you would try to get him out without the prospect of a sandwich or the end-of-match presentation looming within ten overs' time. Michael Hussey (69.9) and Amla (65.2) are the next best first-40-overs players. If de Villiers comes in early, he bats long. If he comes in late, he bats like a volcano. He is the ultimate 21st-century batsman - technician, artist, chameleon, magician. If only he batted for his average in the final few overs, he'd be clocking up some really tidy numbers.

(These last stats exclude run-outs. Statsguru's secret ball-by-ball facility simply won't play ball on the run-outs. The flighty little temptress. But the points all stand.)