Is England's inner dog a chihuahua?

It was not just the crushing margin of defeat at the hands of Australia in the final of the tri-series that sparked the debate, but the performance of players and coaches at media conferences throughout the tournament.

To see Jos Buttler talking about his match-defining partnership with James Taylor after the victory over India in Perth was to see a passable impression of Hugh Grant playing, well, Hugh Grant: impossibly modest, softly spoken, genuinely bashful, somewhat bumbling and deeply uncomfortable in the spotlight. It was really quite charming.

But is charm a valuable quality in modern, professional sport? Is there room for it?

Conventional wisdom would have us believe that there is not. Conventional wisdom would have us believe that modern cricketers have to bristle with aggression; that they must have the snake eyes of Clint Eastwood, the vocabulary of a Tourette's sufferer and the body language of a boxer at a weigh-in.

But conventional wisdom is often wrong. The problem is in equating verbal aggression with mental fortitude, snarling with determination.

They are not the same thing. As the examples of Hashim Amla, Roger Federer or Rahul Dravid show us, it is quite possible to have the steel without the snarl.

Would Don Bradman have scored more runs had he belittled his opponents in the field? Would he have been any more out if Eric Hollies had called him a four-letter word after bowling him with that googly? Would Joel Garner's yorker have been any more devastating had he told the batsman to prepare for broken f****** toes?

Since James Anderson reined in his behaviour following Jadeja-gate, his performances have, if anything, improved. Far from needing the extra spur provided by verbal duels with batsman, the evidence would suggest he is a better bowler when he simply concentrates on his craft and leaves the ball to do the talking.

Indeed, you wonder if those most likely to swagger and sledge are actually the soft ones. The ones who feel the need to overcompensate for their insecurity by overtly demonstrating their toughness. It's the difference between bravado and bravery.

The example of Buttler is interesting. It is probably too early to make conclusions about his career but, to date, it seems he thrives under pressure. He has not always been successful but, with his high-risk style and the role England have asked him to play, a high degree of failure is probably inevitable. But throughout his career, at domestic and international level, he has often produced his best when challenged.

His 61-ball century against Sri Lanka at Lord's came with his side under pressure (they lost), while his partnership with Taylor came after England had slumped to 66 for 5. He might well have scored a century on Test debut, too, had he been more motivated by personal milestones than the team's progress. He has grit and determination; he just channels it towards his cricket and knows that empty rhetoric in press conferences achieves nothing. You might even say his bite is worse than his bark.

"This England team might remind us that cricket can be hard, beautiful and entertaining all at the same time and that you should be able to watch it with your grandparents or grandchildren without concern"

Some used to say that Ian Bell lacked the toughness to prosper in international cricket. They used to point at his record and suggest many of the runs had come when conditions were at their easiest. And there was, for a time, a grain of truth in such claims.

Not any more. Bell silenced most critics with his Ashes-winning exploits in the summer of 2013 and recently became the most prolific run-scorer in England's ODI history. He has not changed his character to do this; he has not abused opponents or argued with umpires. He has simply worked hard and concentrated on his own skills. He reminds us that all sorts of characters can flourish in cricket. You don't have to fabricate an abrasive personality if it is not there.

It is a similar story with several other members of this new-look England side. The likes of Chris Woakes, Moeen Ali and Gary Ballance are all coaches' dreams: low-maintenance, hard-working young cricketers who are as unlikely to get involved in a stand-off on the pitch as they are to appear in reality TV shows. They are naturally modest players who want to let their cricket do the talking.

Does this mean they - and the likes of Taylor, Alex Hales and Steven Finn - will shy away from the fray when the battle is at its most intense?

There is no evidence to support that theory. The way Moeen and Ballance have taken to international cricket - both scored centuries in their second Tests and have gone on to back-up such first impressions - suggests they thrive in the environment, while Hales remains England's only T20 century-maker. Taylor flourished as captain of Nottinghamshire last season and has scored four half-centuries in nine innings since breaking back into the ODI side. He might be a future England captain.

Yes, some of them will probably not make the grade. And yes, Woakes did appear to make some poor choices during his last over, which cost 24, of the final in Perth. But failure can be due to technique and skill as much as temperament. To claim players are "soft" - as Shane Warne did recently of Mitchell Starc - is very often simplistic. You can be quietly ruthless just as you can be loudly inane.

Woakes' temperament is the quality most often praised by his coaches. Rather than blaming his temperament, there is more evidence to suggest he does not currently have a full set of white-ball skills: his lack of a yorker has been an issue for some time. His performances during the Test series against India and in earlier ODI matches on this tour suggest he has an excellent temperament. Quiet, yes. Soft, no.

The England team are invariably disliked around the world. Some reasons are pretty good - the way they bleated about Mankading but excused time-wasting, for example - and some are less so, such as historical injustices relating to the empire and imperialism.

But this new bunch might just change that a little. They might just remind us that you can play hard without threatening to break arms, that you can win without gloating and lose without blaming the umpires, the pitch, the toss or the presence of Jupiter in the house of Orion. They might remind us that cricket can be hard and beautiful and entertaining all at the same time and that you should be able to watch it with your grandparents or grandchildren without concern. They might remind us that nice guys can come first and that those who say different are just looking to excuse their own poor behaviour.

This England team may well not be good enough to win the World Cup; they are hard enough.