We have to thank the late Bob Monkhouse for one of the finest, funniest of all quips. “They laughed at me when I said I wanted to be a comedian,” he said. “Well they’re not laughing now.” And how we chuckled at young Steve Smith when, barely a year out of his teens, he came into the Australia side and appeared to suggest his role was not so much to bat or bowl but primarily to act as court jester to lift spirits in a flagging team.

We all giggled even more at the sight of him crabbing his way across the crease to fling his bat wantonly and generally unsuccessfully outside off stump, and then, with the ball, send down flighted leg-break filth designed exclusively, it appeared, to trap Ian Bell in the most embarrassing way possible. He should have had a bladder on a stick and bells on his baggy green.

Except no one outside Australia is laughing now as Smith has experienced an outstanding year to the extent that while his bowling is consigned to an afterthought, he has shot up the Test batting rankings to fourth, behind Kumar Sangakkara, AB de Villiers and Hashim Amla. With Michael Clarke still injured, Smith is captain of his country in Test matches and one-day internationals.

His contribution was recognised on Tuesday when he won the Allan Border Medal, awarded to Australia’s player of the year.

With his ODI century against England in Hobart last week, he became the only person to make a hundred on debut as captain in both those formats. His performance in the past 12 months, particularly the back end of the year, has been phenomenal: four hundreds and three half-centuries in his past nine Test innings; three ODI hundreds and three half‑centuries in the same period.

All this he has achieved by being different, or at least by not being governed by convention. He does not play by the rules of classical batsmanship. Smith is what we called a Legside Lennie, someone for whom the off side is that favoured by cissies. So he takes up residence on off stump and works the ball relentlessly, from on the stumps and even beyond, to the on side. If bowlers then try to counter by pursuing what old pros used to term a nagging width, he frees up his arms and flays it away that side, too, unafraid then of being the cissie. He has an uncanny knack of hitting the ball into unorthodox places.

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In this he reminds me of Javed Miandad, who at his best could drive opposition to distraction by manoeuvring the ball around the field. Bowling to the Pakistan genius could be testing. He would almost tease with his pads (“Here they are, hit them …”) and the clever bowler would not take the bait, keeping a wider line. But then creeps in the thought that maybe, cunningly, one could be sneaked into his pads. So in it goes, and – ping – away goes the ball with a flick of the wrist, Javed’s grin beams out, and the bowler curses his idiocy for falling for it yet again.

Smith gives the bowler the same glimmer of hope but at the moment simply does not miss. If he has added patience where once there was impetuosity, and can ignore the bowler who wants to bore him out, then he will be a formidable batsman over time, undone maybe by reverse swing – but only if delivered at Waqar-ish pace – or clever fields.

That someone of his talent has been able to flourish appears to have been despite, rather than because of the Australian system. A couple of weeks ago I asked Trent Woodhill, who first saw him as a 15-year-old at junior levels and who has coached David Warner and, in India, Virat Kohli, what was so special about Smith. “What set him out was his hand/eye skills, his competitive spirit and his unusual batting technique,” he told me. “Fourth stump to Steve was inevitably hit through the leg side with strong wrists, from what I came to recognise as a very Indian setup and style. When he was a late teenager this was seen as a future weakness by Cricket Australia coaches and former greats.

“With me seeing his natural ability and thinking how refreshing it was, there became a constant interaction between us about how others were trying to change it and what should he do. We grooved his game together, usually beyond the glare of others who felt they had better qualifications to advise and he would have sporadic periods of success.

“After several non-progressive forced winter academy stints at the centre of excellence, a third attempt finally proved successful. I asked him what orchestrated the change and he replied he stopped listening to the coaches and started to revisit his natural technique. This coupled with his competitive nature started to produce results. He now has complete ownership of his game and, with his unwavering self-belief, his natural talent has shone through.”

So now it is down to the bowlers, a conundrum to work out. It will be instructive to watch. No bowler dislikes seeing unorthodoxy; they just hate it when it works. Woodhill, though, is confident that whatever comes at Smith he will be able to cope, as Warner has managed, and Kohli has started to do. “They are so competitive, those three,” Woodhill told me, “they will always find a way.” And, writing this, a line from an Elkie Brooks song comes to mind: “No more the fool, no more the clown. Those days are gone now.”

• This article was corrected on 27 January 2015 to reflect the fact that the Allan Border Medal is awarded to Australia’s overall player of the year