DARREN Lehmann. Known larrikin. Subscriber of the national hierarchical code.

On Monday, I felt the repercussions of what happens when you step out of line and lose sight of your official standing in the code as a player who does not feature on a Channel 9 lithograph.

In response to my article that questioned Lehmann’s message in the media that Matt Renshaw was no guarantee to hold his place as a starter for the opening test in India – even though his last innings was a beautifully crafted 184 on a turning SCG wicket – he offered up this as a warning that I was to shut it.

“I don’t listen to Brett - he wasn’t a very good player”

Darren Lehmann is no fan of Brett Geeves as a player... or columnist. Source: News Corp Australia

Have you ever been to India and experienced the ugly way in which the traffic flows?

The size of your vehicle, in India, will determine the ease in which you commute around its crowded streets.

When you step back and watch it, it’s ugly, yet flows with a beauty that suggests everyone knows their role.

Dogs give way to humans. Humans give way to rickshaws. Rickshaws give way to cars. Cars give way to buses. Buses give way to trucks. And everyone gives way to the elephants and cows that roam the streets as they are untouchable gods.

This principle provides the foundation for the nations cricket code.

Grade players and its coaches give way to second XI players by laughing at their meek jokes and listening to their name dropping of state-based players and coaches while they add ‘c**k’ to the end of every sentence.

I do hope it is explained that this is not how to interact with people in the real world.

They are like the player from your club who comes back from his three-month league stint with a broad Cockney accent. It’s fake, and you hate him for it.

Second XI players give way to those that have played first class games.

They lurk around the change rooms hoping to be invited to the exclusive lunch, coffee, golf and FIFA club of the first class players.

By loitering long enough, they may also be gifted a pair of season old pads and gloves or be given a bat that is deemed not worthy of first-class standard and described by the first class player as ‘putrid, c**k’ by failing the all important flick-the-middle-with-your-fingernail-rebound Test.

They know this effective testing mechanism through shared knowledge of an Australian fringe player telling the story of how Sachin tests his bats.

First class players give way to Australian players - quite literally.

For the first time in Sheffield Shield history we saw Doug Bollinger replace Mitchell Starc in the middle of a game so as not to overload Starc’s body with too many overs before the home South African series.

Doug? Well he got the indignity of wearing that bright orange vest that screamed on the day “Today I’m just a pawn in the chess board of the code”.

Sure, lets disrespect Shield cricket some more, because who cares if the guinea pigs get hit by a pink ball at night time.

And then there are the Aussies. Periphery vision not required. The metaphorical elephants and cows; who can only receive opinion and media attention from those who were statistically better players than them.

The Australian cricket team chills out after a hard session in Delhi. Source: reuters

Breaking this down; we are looking at the 10 media commentators that represent the BBL and Channel 9.

Unfortunately for the ABC guys, they provide far too much information on the cricket and,

with their lack of suits, tatts and hair product, they just don’t fit the mould to be taken seriously.

Cargo shorts, backpacks and the use of their experiences of life away from the game to provide intelligent musings are for Dungeons and Dragons nights at Gerard Whateley’s house.

Because that’s what people who didn’t play cricket at Darren Lehmann’s level do.

The roll out of this structure in Australian cricket is to ensure that those with minimal impact at international level know their place.

That they have an understanding that their domestic and grade careers make them hacks that can provide little to the game moving forward.

It’s imperative that no one strays away from their standing and when acknowledged by a higher ranking player or coach they will be granted access to one nod, in agreement, and one meek smile through the pain of their burning soul.

Brett Geeves in action at training with the Australian cricket team in 2009. Source: News Limited

So of course Darren Lehmann thinks I am an average cricketer.

It’s ingrained in him as a defense mechanism to either call me a s**t bloke or a s**t cricketer. Yet all he has unwittingly achieved is provide us with an example of the types of attitudes that still exist in our game: a recognition that the foundation for the code is real and that the views of anyone that didn’t play at a higher level than ‘Boof’ should be mocked, ridiculed and sent to the wasteland of internet-based journalism; regardless of the depth of knowledge, experiences and fact provided to support the view.

It is a completely flawed thought process and one that provides credence to my views that the AFL are a long way ahead of cricket when it comes to its coaching pathways and how it has embraced a number of different knowledge banks that aren’t from the elite player range.

As for Geeves v Lehmann? Well I know you are wondering.

In the two Shield games we played against each other he averaged 29 and I got nine wickets - including Boof’s scalp twice.

In four one-day games, where I took six wickets at 22, he averaged 31, and I got him once – and didn’t get to bowl to him in two others as he was already dismissed.

So across the four games I got to bowl to him, I dismissed him three times.

The code was made to be broken.

Anyone got bunny ears?