Tim Ellis' series of reviews of the most acclaimed cricket books during the last few decades continues, with a publication that transcends the usual captain's fare.

Part Two: The Art Of Captaincy (Mike Brearley, 1985)

It was former fiery Australian fast bowler Rodney Hogg who struck up an unlikely rapport with Mike Brearley after falling out with his own skipper. Hogg said the Cambridge graduate had "a different take on the enemy", and deemed him a man "with a degree in people".

Brearley captained England in 31 Tests, winning 18 and losing only four. His ability to cajole and inspire the best out of people, without, on the face of it, pulling his own weight with the bat - he only averaged 22 in Test matches - is testament to the value of his management skills.

It would be a disservice to describe The Art of Captaincy as merely a book on the leadership qualities needed for cricket. When film director Sam Mendes was struggling with American Beauty, it was the first thing he turned to for inspiration. Mendes writes the foreword to the book here to give it a more universal clout, not that it needs its reputation to be enhanced. The book has had resonance in academic fields as well as sporting ones.

On tour, Brearley spent a huge amount of quality time listening to players in different environments, mainly through his own desire to know what made them tick. He would sit with players individually, and discuss and dissect how they saw their tour going and how they perceived their own form. This personal approach was conducive to team value, getting the most out of each and every piece of the jigsaw.

"The captain must know how to deploy whatever skills his players have at their disposal. He must enable them to widen their own range, to have the confidence to experiment. In short, the captain must get the best out of his team by helping them to play together without suppressing flair and uniqueness." Has KP been reading this?

One of the book's great strengths is that it combines a real knowledge of the technical aspects of the job with the importance of hunches and instinct - the human factor that tells us all that something, but not anything, is needed to change the dynamic in times of difficulty or stagnation.

Whereas football manager's 'mind games' appear to be drawn from an unsubtle approach of winding up the opposition, the white-haired sage got results by winding up his own men with a well constructed (and customised) degree of empathy playing its part.

Ultimately, Brearley's skill was in motivating his team and commanding respect, despite his own limited abilities. His apparent failure did not appear to have a detrimental effect on his subjects. Ian Botham was not a man to suffer weaknesses in others, but take note of these comments in his own autobiography:

"He was an old man, standing in the slips, complaining about his feet aching, and all the while telling me to bowl properly," Botham recalled of the infamous 1981 series against Australia. "And I don't know what it is, but I took stuff from him that I'd clip others round the ear for."

Brearley knew how to appeal to all comers and had an innate sense of what was needed and when. The Art of Captaincy will stand the test of time as the book on the most difficult job in cricket.

Tim Ellis