When was the last time you were excited to watch an Australian Test match because you couldn't wait to witness the performance of a specific standout player?

For historical importance, I was glued to the television last October to admire Sachin Tendulkar at the crease. Before that, it was a brief pleasure watching Mohammad's Amir and Asif hoop the ball in both directions, at pace, in accommodating English conditions. Next in the trawl through the memory bank is Chris Gayle, vacillating between his swashbuckling extremes in December 2009.

The last Australian to get me interested in turning up or turning on my TV was Mitchell Johnson, way back in the summer of 08-09 when he traumatised South Africa at home and away. This is a real concern.

Last summer, during an Ashes series of raw emotions, neither Australia nor England had individuals that set pulses racing. Yes, there were heart-starting moments - Peter Siddle in Brisbane, Mitchell Johnson in Perth and Kevin Pietersen in Adelaide to name three - but, on reflection, they were brief signs of life in a summer of otherwise moribund performances.

That is to take nothing away from the standout achievers of the most recent Ashes, notably England's Alastair Cook and Jonathan Trott. Their shot selection, concentration and sheer bloody-mindedness was a purist's wet-dream. However, I doubt marketing executives have since bombarded either player's agent with endorsement offers.

My gripe is not with the Cook's and Trott's of the world though. Both have earned the right through weight of runs to ply their trade on the biggest stage. My concern is the mediocrity vaunted around them, on both sides.

Too many modern players lack any spark - be it in their performance or their attitude. Not every batsman can dominate like Viv Richards, but they can exude his confidence and imitate his presence. Not every bowler can dismantle a top-order like Dennis Lillee but they can at least replicate his energy, desire and will to win.

In recent days two of the cricket world's finest writers have pitched expert opinions questioning aspects of the game's management in Australia and England. Both offer similar conclusions; that the game's professionalism (or its current incarnation) is to its detriment.

On Sunday, Greg Baum came off a long run in The Age, hurling a stinging bouncer in the direction of Don Argus, the man responsible for conducting the review into Australian cricket. Baum's story laments the mutation of the Australian cricketing pyramid into a series of incompatible silos. No longer does the broad base of Australian club cricket compliment the international apex. Instead, according to Baum, players' techniques are now confused by the myriad formats, their heads are befuddled with competing loyalties and yet they are so uber-professional they are prohibited from even re-acquainting themselves with the grassroots.

The line that best sums up Baum's argument is: "It is one thing to know how to bat and bowl, another to know how to play cricket."

On Monday, writing in England's Daily Telegraph, Scyld Berry asked similar questions about the game's development. Under the headline, "Where have all England's Devon Malcolms gone?" Berry explains the important contribution of Afro-Caribbean cricketers to the English game and how one particular London nursery, Haringey Cricket College, was responsible for a disproportionate percentage of them.

Notably, Berry highlights the likes of Devon Malcolm, Philip DeFreitas and Keith Piper not just for their considerable abilities, but also for their famous unpredictabilities. In a game meticulously coached and sanitised at every level, Berry wonders from where the next "unorthodox crackerjack" will emerge, free from the standardisation of the system. HCC was one such breeding ground but a lack of funding and interest since 2000 has seen its influence wane.

Taking both together, the conclusion is that cricket is becoming over-systematised. Players are becoming robots ‘executing skills' to order, not passionate internationals seizing the moment. The relative success of both the Australian and English models has led to over-coached young players, a standardisation of techniques and a generation of technicians, not cricketers. In short, there is less unpredictability and magic in the game.

In Australia, this has not been cause for concern until recently for two reasons. The obvious one is the model has brought unprecedented success for a long period of time. The second is the last twenty-or-so years have produced some of the most extraordinary and durable cricketers of all-time, capable of papering over any cracks. In cricket's long history there have been few openers as intimidating and destructive as Matthew Hayden, a handful of middle-order batsman as elegant as Mark Waugh, no wicketkeeper as influential as Adam Gilchrist and no figure as singularly captivating as Shane Warne.

The challenge is continually unearthing these great box-office draws, identifying the potential folk-heroes and, ultimately, capturing the pubic imagination. In recent years, either through lack of talent or lack of selectoral daring, this challenge has stalled.

Without wanting to disparage individuals, fine cricketers all, the trend of recent Test debutants (I would posit as far back as cap number 406) is a Who's Who of the workmanlike, solid and job-doing.

There are obvious exceptions, but what unites most of those - Phil Hughes and Steve Smith in particular - is how uncomfortable they have sat within the Test arena. Despite a Bradman-esque arrival in Test cricket, Hughes was dropped at the earliest opportunity, so unconvinced were selectors of his technique. It remains unclear whether Smith is viewed as a bowler who bats or a batsman who bowls.

The Australian system is, for the first time in a long time, producing bland cricketers. Caps are being awarded for moderate success in a domestic competition fast losing its prestige. Few recent players have demanded inclusion through sheer volume of runs or wickets. (One only has to look at how long Marcus North clung on to his spot in the middle-order for proof). Neither are irregular individual performances, double-hundreds or 10-fors, causing selectors to speculate on rough diamonds.

Equally as concerning, few of those called into the breach have indicated they have the heart or temperament to survive at the highest level. Whether this is a decline in the intensity of Shield cricket or a lack of exposure to club cricket at early ages, as Baum suggests, so many baggy green wearers look like they're passengers in, not pilots of, their experiences. The hysteria over Simon Katich's dropping was as much to do with the demonstrable fight that he possessed and value he placed on representing his country, as much as his run-getting capabilities.

In his piece, Berry references Sri Lanka as one example of an alternative or complimentary approach. Coaches from that country deliberately search remote locations for the unorthodox, even trialling one bowler who delivered whilst in mid-air. This is a country that has long punched above its weight in international cricket, thanks in part to the match-winningly non-conformist talents of Muttiah Muralitharan, Lasith Malinga and Sanath Jayasuria.

Countries like England and Australia should be commended for establishing such well-ordered cricket development programmes. They now need to think outside the box and find ways to bring a little of bit of the magic back to the game.