There's no crowing after victories, no scandal in city bars after hours, no cheesy women's magazine exposes, no hype from within, no Ferraris at training, no veiled criticism of selectors, and no unchecked egos in public. You can hear the team talks: "Well played. Heads down lads, let's keep doing what we're doing."
This absence of dickheadery extends onto the field too: this is not a vicious team. It was never more obvious than when Adam Milne did some panelbeating of the lion badge on Rangana Herath's helmet at Hagley Oval, yet was first man in to check the rotund tweaker was okay. Or Trent Boult's non-gushing when he became our latest $800,000 Man: "Everyone's pretty close and tight-knit and it was pretty special just to share it with a couple of mates ... "
Humility and giving it heaps are probably the two things New Zealanders cherish most in their sports teams. And this team is doling it out generously, but never ostentatiously, in shovel loads.
As a result of all that shovelling, they have new legions of supporters as New Zealanders identify with a team doing things in an admirable way on both sides of a boundary rope covered in plastic advertising for Indian tyre companies.
More seats are filled aboard the Black Cap bandwagon in February 2015 than we have seen for 23 years. Cricketing double entendres and puns have swept the nation's advertising copywriters like a plague of locusts*, Sky TV has turned into Wall-to-Wall Cricket TV, children are burning their rugby boots and playing BYC until the moon comes out, robots are doing score predictions, and games of cricket are selling out. This also makes for a pleasant change - even masochists need company.
Back in 19th century America, a bandwagon was a horse-drawn contraption which carried musical bands to circuses, parades, elections and concerts. It comes with the connotation that those tagging along are there for the thrills rather than a burning desire.
Two hundred years later, in the contemporary Kiwi cricketing context, I say to hell with that connotation. For a long time the Black Caps' horse-drawn vehicle has been inhabited by a handful of cricket nuffies, heading along to see a dysfunctional band that was often out of tune but boasted magnificent vocalists like Glenn, Richard, Martin, Shane and Daniel over the years.
In 2015, they're a band worth seeing most days - and it warms the beige cockles of my heart.
* No, not crickets
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