LANCASTRIANS, it seems, are doing almost everything in the England cricket team. One is the captain, another is the coach, a third chairs the management committee. Even the scorer comes from the country and, as the likely Test side took shape in the early tour matches, so did that most problematic of all the positions in this side, the No. 3 batsman.

The oscillations of England's form being what they are, precious few positions have been entirely secure of late, but none has quite the hot-potato tendencies of No. 3. It is a commonly heard regret that we have not had an established batsman there since David Gower, but as Gower just as frequently batted at 4 or 5, it might be truer to name Ken Barrington or even Ted Dexter.

At times, the turnover in the job has been of Whitehall-farce proportions. Two years ago, five consecutive Tests, against South Africa and India, brought five different No. 3s – Mark Ramprakash, Graham Thorpe, Jason Gallian, Robin Smith and Nasser Hussain.

A century of Hussain's at Edgbaston, in June of 1996, followed by another two games later at Trent Bridge, seemed to have brought a satisfactory end to the muddle, until Alec Stewart's job definition was altered for the umpteenth time so that he could mix wicketkeeping with batting first wicket down.

Now that theory, too, has been abandoned. Stewart is back where he belongs, going in first with Michael Atherton, and England began the Caribbean tour with the vacancy sign once more erected over No. 3. There were at least four options open to the selectors, and they settled on the one that many would have considered the least likely.

News of John Crawley's nomination apparently raised an eyebrow or two far beyond the West Indies. His place in the touring party had been by no means a formality, and Messrs Graveney, Gooch and Gatting, the selection trio responsible for his inclusion, had not envisaged him starting the series at No. 3. By all accounts there were some puzzled phone calls when the tour selectors, a different trio, named their man.

If Crawley was a contentious choice by the fellow Lancastrians dominating the tour committee, however, he was also a logical and laudable one. Consider the alternatives – a return to Hussain, who prefers to bat away from the new ball at No. 4; a third opener in Mark Butcher; or one more punt on Ramprakash, whose Test average is half that of Crawley. The first would potentially waste one of the most effective aggressors in the side, the second would be a blatant compromise, and the third more an act of cruelty than faith. (In the event, Jack Russell's illness meant Butcher was propelled into the problem spot on the Jamaica minefield, with predictable results.)

For all that, the verdict was unexpected, not least to the winning entrant. `I was happily surprised to go straight in at No. 3,' said Crawley. `The reverse had happened to me before, going on tour as the man in possession and not getting a place.' This, indeed, was but one of a saga of disappointments in an international career that has tended to stall repeatedly and without warning.

 CRAWLEY IS one of those rare beings, rather less fortunate than it might appear, for whom Test cricket was considered a formality simply awaiting acceptance. From his days at Cambridge, indeed maybe from before that at Manchester Grammar School, he was identified as a natural. Michael Atherton, whose academic route was identical, may always have been captain-in-waiting, but Crawley had style and class. He would bat at No. 3 for England, make no mistake.

Well, it duly came about, but not quite in the easy manner the script suggested. For reasons of form, favour and fitness he has constantly been in the revolving doors of the England team. He has not done badly, but then neither has he excelled, and it is a disappointment to many, himself included, that he has embarked on his fourth full overseas tour still not established in the side.

He declines to blame inflated anticipation. `I don't feel I suffered from that, because I put a great deal of expectation on myself and I haven't come up to the mark yet. It's a tough game, sometimes a cruel one. I have always set my sights on an average of at least 40 for England, and I am still seven short, but I feel it is only one good series away.'

At home at No. 3: `I always felt it was my position,' says John Crawley– but his first Test century (opposite), against Pakistan at The Oval in 1996, was made from No.5

At school, Crawley had, opened, purely because he was the best player. `At Cambridge I started off at No. 3 but found I was invariably in straight away because we'd lost a wicket, so I went back to opening. I always felt No. 3 was my position though, and that's where I've played all my cricket for Lancashire.'

When he wasn't working towards his history degree, Crawley's time at Cambridge was mainly spent attracting admiring comparisons with such revered Varsity old boys as Dexter and Peter May. He smiles a shade ruefully. `I had never even seen them play but it was an honour to be spoken of in the same breath.' Unlike Dexter and May, however, Crawley is not naturally pictured driving through the covers off the front foot. His instinct is to play back, and his runs come predominantly through the on side. `There are very few top players around now with a front-foot technique,' he observes. ` Greg Blewett is an exception, but for most of us the half-cock position, playing from the crease, is the norm.

`I have always felt safer scoring runs through the on side. By that I mean I try to eliminate unnecessary risks, and in driving at balls wide of off stump, especially early in an innings, you can always get out. I've been called a bad starter – and my figures do suggest that I get out too often in single figures but that once I'm in, I tend to go on. My feet don't always move as positively as I would like early on. It's something that has been on my mind for the past year.'

Also on his mind has been the whole business of touring, which thus far has provided him with more dismay than fulfillment. His first senior trip, to Australia three winters ago, was a severe letdown. `I learned a lot there. I played a few good knocks, but also had a few appalling games,' he recalled. `Finishing that series with a pair in a heavy defeat at Perth was a real low. I felt I wouldn't play again for a while after that.'

In fact his second chance came sooner than he might have expected, and it was a distinctly different Crawley who reappeared. `If Australia taught me one thing it was that I hadn't been fit enough to fulfil my obligations in the field. I had always thought of myself as a decent fielder, but I realised I wasn't mobile enough to compete. I started work in the gym as soon as the tour ended and lost a stone and a half before the home season.'

Given such dedication to fitness, it was richly ironic that Crawley's next tour was curtailed by a fielding injury. Omitted from the first two Tests in South Africa, he won back his place at Durban but tore a hamstring on the boundary edge and went home without playing a Test innings. `I relive the moment often,' he admits. `After a long wait to get a place, it seemed cruel that it was taken away. The harsh realities of the game hit me in the face on that tour.'

 AND THEN CAME the twin tour of Zimbabwe and New Zealand last winter. Steady output from No. 6 was spoiled – in many eyes – by the publication of a diary in which Crawley came across as a morose and somewhat ungrateful individual. He regrets the impression, though not the sentiments.

`Those who took great exception had no real idea what it is like to be away for so long. That was a fourmonth tour and the rule was that wives and girlfriends could not Join us. I thought it was a mistake and I said so. We're not schoolchildren. Each of us knows what we need to perform and, while some don't want people coming out from home, others play better for it.

`I regret coming across as downbeat, though I was always up for the cricket, but I was trying to be honest about the way a lot of people feel on tour, especially that tour. It was an honest reflection of the time.'

This winter, there are no such deprivations, and Crawley was to be joined by his fiancée, Kate, in time for the Second Test in Trinidad. Until then, `he was proceeding in his self-sufficient way, seldom the life and soul but far from the lonely grump he might have been portrayed. `I am not a very gregarious person. I used to be pretty lively, socially, but I found I was using up too much energy. I am the type who is happy enough with his own company and I don't mind a few nights in my room.' He reads crime thrillers – Patricia Cornwell is a current favourite – and he strums his ever-present guitar.

Some have found the No. 3 role an unwelcome burden, but Crawley approaches it methodically and proprietorially. `I do feel at home there either as a secondary opener if a wicket falls early or as the start of the middle order, building on a decent start.

`Out here, I will be in more of a blunting role. The pitches start damp, and the first three hours or so can be hard work, but if you can keep them to one wicket from the first 30 or 40 overs, the guys better equipped to demolish can come in late in the day in a decent position.

`They bowl to stop you scoring here, using their two bouncers an over and tying you down until you have a big flash and get out. Our answer is to upset them with a sharp single, and make the bowlers rethink their line and reset their field. There might be the odd run-out, but it could still be worthwhile.'

No. 3 suits Crawley temperamentally, too. `When I was at No. 6, I found I couldn't watch the first part of the innings because I got too mentally tired before my turn came to bat. At No. 3 I can watch from the start.' He will try, however, not to calm the nerves by puffing on a cigarette: `I intend to give it up completely in the next six months.'

The coming weeks could dictate otherwise, but John Crawley and the England No. 3 slot have long seemed made for each other. `A lot of people talk about it as if there's a curse on the position,' he says cheerfully. `The way I look at it, someone has only got to make a few scores and establish himself to make everyone forget it has been problem.'

   In the hot seat: Graeme Hick started No. 3, but often struggled –here bowled by Curtly Ambrose on his Test debut at Headingley in 1991

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