Remember childhood, and making shadows of animals on the walls with fingers? It's fun doing batting line-ups too. Think of the Australian one-day team and a giant trapezium, broad side up, begins to appear. South Africa are an hour-glass, sturdy-topped, strong-bottomed and slender through the centre. Zimbabwe look like some snake-charmer's been at them, outlandishly wide at Andy Flower and tapering rapidly on either side of him. Bangladesh are a barely visible strand, with a tiny knot at Habibul Bashar.

And then there's India - The Inverted Pyramid. Sachin Tendulkar and Sourav Ganguly, then a sputter, and then a stop. Tendulkar and Ganguly are already the most successful opening partnership in one-day history: 5500-plus runs, average of 50, utterly gorgeous to behold, the one perfect thing in the team, a chest-swelling theme.

Suggesting that they should be split up is like wearing a T-shirt that says "Daft. Anti-national. Doesn't even know that if it ain't broke, don't fix it." But it is broke, silly.

Look at the larger picture. Look at the middle order, and don't pretend that Ajay Jadeja and Mohammad Azharuddin meant nothing. Look at the fact that India's success rate when Ganguly and Tendulkar have opened (about 45%) is easily lower than the composite figure over the last 10 years. There is a hole in the middle, and Tendulkar must be asked to fill it.

It is not defensive or defeatist. In surgical parlance, it's known as a transplant; an economist might call it optimisation of resources. The theory that Tendulkar should bat first-up to give him the maximum number of overs couldn't be more ridiculous. "If he bats 50 overs, India will be OK." Of course India would, but it's happened only once in eight years. It's not only a ludicrous ask of any single individual, it also goes to show there's no life after Plan A.

Cricket has grown since the 1996 World Cup. Openers are not the be-all and end-all. They are still vital, because it requires a skill to exploit early restrictions. But it takes a far rarer skill to break open the door where there exists no crack.

Michael Bevan, Chris Cairns, Lance Klusener (circa 1998-2000) ... they are what Americans would call the real MVPs (Most Valuable Players), because they thrive when no-one else can stand the heat. The middle and the end, between overs 15 and 50, is where cricket matches are swung.

As for West Indies, they could afford Greenidge and Haynes at the top. They had that whats-his-name, Viv Richards, lurking below, not to mention Clive Lloyd and/or Richie Richardson. Heck, even Jayasuriya and Kaluwitharana had Aravinda de Silva and Arjuna Ranatunga to come later on.

India, by contrast, have a mixture of hesitant campaigners and fresh-faced youth. That is why Tendulkar should be geeing himself up for phase three of his one-day career: back in the middle order, at No. 4 or No. 3, as the situation demands. He is best equipped to pace the mid-innings, best equipped to absorb pressure should there be an early collapse, best qualified never to lose the plot, and crucially, the best man to finish.

His replacement at the top should be Virender Sehwag - great eye, big shots, albeit a trifle iffy - who can allow himself the unbridled freedom that Tendulkar could when he first took up opening.

The team needs balance. The effects of top-heaviness are well chronicled. Dolly Parton's feet were small, it was suggested, because things don't grow in the shade. India, top-heavier still, are in danger of not even finding their feet when the World Cup comes around.

Rahul Bhattacharya is a staff writer with Wisden.com in India.

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