The cynical, which make up a large proportion of England fans in light of the last year, could suggest that their side's win on Tuesday against a flaccid India only exposes the retro limitations of its capabilities: Rely on good old fashioned seam and swing to bowl the opposition out cheaply, with the batsmen thus then required to do nothing as outré and modernist as play with even half of AB de Villiers' absurdist zeitgeist swagger. There is a certain legitimacy to this given it is inconceivable a side, even with the (regarded as) handy Kiwi wickets England will play their group matches on, can win the World Cup without consistently posting totals of, let's modestly suggest, 270 plus with regularity over the course of the tournament. That's not something at which England particularly excel recently.
However, let's take, in victory for once, the positives. England today appeared a side gripped with a sort of genuine togetherness, rather than the faux ethos which has covered them in a phlegm-like veil of unconvincing insincerity in the post-Pietersen age. Victory of course does that, but they were incessant in the field and two catches spoke, and especially the captain's - though perhaps technically a less impressive grab than Moeen Ali's - of a team that wants to be taken seriously, even if it is still yet rather optimistic to do so. Switching leaders, particularly in English cricketing history, can often be Titanic in its deckchair rearranging futility, but it is impossible not to be impressed by Morgan, whether in defeat or triumph. He treats both imposters with a twinkle-steeled gaze which suggests anyone in his side would be foolhardy not to pull their socks up to at the very least a standard of basic competitiveness and competence. Beyond the skipper and even beyond Ian Bell's exquisite Bellery, Finn, a player only the most curmudgeonly would not wish well, was quite wonderful, albeit on a pitch on which he should be. After his all too customary knee-knocked stumps trash against Australia in England's first match of the Tri-Series, you wondered what Antipodean wounds may reopen for the endlessly phlegmatic and gifted trooper, but versus Kohli et al it was his best ever ODI figures. Super, really.
It's a stretch to feel upbeat about England, but, with Morgan at the helm, it's not unreasonable to feel, although with the scepticism of a loving wife whose husband earnestly claims the mistress is gone, that you could actually possibly trust them again. Not exactly heady times, but a day to revel in, however naively, nonetheless. Onwards to Hobart.