DANE ELDRIDGE: Brendon McCullum hoping to do as England coach what he could never do playing for New Zealand

To some, Bazball is a cultural revolution. To others, it’s just a charmless excuse for the Poms to play switch-hits in creams.

But to sceptical Australians, Brendon McCullum’s mantra is merely an extension of the man himself: All sizzle and no steak.

And if this Ashes campaign is anything like the coach’s previous contests against Australia, England will have flambéed by Adelaide and burned off in to the ether before Christmas.

Barring a short stint with the Brisbane Heat in the Big Bash, Australians have never entirely warmed to McCullum — and not just because he’s from New Zealand and the only cricketer of theirs we’ve ever valued was Luke Ronchi.

Nope, we never joined his global appreciation movement solely because he’s rarely subjected us to anything worthy of appreciation.

Lauded as a god in his homeland and an evangelical preacher in the Old Dart, McCullum was celebrated in his playing days for batting like a Molotov cocktail.

Except against Australia, when he appeared to be batting with just the wick.

Despite slapping the quickest ton in Test history against big brother in 2016 and building a healthy Test average across his career of 38.74, McCullum only featured in one win in 16 Tests against the Tasman rivals for a chump change average of 26.07.

And while he certainly fared much better in white ball cricket, nothing he achieved in the pyjamas was enough for us to overshadow his two most notorious memories: Getting suicidally bowled by Mitchell Starc in the first over of the 2015 World Cup final, and more criminally, stropping that he “won’t be having a beer” with the Aussies last Ashes solely because Alex Carey stumped Johnny Bairstow.

McCullum’s most pressing issue isn’t the lack of wins or refusing an ice-cold VB, it’s the fact Bazball thinks the world of itself.

With all this in mind, it’s no wonder Australians have become a country of heretics the last fortnight with McCullum and his apostles on our shores bashing their Bibles.

But of course, credit where it’s due.

Come any Ashes series in Australia and the first thing a travelling England side usually seeks upon arrival is an offer of bad light.

This team is usually mentally de-pantsed by the time it arrives, but the nuggety Kiwi has gone a long way to hitching the nation’s briefs back up and reigniting its mojo.

With his unwavering mantra for aggressive fields and turbocharged fourth innings run chases, McCullum has delivered a boot up England’s bum as thunderous as the one he’s delivered to test cricket itself.

But for all the hype around Bazball and the genuine belief they can win against anyone from anywhere at anytime, the Poms have nothing to show in return but a handful of minnow scalps and adrenal fatigue.

England may enjoy a healthy 60 per cent win rate under the former wicketkeeper, but they have never tasted series success against India or Australia — and it makes this whole shebang look like nothing more than a bit of hit-and-giggle with severe attention deficit.

However, it isn’t this underwhelming win-loss data that riles up Australians most about the Bazball cult.

While the judicious Australian cricket fan will always applaud any side willing to play the game aggressively, they take a dim view when it comes packaged with primal hubris.

Yep, McCullum’s most pressing issue isn’t the lack of wins or refusing an ice-cold VB, it’s the fact Bazball thinks the world of itself.

Usually when a concept is lazily coined like Bazball — think MoneyBall, AngeBall, or Steve Harmison’s Ashes opening GutterBall — it’s usually accepted by the subject with a substantial degree of reluctance and a kitchen’s worth of salt.

But not England.

Not only have they proudly tattooed their self-affirming moniker across their foreheads, they’ve also lived it, pumped it through an oxy tank and breathed it, and most stridently, believed it.

And while admirable in their conviction, this tattoo ink has now seeped in to their brains.

While McCullum’s spin has convinced his players to accentuate the positive and embrace cricket’s spirit, it’s also brainwashed them in to wholeheartedly believing the England cricket team is Test cricket’s saviour just because they employ a fifth slip and mow down the occasional target before the second new ball.

Like Ben Duckett claiming kudos for an Indian double century or Ben Stokes oozing how his side is “a sports team that will live forever in the memory”, England have become like an insecure celeb posting flame emojis on their own shameless thirst traps.

For a country like New Zealand that spawned the world-beating All Blacks — a team that beats up on cashed-up northern nations before humbly sweeping their locker rooms — McCullum conjuring something as dizzyingly narcissistic as Bazball is so off-brand that it’s something modest Kiwis would usually associate with Australia.

Now he’s Down Under where you simply cannot afford to take your eye off the ball for a millisecond, McCullum’s legacy hangs on whether England can look away from the mirror long enough.