MITCHELL JOHNSON: Cameron Green and Cooper Conolly should not be Australia’s T20 World Cup scapegoats
It’s easy to lay it all at the feet of the struggling all‑rounder, but others deserve the real blame for the T20 debacle.
Australia bowing out of the T20 World Cup in the group stage isn’t just disappointing, it’s troubling, and the ramifications go beyond the obvious embarrassment the team will be feeling.
Strip the emotion away, and you’re left with a hard truth: They were outplayed, out-thought and out-executed.
Now the blame game begins. And the easy option is to pick a target or targets.
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By continuing you agree to our Terms and Privacy Policy.But this isn’t on one person. It’s layered.
It’s a mixture. It’s a team sport on and off the field.
Selectors pick the squad. Players win or lose the games.
On paper, this squad had enough experience, power and flexibility.
They weren’t underdogs scraping through qualification. They had senior figures in Glenn Maxwell, Marcus Stoinis, and a specialist finisher in Tim David. When Australia needed muscle, composure, and presence, those were the names you circled.
They didn’t deliver. And the bowlers couldn’t either when it mattered against Sri Lanka.
The knives are sharp. They always are after a tournament loss. But emotional overreaction won’t fix structural issues.
When tournaments tighten, senior players carry weight. Instead, the spotlight drifted toward the younger names, Cooper Connolly and Cameron Green, as if they were solely responsible.
That’s too convenient.
Green needed to step up. He has the tools, power, reach, athleticism, but at this level, his mental game is not there.
That’s where he’s still developing, and I think he should be questioned on performances as he has been around long enough now.
Connolly? He’s young. Finding his way. The backlash toward him felt disproportionate when others with far more caps escaped the same heat.
In the end, score runs, get wickets and do your job in the team and you avoid the heat.
Accountability must be shared evenly.
Then there’s Steve Smith, the loudest “what if” of the tournament.
His Big Bash form was strong, and he was eventually flown in as injury cover. The argument made by the media and former players was simple, he should have been there from the start.
Maybe.
Where was all this noise when Cameron Bancroft wasn’t picked in the Test team years ago, when he was the leading Sheffield Shield run-scorer?
And before anyone says, you can’t compare Smith and Bancroft, no, that’s not what I’m doing, I’m making an example of runs and in-form players.
But how do we know he changes the outcome? That’s hindsight dressed as certainty.
Selectors, led by George Bailey, have clearly been trying to build a T20 identity without leaning on Smith.
Perhaps they believed this squad’s ceiling was higher without reshuffling the structure. Perhaps they questioned how Smith fits into a power-based middle order.
And then there’s Smith’s stated ambition of playing in the 2028 Olympics. Fair enough. But is that purely team-driven or part of a personal legacy play? It’s worth asking, because long-term vision influences selection thinking.
In the end, it doesn’t matter. Smith wasn’t there. The squad picked had enough talent to progress.
They didn’t.
This exit also does not bode well for the Big Bash League.
Cricket Australia markets it as the best T20 league in the world. That’s a bold claim when your national side can’t clear the first phase of a World Cup, especially in a tournament where emerging nations like the USA, Italy and Nepal are closing the gap rapidly.
T20 cricket has compressed the world game. Skill gaps are smaller. Tactical sharpness matters more than reputation. You don’t get through on history or being a successful nation in Test or ODI cricket.
One selection call that lingers is leaving Matt Renshaw out against Sri Lanka. He had been one of their more stable batters. A player capable of absorbing pressure, someone who can hold one end and let the hitters play naturally.

That balance matters in T20. He was Australia’s Smith-type player.
Instead, Australia leaned heavily into power hitting. And when power fails, there’s no safety net.
The backlash has been brutal. That tells you something. Australia is still respected.
But feared? Not in T20.
In the 50-over format, there’s still aura. In T20, that edge has dulled. Other nations believe they can beat Australia, and now they have proof.
The knives are sharp. They always are after a tournament loss. But emotional overreaction won’t fix structural issues.
The real question is this.
Can Australia adapt quickly enough to the evolving T20 landscape, where clarity of roles, tactical boldness, and mental resilience matter more than big names?
Or will they continue leaning on reputation while the rest of the world accelerates?
They got this one wrong. No excuses.
The next big international T20 tournament will show whether this was a stumble, or the beginning of being left behind.
