Here’s a tip to tell when the economy is crook: the politicians in charge can barely get through a sentence without uttering something about the country’s ‘automatic stabilisers’.

What they amount to are a set of shock absorbers triggered by an event that threatens the economy at large. Think the Australian dollar when the GFC hit – it plunged to 60 cents, giving the economy a much-needed boost when the finance sector stopped in its tracks.

Well-functioning cricket teams are not much different, containing within their ranks their own version of an automatic stabiliser: a purpose-built middle-order rock, who possesses a calming influence with the coolest of heads.

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They aren’t needed every time, but when an innings goes awry early on, their job is invaluable. If history is any guide – and it almost always is – to go without someone tailor-made for the job is a fraction fraught.

It is easy to be reductive about Australia’s collapse on Saturday and attribute it to a lack of focus on the task at hand. Technical flaws were evident in each of Trent Boult’s first four dismissals, the commonality a lack of pronounced, even exaggerated, footwork to help neutralise the inherent threat of the swinging ball.

Michael Clarke criticised his team’s preparation as top heavy on attack; or the “power side” of the game, to use the captain’s words.

The subtext of this commentary, however, was Australia’s inability to shift gears and knuckle down when the circumstances demanded it. Clarke highlighted a missing link in his squad for this World Cup tilt – the lack of someone coming in down the list with the resolve to play a slower, longer innings to carefully rebuild after ruin.

Despite the evolution of the 50-over game in the past decade towards a far more boisterous affair, it is surprising that the selectors haven’t looked to Australia’s 1999 and 2003 triumphs as case studies in this regard.

Success in both of those tournaments would have been sorely jeopardised without the presence of a couple of middle order mainstays: Steve Waugh and Michael Bevan.

In 1999, consecutive South Africa epics required the intervention of the deep middle order. Waugh’s match-winning 120 not out in the (sudden death) Super Six fixture came after he took the crease at 3-48.

In what was effectively a rematch the following week in the semi-final, it was much the same as Australia fell to 3-58 and 4-68 before Waugh and Bevan batted 22 overs to get Australia to a total that proved just enough.

The 2003 title defence is remembered for Australia’s unblemished copy book in running the table undefeated. A closer inspection shows that Bevan was again the key stabiliser: in a pair of crucial low-scoring affairs at Port Elizabeth where Australia’s bacon was saved from starts of 4-47 and 4-48 against England and New Zealand respectively.

It shouldn’t surprise that when playing for a valued prize in the strenuous cauldron of international sport that events don’t always go to plan. That theatre is part of the charm of a high-stakes quadrennial tournament.

In acknowledging this, Australia has a choice to make about how it casts itself forward to the elimination stages later this month, where the unbalanced format of this World Cup centres all of the pressure.

This column has already made its case for George Bailey’s inclusion (or, perhaps more accurately, for Shane Watson’s removal); and despite the temptation of last weekend it won’t labour that point beyond suggesting it was quintessential Watto.

As an insurance policy for tougher times, the numbers would suggest they could do a lot worse than considering shuffling Clarke and Steve Smith up the order at the expense of Watson to re-introduce the Tasmanian.

Since Bailey’s breakthrough maiden international hundred just over two years ago, on seven occasions he has arrived at the crease with Australia three down with less than 70 on the board, and with plenty to do. In those innings, he has personally averaged 65 (reaching 50 or more four times), driving Australia to average scores of 253 after those modest beginnings.

It’s a persuasive pattern, reflective of a mindset that is conducive to knuckling down as required, seen as recently as the opening match of this very World Cup in peeling off a measured 55 when Australia’s innings could have gone either way.

Bailey’s inclusion wouldn’t be a handbrake in more fruitful times when hunting massive totals. As a product of the modern game, he is versatile enough to employ power-hitting tricks to marry up with those who come in further down the list with an express license to attack, namely Glenn Maxwell and James Faulkner.

If mature bodies win football finals, there is something to be said for calm and mature cricketers prevailing in big tournaments. Now I’m going to level with you: George Bailey isn’t Michael Bevan. But of the squad at the disposal of selectors, he best fills the niche.

One thing is almost certain: Australia will have to dig itself out of a hole at some stage later in this tournament, at a time when there is no room for error. Dealing with the current structural imbalance while the sun is shining could be the difference between boom and bust.

Adam Collins was a senior adviser to the former federal government, and worked for the London 2012 Olympic and Paralympic Games organising committee.