Although the passages on Andrew Flintoff have drawn most notice, they are far from the most significant aspects of Duncan Fletcher’s unsparingly thorough autobiography. Behind The Shades, which is published tomorrow, is as colour-ful as the former England coach’s press conferences were dull. In truth, Fletcher tells us little that we did not know about Flintoff and his drinking. It has long been publicly known – since the “pedalo affair” eight months ago, to be precise – that Flintoff turned up inebriated to a training session in Australia. It was also widely known, within days of the event, that he had been drinking in the Australian dressing-room until midnight after the morale-shattering second Test defeat in Adelaide.

On these matters, the England allrounder has not got a leg on which to stand. He is guilty as charged, as well he knows, if the messages coming out of his management team are anything to go by, regarding him having stayed off the booze for three months and beginning to address “lifestyle issues”.

Forget Flintoff. The striking aspect to the book is the picture it paints of dysfunctional management at the apex of English cricket. True, the consequences of the investment of too much power in Fletcher were being felt, but elsewhere mistakes were made left, right and centre by senior figures seemingly more interested in leaking information to the press and minding their own backs than working for the good of the collective cause.

Back in 2005 it seemed England had created the best-run professional cricket system in the world. Even the Australians were asking for advice. But it seems England just got lucky, with a good set of players on a run free of injury.

Fletcher understandably spares his long-time ally, David Morgan, the then-chairman, whom he praises for his loyalty, but few other officials at the England and Wales Cricket Board escape censure. After almost eight years working with them, Fletcher had plainly learnt to trust almost nobody. When Micky Stewart, a member of the Schofield report group tasked with reviewing England’s performances from 2003 to 2007, told Fletcher that he was regarded as a poor communicator, Fletcher replied: “I would communicate more if there was more confidentiality. I know there is none, so I keep things to myself. Why talk if people are going to blab?” It is a comment that has the ring of truth about it.

As for selection meetings, what a Punch and Judy show they sound. Rod Marsh concentrated on talking up his charges, regardless of whether they were ready to play Test cricket or not, just so he could hold his head up when he got back to the national academy, where 80% of batsmen, apparently, were failing to improve. That was when Marsh was not shouting and screaming because he had not been consulted about a change of wicketkeeper, only for David Graveney to admit that he had omitted to tell him. Then there is Graveney himself, seemingly chairman only in name, arriving for meetings hotfoot from his latest phone call to check what Ian Botham thought, then sitting on his hands whenever the tricky decisions came up.

Not that Fletcher was without fault. You wouldn’t expect him to admit mistakes – and he doesn’t – but his errors are plain enough. He even seemed to lose the knack of getting his own way. He wanted Matt Prior to replace Geraint Jones in August 2006, but got Chris Read instead, as he did when the squad was chosen for Australia. In Adelaide he wanted Monty Panesar to come in for James Anderson as a second spinner, but the rest of the management wanted only one spinner, Ashley Giles.

The most serious charge against Fletcher is one he cannot hope to share with others: his failure to punish Flintoff for turning up in his shambolic state for practice in Sydney. Fletcher’s explanation, that he did not want to hand the media a juicy story, only highlights his growing impotence. No wonder Flintoff offended again, and no wonder Fletcher wonders whether he should have taken more control of situations.

Compare this handling of Flintoff with how Australia dealt with Andrew Symonds when he turned up on the morning of a one-day international against Bangladesh in Cardiff in 2005 stinking of alcohol after a night on the tiles. They fined him and suspended him for two matches. Symonds has not only kept a clean disciplinary record since, but has become a hugely influen-tial player.

Flaws revealed by Fletcher

1 Many players had become too powerful. Andrew Flintoff was made captain for Australia partly for fear of how Flintoff and Steve Harmison might behave were he not in charge. When Darren Gough criticised the England coach during the World Cup, Fletcher wanted him punished, but the board did nothing

2 The ECB mismanaged many situations. The board knew Fletcher wielded too much power but when he twice offered to resign as a selector, board offi cials talked him out of it. The board let fast bowling coach Troy Cooley leave by offering him only a one-year extension to his contract

3 England’s selection process was turbulent. Fletcher lost confi dence in David Graveney, the chairman, who he said was reluctant to make diffi cult decisions and was swayed by TV commentator Sir Ian Botham. Graveney failed to keep Rod Marsh, another selector, informed about talks on a change of wicketkeeper, forcing Marsh to apologise for his protests

4 Fletcher’s leadership powers were on the wane in his last 12 months.

He wanted Matt Prior rather than Chris Read to replace Geraint Jones as wicketkeeper, and Monty Panesar and Sajid Mahmood to replace James Anderson and Steve Harmison for the Test in Adelaide, yet none of these things happened

If Fletcher sometimes felt too close to his players to hand out the necessary punishments, the hope must be that Hugh Morris, the new managing director of the England team, will not feel so compromised.

Restoring discipline must be his priority, particularly given that since Flintoff’s exploits we have had Anderson shoulder-charging an opponent, the puerile jelly-bean antics at Trent Bridge and Paul Collingwood’s ill-advised late night out in South Africa.