In one-upmanship, the batsman’s won.

Even the prospect of Watson thinking he was on top riled me, so when after one delivery we got into a bit of a stare-off, I refused to back down. He stood there, gazing right at me, not moving, so I did exactly the same back. There was no way I was willing to blink first, so instead of turning around I started walking backwards, maintaining eye contact as I went.

A few yards back I considered that it could end really awkwardly, if I collided with the umpire or tripped on the back of one of my boot heels, but I kept going in reverse all the way, and, unusually, he refused to break his stare either. This was strange because Watson is a bit of an obsessive-compulsive about walking away from the crease between deliveries.

This time, however, he remained steadfast and, naturally, I considered that making him do something different was taking him out of his routine. To be honest, I will upset a batsman in any way that I can. Until I’ve seen the back of them. Having maintained his attention all the way back to my mark, without so much as a flinch from either of us, I shoved my hand out towards Alastair Cook at mid off in anticipation of him lobbing the ball into my palm.

Cookie, having latched on to what I was doing, later informed me it was the most pressured he had ever felt executing an underarm throw! He just had my right hand, arched like a claw, to aim at but thankfully I managed to see the ball coming out of the corner of my eye, and maintained my necessary degree of cool by refusing to turn my head. My gaze was fixed on Watson as I ran all the way to the crease, its termination only coming as my head dipped in delivery stride.

I have never been one to back down and, without a doubt, my best attribute is an inherent will to win. Since I can remember, I have been obsessed with winning. Whatever I do, whether it’s an international cricket match or a game of darts or cards with the lads waiting for the rain to stop, it has to be competitive. And if it’s competitive, I want to come out on top. As a boy I wanted to win at everything, and that competitiveness has never left me.

Earlier in my career, I guess, I so wanted to do well that my aggression often stemmed from frustration more than anything else. If things were not going as I wished, and I was bowling badly, I would be mad with myself and end up taking that anger out on opponents.

It has only been in recent years, since working with Mark Bawden, the England team psychologist, that I have been able to control and channel that aggression positively. Mark has effectively helped me use my competitive edge to ensure I am operating at the very top of my game. So, whereas in the past it has revealed itself in its basest form, my antagonistic streak might actually be considered creative.

Mark’s take on my on-field personality has encouraged me not to worry too much about image – although I am acutely aware that I have a responsibility not to go too far, and sometimes get a bit too close to the mark. I perform at my best, and this is something Mark and I both recognize, when I create a direct battle between myself and a certain batsman. So that the contest extends beyond each ball that I send down, and each one that the batsman repels, to the words we exchange.

I have never been shy of offering advice to batsmen but what I can say unequivocally is that I am so much better at delivering it these days. In the past, I might have let the verbals take over from the main show. Now, however, I actively ensure that as soon as I have a go at someone, it is forgotten, so that when I turn around and walk back to my mark, I become completely focused on the next ball. There is a technique to clearing your mind of everything external.

When I am out on the field, with ball in hand, I constantly think about whether sledging someone will aid the team cause. Obviously, first and foremost I think about where I am bowling the ball, exclusively so when, with a clear head, I am trudging back to my mark between deliveries. And if I have said something to the batter, rather than dwell on the context, I am then thinking about the ball I have just bowled, and where the next ball should be going.

There has to be clarity about your game plan, and developing the skill of switching on and off, and becoming wiser in selecting who to undermine and how, can improve a bowler’s effectiveness. It certainly has in my case.

Being this clinical about it takes no little amount of practice, and there is no doubt in my mind that the mental side of the game is something that you can get better at. After each day’s play in a Test match, or after each one-day or Twenty20 game, I will sit down with Mark and he will ask me where I thought I was in terms of filtering my aggression, and verbally exchanging with opponents. If I think I overstepped a line, and I often do, I will say so – the same goes if I could have lured someone in more – and we will effectively mark my performance.

Reviewing how you have felt on the field can be a cathartic process. For example, if you have not felt at ease in a match for whatever reason and can identify why, it can be stored away for the future. And generally knowing in what kind of mood you perform at your best is important. Some people need to be pumped up and confrontational while others need to be quiet and focused, and knowing what mood you need to be in to be at your optimum can be important for the team.

This is where Mark comes into his own. It was no coincidence to me that Mark was working intensely with Alastair Cook when he went through that golden period of form around the 2010–11 Ashes. His development since has partly been down to attempting to replicate ideal conditions for him to flourish.