Use your head - don't wear a helmet

Did you see Bell, Root and Dhoni all batting at times without helmets during the ODI series in India? A pleasant surprise for me as I have always thought that the wearing of a helmet somehow impersonalises batsmen as they all tend to look the same under a lid. But it got me thinking - how has the wearing of a helmet changed batting technique since my day?

 

I am old enough to have learnt my cricket in the days before helmets. My protection then was pads, gloves and those sickly-looking pink plastic boxes (one size fits all), and as the bowling got faster I used a towel as a thigh pad, but it never occurred to me to protect my head. Many years later when I was still batting without a helmet I was showing my wife a graze on my forehead from a ball that had somehow beaten my solid defence -
“You wear a box don’t you?” she asked with welcome interest.
“Of course” I replied with a smile to reassure her all was still in working order.
“Well” she retorted “you have your priorities all wrong”.
Well maybe, if you are an ageing amateur cricketer with a family to provide for, but perhaps not if you are 11 years old and want to become an outstanding batsman.

To avoid injury it is vital to watch the ball
- Strauss follows the instructions

The human brain, in times of danger from injury, reacts instinctively to protect one part of the body before all others – the head. If you are faced with a projectile arrowing in on your head, you do not have to fight your natural instinct; the brain will take over and do its best to get your head out of the firing line. Research suggests that practice of certain techniques will hone reaction times and will also speed up what are now know as ‘twitch muscles’. In batting terms this means the more often you face a ball coming towards you, the better you will be at taking the necessary action. But this action will vary depending on many factors; the speed of the ball and its angle of deliver, as well as the surface on which it bounces – the pitch. Young batsmen therefore need to be trained in, and experience, all types of conditions and deliveries in order to learn the best action to take, whether evasive or pro-active. And I am not sure that wearing a helmet whilst batting really helps in honing instinct, muscles and decision making that are all necessary for turning good technique into a reliable skill.

Batting in England in bowling-friendly conditions against good seam bowlers will test the very best batsmen and quickly defeat the merely good. If a batsman has little experience in such conditions, batting becomes almost impossible - just look at how the current (admittedly very good) English seam attack completely destroyed and bemused the best batsman from India, Pakistan and West Indies. Now consider Hashim Amla of South Africa – against England in 2008 he scored 275 runs in his seven innings, four years later Amla was the rock of the top order batting with 482 runs in five innings that helped South Africa dominate and secure a series win. What is the difference between the years? Probably that Amla played for Essex and Nottingham in 2009/10 and re-learnt his technique for our seaming conditions. But how does this relate to the wearing of helmets?

 

When I was a teenager learning how to play seam bowling (mostly on uncovered wickets) I was indoctrinated with the mantra ‘watch it early, play it late’. If you got yourself forward too early then it was almost impossible to make adjustments for any seam movement off the pitch – which is what happened more often than not. So I learnt how to move into position as late as possible, use a short back lift, and punch the ball - elegant cover drives were only for later when your eye was in and you had the measure of the pitch, if not the bowling.

Edrich playing the ball late off the back foot
- look at where his back foot is pointing

Against fast bowling there was the added problem of ensuring you didn’t get hurt – a short pitched ball was not only likely to get up to head height it was also likely to be moving off the seam. Fast bowlers have always been keen to test a batsman with their bouncer early on and would pound you if you showed excessive fear or any weakness in technique. You learnt to watch the ball very closely and to take evasive action very late by swaying your head away from the line of the ball. You were told never to take your eye off the ball and look away. In those days batsmen got hit on the head when they ducked or turned their head away and didn’t follow the ball until the last minute. But guess what – I never got hit in the head directly from a delivery. However a consequence of this approach to short pitched balls was that you learnt pretty quickly how to play off the back foot – particularly through the off-side. This is because back foot shots gave you time to watch the ball and play it late. All the opening English top order batsmen, who learnt their cricket before the introduction of helmets, had to be good back foot players – Boycott, Edrich and Gower being masters of this art.

Helmets were first worn in the Packer World Series in 1978 with Denis Amis sensibly deciding that the West Indian quicks were too formidable on hard Australian wickets for his skills. (Incidentally with protective boxes being introduced in 1878 you could say that it took men 100 years to reassess their priorities in line with my wife’s thinking). With the advent of helmets, and particularly the compulsive wearing of helmets for youths, batting techniques started to change. This change has accelerated in the last ten years due to the introduction of shorter forms of the game which encourage big hitting and the development of bigger bats. Pitches at all levels of the game are now covered and have as a consequence become more batting-friendly surfaces. But it is the wearing of helmets that has allowed batsmen to introduce new batting techniques without fear of getting hit in the face or head. The Dilsham scoop is a shot that only a madman would play without a helmet and the increasingly popular sweep is a shot I was always told brings your head in line with the ball with the inherent risk of being hit in the face – but the helmet eliminates that concern.





Gayle cuts the ball for six
- a front foot shot now

Wearing a helmet also allows batsmen to get on the front foot early – if the ball rears up or the ball is pitched in short, then the batsman is not in real danger even if he isn’t good enough to play a decent shot. A big shot requires a big back lift and this is only really possible with a front foot shot. In the one day games, cuts and pulls are now played off the front foot more often than not – the big bats mean that the ball is easily lifted high in the air, or hit flat and hard - either way there are far more sixes hit square of the wicket now than there were ten years ago.

 

It is sad to conclude that good technique back foot play appears to be a skill of the past – only mastered by players brought up without wearing helmets in their formative years. Dravid, who didn’t wear a helmet until he was seventeen, played the ball late off his back foot, his left foot pointing between point or cover depending on where he wanted to hit the ball, or he waited and tucked the ball deftly off his hip - but Dravid was one of an increasingly rare breed. I believe that unless and until batsmen ‘relearn’ back foot play then they will always be very susceptible to good seam bowling. Of course helmets are a sensible protection for most of us, but perhaps coaches need to be given some freedom to discard the helmet occasionally to teach back foot technique to youngsters. What are your priorities – safety or skill?

If it's not cricket what is it?

Cheat. Of all the insults and accusations that can be directed at a sportsman, being called a cheat is a barb that causes a deeper cut than any other abuse and much more likely to leave its indelible scar for the rest of a career. Recently cheating has taken up more than its fair share of column inches on the back pages of newspapers - Armstrong's use of drugs is making the headlines again, and a goal with the helping hand of Suarez has also exercised the the minds and attitudes of sports' journalists towards cheating.

 

But it was one obituary of Christopher Martin Jenkins ('CMJ') that, surprisingly, also included a cheating reference, for in his piece Michael Atherton said that CMJ, being a former amateur cricketer rather than an ex-professional (who now dominate cricket journalism), was the last cricket journalist who would walk if he thought he was out rather than wait for the umpire's decision. Simon Barnes took up the same theme and put forward his own code of conduct for walking - professional cricketers, whose livelihood is at stake, shouldn't be expected to walk nowadays whereas amateur batsmen are honour bound to do so. Barnes related a story of a friend who, having been given not out after nicking one to the keeper, was so ashamed and mortified that he did not walk, that he contrived to get himself out as quickly as possible. A clear cut code for Barnes perhaps but is it as straightforward as that for most of us?

 

When talking about 'not walking' we are, of course, only referring to the occasion when a batsman, perhaps, gives to the ball the thinnest of edges from his bat, or the merest feather of a touch from his glove, before it passes into the hands of the wicket keeper. The bowler and keeper are convinced the batsmen has hit the cover off the ball - they are sure there was a distinct noise and even a deflection - but the batsman stands his ground, the umpire shakes his head and, as the laws of the game determine, makes the decision that the batsmen is not out. Let us remember that the umpire's decision is also based upon giving the benefit of any doubt to the batsman - again as required by the laws.

 



“Just want to apologise for not walking off the ground tonight when I hit the ball. I was just so disappointed, my emotions got best of me” – Michael Clarke on Twitter.
The only time an Australian walks is when his car breaks down.

All of us have seen what, more often than not, happens next. Words are loudly and pointedly exchanged between the fielding side and sometimes comments are directed at the batsman. The implication, backed up by an accusation, is that the batsman is cheating by not walking. Every player knows that the laws do not oblige the batsman to admitting he touched the ball, give himself out, and walk off, but somehow the culture of cricket has evolved to put the onus on the batsman in this particular circumstance.

 

Is cricket alone amongst sports in having this strange code of honour that - let us remember - relates to only one of many ways in which a batsmen can be given out - for there is certainly no similar expectation that a batsman should give himself out for a run-out or stumping if the umpire decides otherwise? Golf is often cited as having the highest standard of code of self regulation on players - but such a code of conduct is enshrined in golf's vast array of rules - there is no umpire on hand to make such decisions. Tennis, hockey, American football, baseball, basketball, rugby, soccer, in fact any ball game with a referee or umpire, all do not require the players to make any decisions themselves - never mind anything as important as ending a player's own participation in the game.

 

Perhaps cricket likes to think it is special in having such an implied code of honour for its players? If so this is particularly odd now that DRS (the decision review system) is widely used in the professional game and players and umpires alike can see, that even with the help of sophisticated technology, how difficult it is to decide if a batsman has really hit the ball. Does the batsman himself always know if he touched the ball?

 

So where does that leave us, the amateur cricketers, in dealing with this legacy of honour handed down by players of yesteryear from a different time with different values? With due deference to Mr Barnes I don't think his code works for us so let me suggest an alternative approach that recognises the vagaries of amateur cricket and the 'professional' ethos of club league cricket today.

 

I think that if the umpires are qualified, independent and standing for the whole match, then a batsman has every right to stand his ground and wait for the umpire's decision for a catch behind. Of course a batsman may walk if he wants to but it should not be expected nor a cause for abuse if he doesn't - it's his choice. However if an umpire is only standing in to help out, is one of your own players, or is one of your club's umpires, then if you think you hit the ball and the catch behind was clean, then you should walk without waiting for the umpire's decision. My code is not about the standard of cricket being played but the status of the umpires. I think this is how the code of conduct started - it's just no fair to put that much pressure on a 'friendly' umpire. In fact, as our grandfathers would have said - it's just not cricket.

Fifty Dots of Grey

I was so engrossed in inspecting my old and well worn equipment in readiness for the beginning of another exciting summer of playing around the county, that I didn't hear her approach me from behind. "Excuse me"  - I turned around startled, still holding the balls I had found in the fold of my kit, to see the source of the husky yet obviously feminine siren voice. "Can you help me - it's just that I am looking for someone to show me how to score?" she asked hopefully. And so began a partnership that for one glorious unforgettable summer would make me feel like I was once again the star performer of my youth.

Emily was down from University she explained, and was looking for something unusual to add to her skills during the hot summer days. "My brother suggested I come down to this club and offer my services." Her shining green eyes briefly looked down demurely but she quickly returned my gaze with a defiant look. "I know I am not experienced but I am a quick learner" she whispered softly. Against my better judgement I agreed to take her on for a trial period - getting someone to score with in sleepy Valley was a real challenge so I was prepared to put in the effort to teach her the secret language of BDSM - balls by dots scoring method .

"You must do exactly what I tell you - one small slip and you will find yourself in a very difficult position which will leave you completely exposed and open to a tongue lashing by the umpires". Emily nodded enthusiastically and I saw the merest flicker of a smile over her face. "First" I continued, "it is essential to have the correct tools for the job - I don't show many people what I have got and I certainly don't share it around with anyone". And to Emily's delight I pulled from my pocket an old and well-worn pencil case. "In there you will find everything you need - from the reliable stubby one to the larger coloured ones that are so popular nowadays - oh and not forgetting a varied selection of rubbers - we don't want one silly mistake to ruin your fun."

Emily gingerly handled the pencil case, "Will it be hard?" she gulped, "Of course" I replied "putting your mark six times in a small box requires intense concentration and a sharp instrument." And so Emily's course of instruction started.

Emily was indeed a quick and able pupil but also very demanding, as she not only wanted to learn how to score, but also to understand as much about the game as possible. She was clearly fascinated with my helmet, "Why do you need a strap?" she asked as she carefully caressed its smooth surface. "Because if you pull to leg quickly you need to make sure it's still firmly in place" and I demonstrated the action with quick and firm hands. "Ohhh" she moaned "I love it when you use such incredible control" so to show her I knew all about being firm with her, I had her stand at short leg - "you won't be there for long without getting one right where it hurts" I warned her, but she just widened her legs and crouched down lower in readiness. I knew then that Emily was not one to take anything lying down.

Over that sultry summer we scored together regularly and without fail Emily showed enthusiastically that she had got what it takes when it came to being disciplined with new found skills. She was happy to be pinned down for hours, unable to move in case she missed any of the action, whilst I stood over her ready to admonish her with a firm reprimand if she ever forgot to check the number of balls. 

 

As the summer nights drew in it was clear that she was able to keep going longer than I was used to, so I reluctantly decided she was ready to take on the next level. "Right, you can do the friendly stuff" I told her brusquely  "but let's see how you handle the speed and the quick instant gratification of something I have been hiding from you until now - a twenty over thrash". I needn't have worried - Emily was soon whipped into a frenzy of delight as she flicked her head between the action and her delicately crafted hand, moving quickly to first put in the incoming batsman, whose massive shots went to all parts and quickly filled her box, before he was spent and she was registering the next man in who would take over with renewed vigour.

I looked on with sadness at the relish she showed at such multiple involvement - the harder it was the more she concentrated on the task in hand -  and I realised that Emily was lost to me now. I had taught her the discipline needed to handle the roughest of games and it was obvious her head was no longer turned by the idea of scoring on a friendly Sunday afternoon where the most frightening equipment on display is Nige's worn down spikes. At least, I mused as the rain started to fall and Emily desperately tried to cover her exposed set up, I wouldn't have to explain to her the truly dark arts of the Duckworth Lewis method.