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.

It's all about the performance

This morning, over a wonderful breakfast of scrambled eggs , my wife proclaimed “I tend to think that cricket is the greatest thing that God ever created on earth - certainly greater than sex, although sex isn't too bad either." Now I know a trap when I see one and this one had very sharp teeth poised to spring painfully shut if I managed to put my proverbial foot in it. So I paused before replying - not for effect you understand, but to desperately think whether I was supposed to agree with this statement or to counter with some reference to our thirty-odd years of married bliss - as being informed that our sex life wasn't 'too bad' I took as a real result.

 

Luckily before I could think of a reply that would guarantee I wasn't eating my last plate of scrambled eggs, my wife added with ill-disguised mirth, and without looking up from the newspaper, "well according to Harold Pinter that is". I wasn't sure whether her mirth was directed at the eyebrow-raising idea that cricket was better than sex or the scorn-raising notion that sex (with me at any rate) isn't too bad. Discretion being the better part of a succcesful marriage I busied myself with making the coffee and laughed along with her. But it got me thinking.

Clearly an asset to any team -
even without the proper protection

Perhaps, now that the cat was out of the kit bag as it were, I could turn this conversation to my advantage as I recalled that a few years ago, when Gary Kirsten was in charge of the India team, he issued all the players with a well-researched edict to have sex, and lots of it, as this was believed to be the key to add extra passion and agression into the players' performances (on the cricket field I assume). Kirsten's advice caused a ruckus at the time although I am not sure whether this was because it just increased the pressure to perform (in the bedroom that is) or whether some people were upset thay weren't given the opportunity to contribute to the research. But, I reminded myself, Kirsten did take India to become the number one Test team, so maybe this training regime has some merit worth persuing.

So, I decided, the road to success for me as a player, and the consequential positive results for my Sunday Socials team, is as clear as the benefit of a deep-heat muscle rub - a rigorous regime of heart-thumping sex before I stride out to dominate the bowling with forceful strokes to every part. All I have to do now is convince my wife of the benefits of her particpation in the programme and show her how to undo the straps holding my box in place. Thinking about it though, before risking the loss of scrambled eggs, perhaps I should practice by myself first.

Success through succession

It is the season of pantomines and the ICC has laid on its best comic pairing to perform for us in February next year with a double act of India's Peter Pans trying to ham it up with Australia's Wizards of Oz. Us cricket fans looking for a few belly laughs to shake off the winter blues are in for a real treat as India look to keep Sachin in the same line up as Sewag and Gumbair (Bashful, Dopey and Grumpy?) in a desperate attempt to cast their own spells over the Aussies.

Indian selectors are rigorously rubbing their magic lamps in the hope that an IPL Genie will appear and grant them a wish for a batsman or two who can score runs and not get stage fright at the sound of the tick tock of a croc in a frock. For sure enough in a puff of marijuana smoke, the arch Aussie villainous wizard, Shane Warne, is trying to make his own comeback as Peter Pan. Mind you, after his Liz Hurley makeover, at least Shane will look the part.

So long boys - and thanks for the fish

How is it that the two former great nations of world cricket have been reduced to playing the ugly sisters to the Cinderella and Prince Charming that are England and South Africa at the moment? In a word - succession - or more accurately, two words - no succession.

The Aussies were taken by surprise as some the best players ever to grace world cricket all decided to leave the stage at the same time with the crowd still wanting more. Ponting has now gone as well and Hussey can't be too far behind. Not surprisingly the remaining Aussie cast look more than a bit luck lustre without their star performers. Whilst the Aussie batting is being held together by their new leading man, they have not found any suitable stand-ins for the magical bowling pairing of Warney and McGrath. In particular Australia do not currently have a spin bowler that would scare even the Cowardly Lion. For Australia's own Lyon has, despite some early snarling, shown to be toothless - he recently toiled for 32 wicket-less overs against Sri Lanka before being booed off the stage. Any repeat performance from Lyon is likely to be greeted with cries of 'he's behind you' as Shane tries to convince the selectors that his new slim foot can squeeze into the glass slipper and once again become the belle of the ball.

Exit stage left

India's woeful performance against England showed just how much they missed experienced batsmen who knew how to withstand the pressures of Test cricket and bat for long periods. Sachin (38) looked like he was batting in treacle most of the time, unable to move quickly enough, and the other senior batsmen of Gumbhir (31), Yuvraj (31) and Sehwag (34) played only cameo parts at best but at least Pujara showed what the new boys can do and Kohli sneaked in a performance that confirmed he will be part of the batting line up for some time to come. But it was the bowlers that looked most in need of some new talent. Zaher Khan (34), who out-bowled the England seamers in their own back yard when India won the Pataudi trophy and the series 1-0  in 2007, was dropped before the last Test for being unfit and out of form - Harbhajan (32), so often a talisman for India, followed him out of the door.

So faced with ageing players what have Australia and India done about succession? Well if imitation is the sincerest form of flattery then you may forgive the ECB for looking a bit pleased with themselves as Australia instigated their own report after the humiliating 2010 Ashes big bashing handed out to the baggy greens on their own turf. The Angus review was the result and with it the appointment of Pat Howard as performance manager of the Australian team. In my view this could be a brilliant left field appointment, for although Howard is primarily a rugby player and coach, he is definately an innovator and achiever who will have clear plan of what he thinks needs to be done. It's early days and the jury is still out for Howard as although young players are coming through, the injury list of fast bowlers is hampering his plan - and of course the search for a decent spin bowler is now becoming desparate.

As for India, well of course Indian cricket and all it decisions are political first and based upon performance second. Only very recently have cricket academies been set up in India - mostly through the IPL franchises - and in answer to the selectors' recent call to identify new young talent, the independantly minded and proud states in India loudly proclaimed their own sons and handed down a list of 124 players to the national selectors. The next Kumble may be in that list somewhere but he will take some finding.

So come the Australia test series in India I think it will be safe to say that not one bowler from the combined teams would find a place in either the current England or South Africa line ups - and when did that last happen? It could be years before the recently instigated succession plans bear any fruit for these once overly blessed nations. In the meanwhile India could be driven further away from Test cricket as lack of success kills off any lingering public interest that has not already been seduced away by the obvious charms of the IPL - but that's a story for another day.

A Fateful Day for Dhoni

There was a key moment in the Nagpur Test today at the end of an absorbing third day's cricket in which the team captains went head to head. MS Dhoni, having played 245 deliveries with hitherto unseen patience, showed for the first time during his gritty innings the pressure under which he was playing.

 

The Indian captain is not one to show much emotion but having taken 16 balls to score 4 runs and creep, uncharacteristically, to 99, he then had to endure watching Ashwin play out two overs, so Dhoni had more time than was perhaps healthy to contemplate that this hundred would be a strident message to send to all those doubters calling for his head. No surprise then that when his opportunity came MS was looking for a simple push and run to cap off a defiant performance. Perhaps in the stress of the moment he didn't take enough time to look up and realise that all the England fielders had just stepped in two paces and that a single to mid-off, that he had taken many times before, was not going to be quite so simple for this all important one run.

 

One run is one too many for Dhoni

Fate, which knows how to turn a footnote into a headline, dictated that MS would push the ball to his opposing team captain -England's man of the moment, Captain Cook. Forgive me for mentioning that Cook, ever-reliable as he is, is not known for his swooping ground fielding and dead eye throwing, but when it's your day all things are possible and for ten memory-blurring seconds, it was as if Collingwood was standing at mid-off when Dhoni set off for his well deserved run in expectation of thrusting his bat, katar dagger like, into the traitorous hearts of his non-believers.

 

But Dhoni failed by the thickness of a ten rupee note (which is now due to be phased out, just like some of the Indian players) to make his ground and deliver the defining innings of his captaincy this series - for it was Cook that monsooned on Dhoni's parade in anticipating the shot and making a squeaky clean pick up, before pausing for a sharp intake of breathe so as to take aim at the only stump he could see, and then deliver his own mobile message to the Indian team, watching anxiously from the balcony, with a direct hit right in the middle of the hapless India team's mobile phone sponsor's logo. Dhoni, knowing that his part in the drama was over, carried on running to leave the field, and his tail-enders, to whatever fate would now decide.

 

The character of a Test team is so often in the image of its captain and so it was that England - patient, self-assured, determined and fit - moved in for the kill against this India team - full of flare and talented individuals but lacking cohesion and single purpose team ethos - and struck again, in the last over of the day, to ensure that the fate of a winning series in India that they crave is once again in their own hands.

 

Did Dhoni do enough to spare his own fate or did he just fall short? It may be that Dhoni's fate is now inextricably linked to that of the President of the BCCI, N Srinivasan, who overruled the other selectors when they unanimousily decided to replace Dhoni for this Test. As fate would have it, Dhoni is captain of the Chennai Super Kings IPL team, which is owned by Srinivasam, so it would appear that Dhoni's place is secure for the time being as India look to redeem themselves in the T20s and ODIs after Christmas. But I wouldn't tempt fate with predictions.



Cook(in) the books

Don't get me wrong - no one is happier than me watching AN Cook (Nathan apparently, but that's a story for his parents), grind the opposition bowlers into the dust. I thought that Cooky's performance in Australia during the 2010/11 Ashes series was as good as it gets in seeing Siddle & co eating the dirt dished out by England's favourite son, but after the annihilation in Ahmedabad my delight knows no bounds when watching Ashwin and Ojha looking dusty, dejected and demoralised as Cook waits like a King Cobra to pounce on any deliver that strays into his strike zone.

Today cricket followers are in stats heaven as on his way to his 23rd hundred Cook also became the youngest player ever to score 7000 runs and the first captain to get a hundred in each of his first five test matches and...ok I know you have read it all by now, but my moan is that (and my regular readers will now be hearing the loud neighing of a hobby-horse of mine) - it is a batsman's game. The yeomen bowlers just don't seem to get the same accolades for their outstanding performances as is bestowed upon the batting gentry. Let's get the statisticians at their own game.

Cook is currently 23rd in the all time list of hundreds in a career - someway behind Tendulkar (51), Kallis (44) and Ponting (remember him?, 41). It is said (and don't question this as I have read lots of boring articles and reviewed lots of stats to save you the effort and tell you it is so) that scoring a hundred is the equivalent to a bowler achieving a five-wicket haul. Leading the list of five wicket hauls is, no surprise, the ICC's famous law changer, Muralitharan with 67 followed by Warne (37) and Sirich Hadlee (36). So putting the magical Murali to one side these stats seem to support the comparison. The English list of bowlers with five-wicket hauls is headed by Sirian (27), followed by SF Barnes (24) and Truman (17), which again bears comparison to the English batting list of century makers.

So what? my son might say (not that he reads these pearls of wisdom - he is too busy thinking up ever more expensive ways of sending me to my grave quickly and penniless). But in true English fashion I want to shout out that it's just not fair. Sure, we say the right things about the bowlers - 'bowlers win matches' - but this is just like throwing our dog a few scraps after the batmen have had their fill of superlatives from a batsman-centric press. Listen to Sky commentators after a poor team batting performance - its all about changing the bowling line up, or the need to 'rest' a bowler. And it's only recently that bowlers have decided to hold up a ball after their 'fifer' and acknowledge the applause of the crowd. It's just not fair. So the next time a batsman's stats are flashed up on your screen to demonstrate his prowess, remember that as far as cricket is concerned there are lies, damn lies and batting statistics.

Who to boo now?

Time to come clean - I have always had a love/hate relationship with Ricky Ponting (as in I love to hate him). But with Ricky's last Test innings looming it is only right to admit to some 'previous' and take you back to Edgbaston, day 4, in that fabulous Ashes winning 2009 series.

 

On 2nd August 2009 on Sky Sports TV, and again in the Times the following morning, Michael Atherton called my behaviour ‘disgraceful’. This was not a personal attack you understand, but his comment on the behaviour of the Edgbaston crowd (of which I was part – but not the Barmy Army) when we booed Ricky Ponting’s arrival at the crease. No doubt my fellow Surrey members and Valley team mates agreed with Mr Atherton’s comments as they watched TV with a beer or read their newspaper over breakfast and may be surprised to learn of my involvement. However, to coin a phrase, ‘they weren’t there’ and an explanation is therefore required.

 

Michael Atherton understandably defended a fellow professional sportsman against what he thought was a lack of respect. I am part of a group to which neither of these outstanding players belongs – the professional spectator who also deserves some respect. We not only directly fund their profession but we unreservedly support the national teams for whom they play. Some of the English section of this group risked divorce and poverty to support our team in Australia in the forgotten (but unfortunately not by ‘those who were there’) Ashes tour of 2007/8. Despite less than wonderful performances by our team I do not recall anything other than great unstinting support, with almost no bad language and plenty of black humour, from this group of professional spectators. Certainly there was no booing however deserved that might have been.

I say this to make the point that we know our cricket and we also know that our support can lift a team when it’s down as well as provide that 12^th man effect to achieve a special performance – as it certainly did at Edgbaston on this particular Sunday.

I think that the subtlety of the booing (or negative cheering as I prefer to think of it) on this day was lost on Athers – understandably as he has no supporter experience in such matters. But I have no doubt it was not lost on our favourite Australian captain. He had already heard our ironic cheers for Mitchell Johnston (‘Super, Super Mitch’) and knew our support was lifting the English team as both Broad and then Swann followed Freddie’s lead in facing up to Australia’s wonder bowler.

 

The spontaneous negative cheering of Ricky by us supporters that greeted his walk to the wicket was precisely because we do respect his wonderful batting. We know his talent can turn a match and make the difference between a win and a draw and that at this moment getting him out quickly was vital to our progress. However we also know that it is possible to get under his skin and we were doing the only thing we could to do so.

 

Ricky played his part in this theatrical performance – he was late arriving from the changing room and his walk to the wicket was slow and defiant as the booing reached the level of a howling gale. I have no doubt Ponting relished the challenge and accepted the supporters’ performance for what it was – a gauntlet being thrown down. So too, I have to say, did Swann who, always one to rise to the occasion, then bowled a magnificent set of almost unplayable balls to RP.

 

Swann may have bowled the ball that opened up Ricky’s defence but we provided the special atmosphere and partisan support that set the stage for him to do so. Ten minutes of wonderful sport and pulsating theatre later Ricky walked back to the biggest cheer of the day – English supporters 1, Australia’s captain 0 - and I was there.