The left-right divide

When Ian Botham played the shot, it looked ugly all right but it seemed to befit the man and his cheekiness. It appeared to contravene the spirit of the law, but in a harmless and endearing sense, not unlike a Javed Miandad stealing a single after giving the fielding team the impression that he considered the ball dead. So it became accepted as the Botham shot (though he did not quite invent the stroke) and gradually, other players, many less accomplished than Botham and some more, started attempting the stroke, with mixed results.

Mike Gatting’s famous dismissal in the finals of the 1987 World Cup was promising: will it mean the death of the shot? Unfortunately, but rightly so, the man got pilloried more than the stroke. The reverse sweep survived. Today when Rahul Dravid plays it, it's his statement that he can play unorthodox shots, and thus is not a misfit for Twenty20. When Matthew Hayden plays the left-hander’s version of it, it seemed to be one more manifestation of his ugly-but-hugely-effective run-gathering approach.

When Kevin Pietersen launched those two left-handed sixes off Scott Styris (one of them through long-off / long-on!) en route to a match-winning century against the New Zealanders earlier this week, I groaned. (I know he did it once before against Muthiah Muralitharan in a test match, but then once is an exception, twice is a trend.) Come on, this was not a gentle paddle to fine-leg / third-man for an ambled single; this was just playing the other way around. Instead of a light-hearted skirt around the spirit of the game, it was becoming another tool for batsmen to terrorise bowlers. Surely it was time for the administrators to step in and do something?

Step in they did, but do something they did not. They investigated and decided that the ‘switch hit’ (note the change in terminology: it’s no longer the reverse sweep; on such subtleties does the game change) is “exciting to the game of cricket” and therefore gave it an all-clear sign. Michael Holding, the patron-saint of bowlers, questioned the double standards at play here, arguing that when bowlers cannot change hands midway without intimating the umpires, why should batsmen be allowed to do so. The MCC response?

They [bowlers] do not provide a warning of the type of delivery that they will bowl (for example, an off-cutter or a slower ball). It therefore concludes that the batsman should have the opportunity – should they wish – of executing the ‘switch-hit’ stroke.

Sure they’re comparing different fruits here? The bowler’s craft involves mixing things up – slower ones, yorkers, bouncers, etc. – while bowling with one hand and the batsmen respond with their own execution strategies, in terms of what stroke to play – drive, cut, pull, hook, defence, leave, etc. – while also batting in one stance. That’s the comparison, and it ends there.

Now with the legitimisation of the ‘switch-hit’ (it still does not have enough legitimacy with me to escape the inverted commas), batsmen, the deprived souls that they are, get an advantage over the bowler. So if you can’t play leg-spin properly, all you need to do is change grips so the ball comes into you rather than turn away. Sure, such ambidexterity is not easy, but at least batsmen can practice the shot and the ‘gifted’ ones like KP may come off successful. But what about the bowlers? Bowling off one’s other hand is even more difficult, so even granting that for bowlers is not a reasonable levelling out.

The anti-bowlers’ campaign carries on mercilessly, as the MCC and the other bodies benignly preside over the gradual inevitable death of the game. To begin with, the death of the bowler. Why would any one want to be a bowler in a batsman’s game? It’s about as intelligent as launching a new brand of typewriters in the market today.

Forget test cricket versus Twenty20, let’s stoke the batsmen versus bowlers argument.

Wood is in again

John Stephenson, the head of the MCC Laws Committee, is due to present a recommendation prohibiting the use of composite material in cricket bats, says a report on Cricinfo. If the recommendation goes through, bats will be made of willow and bat handles with cane, rubber and glue. Did I hear a bowler sigh in expectant relief?

Many an opinion can be expressed on many an aspect of it. Do we have enough scientific evidence to prove that material like graphite and titanium have made an impact on the game? Are we impeding progress? Can we not look at making changes to the ball to help bowlers rather than denying batsmen? Is it the material that is the problem or is it the rules?)

One statement from Stephenson is curious in its intent.

The MCC and bat manufacturers have agreed to an amicable phasing out of bats. There are different time-frames fixed for phasing out, so that manufacturers do not lose financially. From a certain period, the bats cannot be used, from a certain period of time, the bats cannot be sold. Amateur cricketers can use the bats till the natural life period. However, after September, it cannot be used in international cricket.

I don’t understand this phasing out strategy. If a titanium-enhanced bat is not within the laws, it needs to go out with immediate effect, and in all forms of the game. Why does the financial aspect have to come into it? It’s like banning drugs and then giving junkies a month to smoke up their stock. Or two months, in the villages.

The future cricket 2 (More new balls)

Originally, the game of cricket was conceived as a battle between the bat and the ball. Insufficient protection for batsmen and for pitches in the early days made it more in favour of the bowlers. So the administrators took over, bringing in covered pitches, the bouncer limitation, the leg side fielding restrictions, the front-foot no-ball rule and many more. Protective equipment for every conceivable part of the body (and elsewhere) made batsmen even more intrepid.

Today, the hand that holds the bat holds all the aces. Michael Holding’s plaintive cries echo that, Javagal Srinath’s baleful expressions confirmed that, Jason Gillespie’s test double hundred drove the point home, Daniel Vettori’s progress as an all-rounder tells its own story and every run that Monty Panesar makes is another nail in the bowler’s coffin.

It’s time to tilt the balance, a bit to begin with. A regulation that is very overtly bowler-centric is an urgent need of the hour, Twenty20 or no Twenty20, ICL or IPL, sponsors or boards. Here’s something that helps the fast bowlers. How about halving the time to the new ball in test matches? So the fielding team can opt for a new ball after 40 overs instead of the current 80?

The likes of Brett Lee and Dale Steyn would surely relish the prospect of coming back for a second spell midway through the second session of the first day to take a tilt at the middle order. Of course, if there is an expectation of reverse swing in the afternoon, the fielding team can delay taking the second new ball. And if a certain Muthiah Muralitharan is in your team, you’d probably pass that red cherry for a few more sessions.

Consider the effect on the batsmen. A Sourav Ganguly will have to face up to the new ball in test matches, something he normally does not prefer. A Jacques Kallis will settle down to the spinners and the seamers (and plot yet another anonymous hundred) and then will suddenly come up against the quicker ones in the midst of a somnolent (for himself, for the fielding team, for the spectators) afternoon session. Ah!

Here’s a more complex alternative. The second new ball becomes available after 60 overs, the third one after a further 40 and subsequent ones after every 30 overs. Sounds complicated? Well, we have power plays of different durations in one-day games, don’t we?

Part 1 – 50Fifty

The future cricket 1 (50Fifty)

From timeless tests to five-day tests. From 4-ball overs to 8-ball overs to 6-ball overs. From test cricket to one-day cricket to Twenty20. For a gentleman’s game, cricket has seen quite a bit of change over its 131 year international existence. So what transmogrifications can we expect in the future? Some idle speculation here, over the next few posts.

50Fifty

This is possibly the most logical extension one can imagine. The five-day test match version was producing too many dull draws. To artificially generate a positive result in the game, the one-day game was introduced. Then when the middle overs of one-dayers started getting boring, the game’s administrators just knocked them off and pop came Twenty20. What can Twenty20 lead to?

Well, quite a few celebrities from the business world and from tinsel town are involved in the Twenty20 game, thanks to the IPL and the ICL. What is the key characteristic of celebrities? Coming late for an event, of course. And the game cannot start without the celebrities making their grand appearances and their world-changing inaugural speeches, can it? Now that leaves us with even less time on our hands. So what do we do?

Introducing (drum roll and cheerleaders waving whatever they wave) 50Fifty, where each team gets to face 50 deliveries. Fifty is not divisible by six, you say? Come on, let’s not let such trivialities come in our way, shall we. Let’s just eliminate the concept of the over as a unit. Each team has to bowl 25 balls from one end of the wicket and 25 balls from the other end, that's it. The order is irrelevant, the number of balls at one stretch does not matter; but ends change when bowlers change. And each bowler can bowl a maximum of 15 deliveries in a game. Sounds crazy? Well, did you think of Twenty20 twenty years ago?

It’s an ill wind . . .

It wasn’t quite easy watching the proceedings at the ‘Gabba, and it was really a relief that the weather interfered rather more decisively than it tends to in England. It was a pointless game in a pointless one-day series. (It is a relief to remember that this is to be the last tri-series tournament in the annual Australian cricket calendar, at least until the BCCI realises how to make money off it). No, I’m not saying this because I’m an Indian and the Indians didn’t quite cover themselves with glory with their batting performance. Yes, I did watch Brett Lee bowl give yet another great exhibition of fast bowling. No, it’s not because the game ended resultless. But… you know what I mean.

Yet, and trust a die-hard cricket follower (especially on an otherwise eventless Sunday) to find something to talk about even in a game like this…

It was the third over of the Australian innings. Irfan Pathan was bowling to James Hopes. He starts with a dot ball; then bowls a real wide down the leg side, follows up with another good dot ball; and then disappears to the fence for the next three. Then he comes up to bowl the last ball of the over. It was another delivery on the leg stump, and brushed past the batsman’s pads. Hopes attempted to tickle it to fine-leg but missed. The umpire spread his arms wide. Groan. Pathan had to bowl that one again.

But the batsman’s reaction was instructive. Hopes was practising the shot again and berating himself for missing out on what could have been a certain boundary. If the ball was that close to being hit for a boundary, is it fair that it be declared a wide just because the batsman missed it?

I know it’s a tight call with these leg stump wides, but may be they should be treated like lbws? That is, the umpires have to decide whether the ball was really un-hittable rather than just going by the mechanical definition of a ball just going down the leg side? I know the current trend is to take away as much decision-making as possible from the on-field umpires but surely there are some things they can decide on? And only they can decide on?

The 15 overs that cost Australia No. 17?

Many theories will be offered for Australia stumbling on No. 17 again, this time at the WACA. Yes, the Indians, particularly the bowlers played out of their skin (Why does the press always use this phrase when India wins against serious opposition abroad?); yes, Hayden’s absence affected Australia (Would he have made up for the margin of 72 runs and the 19 runs that Chris Rogers managed between the two innings?); yes, Shaun Tait proved to be as effective as Rawl Lewis; yes, there are many more reasons like these. A certain passage of play could have played a key part as well.

Roll your memory back to overs 46 to 61 of the Indian second innings. India finished the 45^th over at 182 for 6. For the next 15 overs, Andrew Symonds and Michael Clarke rolled their arms over, one bowling hopeful seam-up, the other, hopeless donkey drops. And by the time Brett Lee returned for over 62, India had moved on to 234 for 6, which, added to the healthy first innings lead of 118, took India’s overall lead to 352. (As if on cue, Lee softened the Indians and Symonds took two wickets in his next over.)

Were those 15 overs crucial? MS Dhoni, who was having quite a wretched time with the bat in the series, was allowed to settle down; he ended up with a useful 38, and added 75 priceless runs with VVS Laxman. The period also allowed Laxman to contribute, helping him to shepherd the tail around to add a further 56 runs after the Symonds double-strike. Considering the final margin was 72 runs, you can work out the mathematics and the probabilities.

Ricky Ponting’s reason for the Clarke-Symonds duet is perhaps that Australia were lagging behind on the over-rate, and risked incurring the wrath of the match referee even to the extent of a match ban for the skipper. (Eventually, they were only two overs short, and so escaped with just a monetary fine, 20 per cent for the skip and 10 per cent for the rest of the team.)

The imperative of having to bowl 90 overs in 390 minutes (6 hours of normal play plus the half-hour extension) proved to be a bit beyond Australia, more so because of their four-pronged pace attack.

Should this little aside force a re-think on the minimum overs requirement? Is 4 minutes too tight for an over of fast bowling? Is it fair that the requirement be decided based on a certain notional number of overs of slow bowling in an innings? Are teams constrained to choose their line-up based on this requirement rather than the nature of the pitch and the opposition?

In test match cricket, with its five day spread and its acceptance of a draw as an acceptable result (at least officially, if not for the spectators), is this kind of time constraint required at all? Remember the West Indies teams of the 1980s. Do you imagine Marshall, Holding, Roberts, Garner, et al squeezing in anything approaching 90 overs in a day’s play? On the contrary, did they not produce results in test matches?

Of course, there is the other side of this argument as well, where teams delay things to prevent the opposition fro winning. Dilip Doshi, under instructions from Sunil Gavaskar, taking ten minutes (or was it twelve minutes?) to complete an over of slow left-arm comes to mind. So does Desmond Haynes’ (in one of those rare games he captained the West Indies) delaying tactics in the test match against England at Port of Spain in the 1989-90 season.

So yes, we do need some kind of control over time. But whether 90 overs is too harsh is the question. Inasmuch as you don’t want a team to lose because of poor umpiring, you don’t want them to struggle because of regulations that have perhaps been overtaken by reality and pragmatism.