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.

The future cricket 5 (More to toss)

Eight long years ago, a good professor called Warren Edwardes suggested that the toss, the traditional ritual that constitutes the first action in a cricket game, be replaced by the Bid. His suggestion seems to have been considered worthy enough to be picked up by the Financial Times (caution: opens a pdf file). Considering no move has been made in this direction so far, it is safe to assume that the ICC did not deem it worthy to interfere with tradition in this one regard. (Considering the financial and marketing implications that the concept of “the Bid” suggests, certain quarters that run certain forms of the game may be interested in it, but hush, let’s leave cricket to people who understand the on-field game, shall we?)

It’s surprising when you think about it, but many of the traditional rituals of the game haven’t really changed, notwithstanding what else has happened to the game in the last few decades. As Gideon Haigh writes in this Cricinfo piece, the taking of the guard is still as unquestioned and unthinkingly automatic an activity with batsmen as it was from the days of the primo professional allrounder of the early 19^th century, William Lambert. (A relatively recent augmentation to this charade is the slightly pretentious and dare I say, sanctimonious, act of taking guard again after reaching a landmark like a hundred or a triple-hundred.) Similarly, that oh-so-quaint British tradition of a tea break still persists in test matches, and lunch continues to be taken after the first two hours of play in the day, even though the clock barely tips over to half-past-eleven in the sub-continent. Test cricket is still played in whites, notwithstanding the fact that players are used as sandwich men in some forms of the game, especially the IxL (replace x with either alphabet, depending on who you support).

Back to the toss. It is a chance beginning to the ritual called the match, and of late, players (do I remember Steve Waugh protesting against it as well?) have questioned the need for it and have suggested that it be done away with. But as rituals go, do you really want it to go? Instead, what if we use it as a kind of a marker-laying for captains to play their hands?

Traditionally, the toss-winning captain decides on two things – who would bat first and, if he decides to bat first, what roller should be used on the pitch. What if we increase the ambit of decisions that can be made immediately after the toss? Like choosing which overs to use as powerplays in a limited overs game? Now that makes it less of an unmixed blessing, doesn’t it? Or choosing what roller to use on each day of the test? And just to take away the luck factor to an extent, how about defining a set of decisions that will be taken alternately between the toss-winning captain and the opposing captain? And the toss winner just gets to make the first move.

Of course, the easiest option is to just eliminate the toss, but then how do you get the game started? Surely not cede home advantage or away advantage or any of those suggestions that were mooted in the past? As for the bid, I suggest we leave that to the people who manage the game outside the ground. I fear it is already happening.

Tailpiece: There is one unquestionable (at least by those who understand the game) abomination that needs to be tossed away when it comes to this ritual: using the toss to determine the winner of a game, a rule that applies in the Twenty20 format when the scores are level at the end. You know the cliché I am thinking of here.

Earlier posts in this series

50Fifty

More new balls

Limited over tests

Half-and-half

What next?

I wonder why no one thought of it before: using the trouser as more than just a piece of cloth to protect one’s modesty. The kiwis have hit on it, high-tech bowlers' trousers, specially designed to put shine on the ball, and Dipak Patel springs the second surprise of his life. (The first, lest you start thinking the 1992 World Cup, is having managed to have played at the apex level in the first place.)

The more interesting mention, as published in this cricinfo story is the introduction of the IonX BaseLayer performance underwear which is claimed to improve performance by 2.7%. The performance of the balls, I suppose.

From a cricketing perspective, the more sobering sound byte in the story comes from Patel himself.

"When I came into cricket I was surprised to find there are no regulations about what materials you can and can't use."

The game seems to be setting itself for controversy, considering the number of gaps it offers for misinterpretation. Not so long ago, there was an MCC debate and decision on the use of graphite in cricket bats. And quite some time back, a certain famous personage tried an aluminium bat, didn’t he?

So what is the next performance-enhancing accessory likely to be? A Velcro surface on wicket-keeping gloves perhaps? (Did I hear Kamran Akmal nod enthusiastically?)

Corrigendum published 06-June-08: The Patel responsible for this performance gear innovation is Dipal Patel and not Dipak Patel. Apologies for the mistake.

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 business of cricket

Much has been said about the commercialisation of the game, about how there is too much cricket because sponsors and boards decree so, about how they are possibly killing the goose that lays the golden eggs. Without ignoring the grains of truth inherent in all of these moans, what we don’t seem to have is a solution. “Ease up the calendar,” is easy to say, but when there are thousands of pounds (or whichever currency you deal with) to be made with every meaningless (meaningless in what sense?) bi-lateral one-day series, why would administrators desist? It’s a bit like asking a business house to control their sales for fear of a glut in the market. On the other hand, we probably don’t want to Wal-mart’ise the game either. So what do we do?

I suggest we begin with the humble calendar. Let each cricketing nation declare a formal and immutable calendar for the home season. England and Australia already have it, though they have started to stretch into the adjacent off-season weeks of late. Depending on the weather and the probable playing conditions, each team gets a pre-defined three-month window in a year to play the game at home. And with each team playing a full home season and one or two away series, we have steady cricket for each country for about six months in the year. Of the other six months, they play in the IPL or wherever for about three months (call it their incentive time if you will). And they have to compulsorily rest for three months. In the years of the World Cup (any of the three as they exist today), the host nation(s) gives up part or all of its season for the Cup.

So what’s the big deal, you may well ask. This is nothing more than a detailed way of saying, “ease up the calendar.” Yes, this only satisfies the players, in terms of the rigour of the international circuit; it does not cater to the profit motives of the administrators. How do we address that?

Shorn of all self-righteousness and pretence, what do the administrators want out of the game? They want to make the most out of the game, right? Is more cricket the only option? Is the money only on the field and in the corresponding television coverage? May be administrators can bring in business consultants and innovation gurus to analyse how else they can make money from the game? How else can we get a larger share of the spectator’s wallet apart from more and more cricket? How can we increase revenue at the gates and the venues? How can we bring in money on non-playing days? How can we create newer revenue streams and recurring income from the game’s interested followers? I’m sure a tight, focused business brief will generate the right answers. I have some ideas in this regard, but I’ll save them for my own entrepreneurial venture.

It’s time for cricket to apply the theory of constraints. Freeze on the schedule and then focus on generating ideas on how to get more revenue out of the game. Don’t treat the game as being in a single industry; instead, look at it as a conglomerate. If cricket had many profit centres like corporate houses like GE, Tata and Samsung has companies and divisions, would the way the game managed be different and better? I think so.

Umpires as leaders

There’ seems to be more to him than just divine off-side play, abrasive combativeness and inspired captaincy. Sourav Ganguly looks set for a post-playing career in cricket administration or commentary, if this statement is an indicator of how his mind works.

As a cricketer, I feel that if the field umpires get a bit of help in the matter of the front foot no ball from the technology as they have in tennis, that they can concentrate and look only towards the batsman and that can reduce mistakes, because things happen fast in the cricket field.

It’s a comment that forces you to re-look at the role of on-field umpires in today’s technology era. The law book says that the job of the umpires is to control the game as required by the Laws, with absolute impartiality.

So how can we let the on-field umpires control the game? By only retaining the control aspects of on-field play with them. And removing the mechanical aspects of the job. Like announcing lunch and tea intervals. Like signalling mechanical landmarks like over completion. Like swinging or raising their hands for boundaries and sixes. Like giving batsmen out for being patently outside the crease in cases of run outs and stumpings. And like signalling front-foot no-balls. Simply put, remove from the on-field umpires job sheet anything that can be determined with absolute certainty by technology (and the third umpire).

So what will the on-field umpires do, you ask?

Well, for one, everything that technology (hawkeye, snicko, ultra-mo, etc.) speculates on. Like lbw decisions. Like feathers to the wicket-keeper. Like bat-pad decisions. But you may wonder, aren’t these really what the on-field umpires err on for the most part? Precisely, and that’s why they need to concentrate on them. These are decisions and judgment calls that a qualified and experienced human needs to take, and the on-field umpires need to concentrate on these to the exclusion of all else if they were to get more decisions accurate.

Secondly, all the control aspects of the game will be the responsibility of the on-field umpires. Like discouraging time-wasting tactics from either team. Like keeping sledging within limits of decency (it’s a different matter that sledging should perhaps be totally un-banned, but that’s meat for another meal). Like deciding on how much light is enough to continue playing. Like calling off a test match that is meandering meaninglessly. Like, well, being in control of the game.

Think of the on-field umpire as a leader rather than a manager. Who takes decisions on uncertainty and leaves the mechanical / process aspects to the minions. Or to technology.

Morgan’s Mantras

We are in for some interesting times with the International Cricket Council’s president-elect Mr Dave Morgan if this interview of his with Alex Brown of the Sydney Morning Herald is any indication.

First up is his philosophical reflection on incorrect perceptions.

All incorrect perceptions are of concern, just as it’s a concern that the ICC was blamed for every aspect of what was wrong with the last ICC World Cup in the West Indies. That, again, was an incorrect perception.

Yes, The ICC conducted the ICC World Cup, they ensured that it was called the ICC World Cup, but they are not responsible for what went wrong there. The next time you buy a Gray Nicolls bat and it turns out to be a useless piece of wood, don’t blame Gray Nicolls – they’re not responsible for it you see.

Then comes his sage comment on the ouster of Steve Slow Death Bucknor from the Perth test between Australia and India.

The first thing I need to say is that the decision to replace Mr Bucknor with Mr Bowden was not the result of any protest from one of the participating teams. There was a protest, but the decision was not a result of that process.

Absolutely, Mr. Morgan, no pressure at all. Umpires are routinely evaluated after every match and replaced if they make incorrect decisions. And protest? What protest?

And the way he expressed his views on Zimbabwe’s possible return to test cricket is the very epitome of clarity.

I must re-emphasise that they [Zimbabwe] withdrew voluntarily, and they will be coming back to ICC to say when they feel they’re ready to resume Test match cricket. The cricket committee of the ICC may well have a view to express.

Yes, we are in for some interesting times with the ICC.

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.

Corporate governance in cricket

The dust, it appears, will not settle on l’affaire SCG, not for the next few weeks at least, unless a decision is made on what Harbhajan Singh actually said, and what it means in different languages, societies and cultures, and to different arbiters, media personnel, bloggers and sundry other parties.

In the meantime, cricket continues in other parts of the world. After the aberration of the first test loss, South Africa pummelled West Indies in the next two to take the series. West Indian supporters would argue that a 2–1 score line is an upset result, and I for one would tend to accept that, especially considering my pre-series post.

A noticeable moment came up on the third (and what proved to be the final) day of the third test. After making a fluid if slightly chancy century, Marlon Samuels (who finally looks like shaking off the tag of a “nearly man”) was bowled by Dale Steyn. The delivery was an absolute beauty, pitching on off stump and straightening to beat the bat of a settled batsman. The stumps were rattled and the bowler, cock-a-hoop. But what followed is what I am referring to. Samuels, after the initial disappointment, actually looked towards the bowler and acknowledged the quality of the delivery with a nod of the head and a lift of the thumb.

Is this what critics of Australia and the SCG incidents talk of when they refer to “the spirit of the game”? Is this what they expect to see more of in the game? Is it a realistic expectation?

Would Samuels have done what he did if it was the last day of the test and the West Indies had a realistic chance of saving the game? Would Samuels have done it if two of his colleagues had perished earlier to debatable umpiring decisions? Would Samuels have done that if the South Africans had sledged his team mates through the game, and made a few visibly insane appeals?

I think the “spirit of the game” argument is an argument of the past. A past when cricket was a game, when winning was just one of the four possible results, when winning just led to honour and perhaps a ticker tape welcome back home. The present of cricket, and what seems to be its future, is far more straightforward: cricket is as much a business as any other. And success, defined as winning the game, comes above all else. In the process, if some teams approach the game like Enron approached business, so be it. It was for the arbiters to determine whether what Enron did constituted fair practice and act accordingly. And they did, and how.

Is Australia the Enron of cricket? Do the governing bodies have a sufficiently strong and comprehensive “corporate governance” code for cricket that can be enforced consistently and aggressively? Are the punishments for infringements as strict as they are in the corporate world? In the face of such unsolved questions, Indians can whine, the Aussies can preen and the rest of the world can tear its hair in frustration; the game will continue on its merry circus.

The sad truth is that Sydney now, the Oval in 2006 and sundry other matches before these have raised such seemingly unsolvable issues time and time again. Unfortunately, the administrators have been happy just treating the symptoms of the disease and pretending as if all is well. Some day, some one will have to go deep down and cure the disease at its underlying level. Until such time, we can only wait in trepidation for the next Sydney.

Four stumps for a free hit

Should we call this cricket 2.0? Getting players involved in running the game? Well, that’s what the Australian Cricketers’ Association seems to be trying, by asking cricketers what can be done to improve the game. Well, the concept is interesting. Some of the findings (the focus was on Twenty20) are even more so. Of course, they seem to fly in the face of logic and certainly contravene tradition (as all change tend to), but out of such fantasy comes progress.

First up is the suggestion to have four stumps. Aesthetic and terminological (Which one is the middle stump? Which the off and leg?) challenges apart, anything that is even loosely pro-bowler appeals to me tremendously. (An easier solution could be to just increase the size of the stumps to give bowlers a better target to aim at.) For the same reason, giving a bowler an extra over if s/he takes a wicket is a thought. And abolishing leg byes is a most sensible idea Steve Waugh had mooted long ago – a leg bye is neither a function of the batsman’s skill (like a run off the bat is, for the most part) nor a failure on the part of the fielding side (as in the case of a bye or a no-ball or wide).

Giving a batsman a free hit off the first ball s/he faces is a curious suggestion. Who came up with the idea? What were they thinking? And what was the question that led to this?

A couple of minor suggestions came up as well. Like players wearing shorts in matches. Well, honestly, I’ m not too sure I agree with that. Especially with all the protective equipment players wear, they may look a wee bit odd with just a bit of skin peering between those pads, thigh pads, etc. And whether players have names or nicknames on the back of their shirts is unlikely to affect their performance or their marketability, so it’s one of those questions that can be ignored.

The use of microphones has registered a high degree of acceptance. I see a lot of opposition to this, especially from coaches. Will talking to the media distract a captain or a fielder? And will it capture sledging a little more clearly? As a viewer, I’d rather not hear what goes on, and stick to just watching the game.

Why do the counties exist?

Charlie Randall writes about Bob Willis expressing his disapproval over the English county system in the October edition of Wisden Cricketer. I haven’t laid my hands on the magazine yet, so am going by what Charlie has reported.

Willis believes that county cricket is no place for ex-international players like Graeme Hick, Mark Ramprakash and Dominic Cork; so-called English players like Nic Pothas and Stuart Law; and the crowd of Kolpaks and overseas players.

Willis argues that these players clog up county cricket and this acts against the interest of the national side. Which may perhaps be true, but then the question begs: What is the role of the counties in English cricket?

Are they supposed to be feeders to the national team? Are they like local government departments, set up with the objective of fulfilling the national vision of building a consistently successful national team? In that case, are the counties non-profit organizations supported in funding and organization by the ECB? If so, they can perhaps be told to operate with allocated team members, transferable through a centralised decision-making.

Or are the counties expected to exist on their own? Like private enterprises, with an eye on profit and maximising available resources? With contribution to the national cause akin to a corporate planting trees and building traffic islands at busy intersections?

I do not claim an inside knowledge of the English county system, but I reckon that the latter of the two cases above is closer to the truth. And in such a case, as the man running a county, I would be well within my rights to choose whoever I can to maximise the returns to my county, wouldn’t I?

Sure, developing a national player would increase the fortunes of my county. But at what cost and risk? If I can get a not-so-expensive fading star and the odd Kolpak or overseas player at a throwaway price and produce the results, why shouldn’t I? If the argument is that my team is not performing, then it’s a different matter. But, and apologies for sounding brutal here, why should I care about the English national team? If Ottis Gibson delivers for me (and how he has for Durham this year!), how does it matter to me that he will never turn out in English national colours? If Graeme Hick still draws the crowds at Grace Road, why would I not take him on instead of betting on a newcomer of unproven stock? And if Adil Rashid looks shaky to me (and he does, in the odd game I’ve seen him in Yorkshire colours), why would I be constrained to hold on to him when I can get a good spinner from Asia at a much lower cost?

I have deliberately taken an extreme position, but so has Bob Willis. If he is arguing for a governmental organization, I am arguing for a free market private sector. And county cricket seems to be a bit of both – which is perhaps the nub of the problem.

The Cowdrey Lecture 2007

It gave me great pleasure to note that a cricket commentator was invited to deliver the Cowdrey lecture by the MCC this year. Chris Martin Jenkins takes pride of place as the first non-cricketer to deliver the lecture in its seven year lifetime so far. In retrospect, it is quite surprising that this is a first. But that is not the focus of this piece.

The full script of the lecture is available on the Lord’s website, but let me pick up a few excerpts to comment on.

When a batsman is bowled; he walks; when a batsman hits the ball in the air to mid-off and is caught; he walks. When a batsman snicks Monty Panesar to slip via the wicket-keeper’s glove and is caught by slip; he walks. But when a batsman snicks it into the keeper’s gloves only – and not into a fielder’s hands – he doesn’t walk – in the hope that the umpire might not be certain. Again, when he snicks it off the inside edge via his pad to short leg and is caught, generally speaking these days, he doesn’t walk either, for the same reason. Where is the logic, or the honour in that?

The argument is a bit like Swiss cheese, I’m afraid.

A batsman walks when he is bowled because he knows the ball has hit the stumps and the bails have been dislodged, and the spectacle is visible to every one. A batsman walks when he hits the ball in the air to mid-off because he knows he has hit the ball in the air, and the evidence is there for all to see. A batsman walks when he snicks Monty Panesar to slip because he knows he has snicked it, and the world knows it too. (Though I’m not sure every one will walk if the snick went off the wicket-keeper’s gloves, but that’s not quite the point.)

However, when a batsman snicks to the keeper or inside edges to short leg, he does not walk. The reasons are one of two – he does not know whether he has actually snicked it, or he is not sure whether the rest of the world, especially the umpire, has caught him snicking it. The first is a question of logic, and the second, that of honour, if you will. We can appeal to the honour of the batsman perhaps, but if, “at the professional level players’ livelihoods are at stake”, honour is more often than not likely to come a poor second. It’s perhaps the harsh reality of professional sport, but reality it is.

Now let me turn the argument around. How many times do fielding teams appeal for leg before decisions on inside edges and on obvious down-the-leg deliveries, and on bat-pad decisions where the bat and the pad were a cricket ground apart? How do we appeal to their collective honour? If the umpires need help from the players, they do so from both sides, don’t they?

And even if we want to implement Jenkins’ suggestion, how do we do it? Fines for dishonour? Penalty runs or wickets? Warnings and bans?

On to a different point. To begin with, Jenkins argues that the overrate in test cricket has to be improved: “90 in a six-hour day HAS to become a minimum for a game.” Stepping up the pace, he advocates that we should stretch it to 100 overs a day and make test matches four day affairs.

The beauty of test match cricket is its slowness, in a relative sense. You have one-day cricket if you are in a hurry; and Twenty20 if you're just passing by. Speeding up a test match means you lose on the nuances. The spinner adjusting his field minutely; the batsman doing a bit of gardening to let his mind forget the dropped chance off the previous ball; the fast bowler walking ponderously back to the top of his mark – these are the non-active images that fuel the test match.

There are more such interesting and provocative suggestions and arguments in the lecture, none more than the reference to a bidding system suggested by David Harris, a coach from Herefordshire, to replace the toss. I’ll let you access the original lecture to read it.

And Jenkins ends with the ominous prediction that every one has been cavilling about:

“They are as sick that surfeit with too much, as they that starve with nothing” (The Merchant of Venice)

How to resurrect English cricket, vol. ∞

An evidence based approach to the identification and development of England Test cricketers in the County Championship. (including the full stop at the end) is the simple, unprepossessing title of a paper written by Neil Davidson, Chairman, Leicestershire County Cricket Club and released by the club recently. The 69-page paper is available on the county’s web site – click here to access it. (Caution: opens a pdf file.)

Based on an analysis of England test cricketers from June 1996 to December 2006 and of the 2006 County championship season, the author comes out with a “unique development system which will deliver a high quality Test team over a sustained period.”

The development system set out in the paper comprises seven recommendations.

1. The creation of branded ‘Academy Showcase’ cricket to funnel under 17 talented young England qualified cricketers into the First Class system.
2. ‘Senior Academy Showcase’ cricket to bridge the gap into First Class cricket, replacing the current 2^nd XI Championship.
3. A combination of regulation and incentive to ensure that young England qualified cricketers get proper opportunity, across 18 counties, consistent with Phases 1-3 identified previously.
4. A mature and informed debate about the role of unqualified players as part of such a unique development system to create the best standard of First Class cricket in the world.
5. A salary cap to deliver a level financial playing field.
6. Clear communication to all stakeholders by the ECB PR machine.
7. A phased approach.

A couple of reviews have started coming in and more are likely to follow. Better worthies than this blogger will no doubt pore over the report, identify the good points (there ought to be some), slam the bad ones (there might a contest on who finds the most here) and pass overall judgement on the paper. The inevitable comparisons with the Schofield report (and innumerable others of its ilk) are bound to crop up too.

But there is one sentence hidden rather unobtrusively in the report that made one wonder.

Premiership football is now ‘big business’, thankfully cricket has not reached that stage and hopefully it never will.

Cricket is not big business? Ask any Asian cricket administrator. Even in England, isn’t Twenty20 an effort to make cricket big business? Even assuming cricket is not big business yet, why be hopeful that it never will? Is being big business necessarily bad? After all, cricket moved from being amateur to professional long long ago. Therefore, a professional cricketer is as much a businessman as a financial consultant or any other professional. And which businessman would not want to become a big businessman?

Associated with this is the fifth recommendation above: A salary cap to deliver a level financial playing field. What were you thinking, Mr. Davidson? That cricket become a government department, with fixed salaries and pensions?

Courting different pitches

The French Open concluded yesterday with yet another victory for Rafael Nadal on clay. The opponent may have been the top-seeded Roger Federer, but Nadal has been well-nigh unbeatable on clay – this was his third successive win at Roland Garros, and his zillionth victory on the surface over the last three years. However, Federer has been close to unbeatable on all other surfaces. And if you look back at men’s tennis over the last few decades, take away Andre Agassi and no one person has won all the Grand Slams in his career – not the incomparable Bjorn Borg, not the feisty John McEnroe, not the phlegmatic Ivan Lendl, not the seemingly invincible Pete Sampras. No, this is not a post about tennis champions.

Tennis is the only game that seems to be played formally on different surfaces. And while true champions tend to play well on all of them, you do have four formal Grand Slam championships every year, played on distinctly different surfaces. It certainly adds to the beauty of the game. Watching a Lendl play those marathon games with Mats Wilander on the red clay of Paris was very different from watching the same Lendl struggle against Boris Becker on the sylvan lawns of Wimbledon. No, this is not a post about tennis champions.

Inasmuch as tennis has clay, grass and synthetic surfaces, cricket has the bouncy wickets of Australia, the swinging conditions of England and the dustbowls and shirtfronts of the Asian sub-continent. I sometimes wonder at the hue and cry about the differences across pitches – especially the “expert” view of the need to prepare bouncy wickets in the sub-continent. Why is there no demand to prepare absolute shirtfronts in Australia? Or spinning dustbowls in England? Why should the Asian pitches alone have to change? Is the trampoline of Perth better for cricket than the dustbowl of Barabati?

So why can’t we leave pitches the way they are? And introduce the concept of playing on different surfaces in the formal sense in cricket? The administrators want to promote the game aggressively. Wouldn’t a pitch-defined definition work better for drawing up schedules than organizing random series at arbitrary times of the year in unsuitable locations? (Of course, this might tempt the ICC to have a World Cup every year, on different pitches!)

It will also preserve the sanctity of the pitch and weather conditions in different nations. For a real cricket fan, I would imagine there is a charm in watching different contests on different conditions. It also preserves an unpredictability that is supposedly inherent to the game.

An approach like this could also lead to different possibilities in terms of team selection. Just as there are clay court specialists and grass court specialists in tennis, cricketers may also prove themselves to be adept on some kinds of surfaces more than on others. Thus leading to interesting team selections and opportunities for different kinds of players. Just as teams increasingly have test specialists and limited-overs specialists (and Twenty20 specialists soon), they may also have pitch specialists. There are odd occasions when teams (especially England) have followed the horses-for-courses approach to team selection, but if we have a formal set of “Shirt Front Series” and “Dust Bowl Tournaments”, we might just have formal specialists for each of these.

And the real world champion emerges out of a composite calculation of performances across all surfaces, not just performance in one World Cup. (Though for now, Australia win every which way, England can at least hope to be the Swing Champions some day. And India, the Dukes of the Dust Bowl.)

More batsman-friendly recommendations

The new-look ICC Cricket Committee has just concluded its first meeting in Dubai and has come up with a list of recommendations for consideration by the Chief Executives Committee.

A couple of recommendations are intriguing.

That the idea of the captain of the batting side being able to choose when to take one of the power-plays be trialed in Australia and any other Member that wishes to do so

So the batting team literally decides the fielding placement during this phase, eh? Isn’t the game sufficiently batting-friendly? What next? Batsmen deciding that a certain lot of overs should be bowled only by the slow bowlers? Or a speed limit for bowlers?

On the other hand, how about some bowler-friendly measures, for a change? Why not let the fielding team decide who the next batsman should be? Or mandate that each team should have a mix of right-handers and left-handers? Or define that for a lot of five overs, batsman cannot score on the off-side? Or offside runs count only for half for that period?

A free hit should be introduced for the delivery that follows a front-foot no-ball

I know this is operational in domestic cricket in England and in the Twenty20 game, but why would you penalize a bowler for a past transgression? Will the same bowler get a free bowl if he has taken a wicket with his previous delivery? Or if a batsman runs on the pitch?

It’s surprising that recommendations like this have come up from such a distinguished group of experts, including bowlers like Michael Holding, Ian Bishop and Tim May, and all-rounders like Tom Moody and Craig Wright.

Running the game

The MCC World Cricket Committee’s meeting on May 14, 2007 seems to have touched on some of cricket’s most common themes of recent years.

International schedules and how hectic they are came up invariably for discussion. While the committee sounds noble when it “recommends a review of the international playing calendar, with the aim of striking a balance between financial gain, player welfare and audience satisfaction”, it is easier said than done. Balancing the needs of stakeholders something corporate organisations strive for all the time. May be we need to find avenues through which boards can make money on non-play days? May be the sponsorship models need to be reexamined? May be the definition of seasons should be more strictly adhered to and optimised? Basketball in the U.S. and football in Europe operate with hectic schedules in their seasons as well. Are there any lessons to be learnt from there?

The committee recommends “regular monitoring of bowling actions under match conditions.” This is a valid point because under test conditions, bowlers of dubious arm angles tend to be extra cautious with their actions. But there needs to be a clear process for and way of doing this, without disrupting the game. Can some technology akin to the hawk-eye be used to enable this?

The committee has also commented on a few other things – shortening of boundaries, gluing of pitches and the length of the World Cup. Nothing original in any of these recommendations either.

But to me, the key is really the composition of the Committee itself. It comprises 14 members, led by Chairman Tony Lewis. It is an interesting mix of players from most of the test cricket playing nations (except New Zealand, Sri Lanka and Bangladesh) and one umpire – David Shepherd. Another aspect of the committee’s composition is that there are only two bowlers – Courtney Walsh and Tony Dodemaide. Considering the kind of issues that have come up, the committee perhaps needs a rethink its composition.

Running the game is not just about managing the on-field action – it is akin to running a corporate organization. So they may do well to consider people from different specialisations as part of the management, like the board of a company. Here’s my mix.

1. Former and current cricketers – one batsman, one fast bowler, one spinner and the odd wicketkeeper (at least two of them should have captained their national side for a considerable duration).
2. An umpire
3. A match referee
4. A groundsman
5. A coach
6. A sports doctor
7. A couple of senior corporate executives
8. A couple of computer technologists
9. A couple of administrators – one from European football and one from the NBA