The wrong un, p.26
The Wrong 'Un, page 26
That started a personal tradition: wherever I am in the world, I make arrangements with the chefs to prepare a daily bowl of custard to make me feel at home. Nanna’s vanilla custard, and Mum’s sponge cake and pavlova, are my absolute favourite foods. Custard is also an easy option that most chefs can handle.
At the Kolkata Knight Riders I played under the leadership of renowned Indian opening batsman Gautam Gambhir. I was surprised that Gambhir was interested in having me play alongside him, as we’d had some run-ins over the years. He was a player I really enjoyed sledging.
You really have to pick your target with sledging. Some you don’t bother with, because it actually makes them play better. I always knew there was no point sledging Shane Watson, because he enjoyed the confrontation. Jimmy Maher was another you didn’t talk to. That was particularly hard if you got on with him, as I did. One game I found it so difficult that I had to just turn my back to him while he was trying to get a conversation going.
The Kolkata Knight Riders’ coach, Trevor Bayliss, approached me to see whether I might be keen to join the franchise. ‘I can’t believe Gambhir suggested you,’ he told me.
Nor could I. Two years earlier, when I was playing for the Rajasthan Royals, he and I had been going at each other the whole game. I’d chipped away at him with silly stuff like, ‘What about your hairpiece? Hope it doesn’t fall off when you take the helmet off, buddy.’ He finally responded, telling me, ‘You’re too old for the game, too old.’ Later on, I was fielding on the fence, right in front of their team dugout, and he started saying things to me. I came back at him, thinking it was friendly banter. Then it got a bit more serious, and I started to get arky. Everyone in the dugout was killing themselves laughing. And now we were teammates.
Even though I enjoyed sledging, I never played well when it got personal. It was far better when it was just humorous and in the spirit of the game. Some of the best sledging came from the crowd. At an England–Australia limited-overs game in England in 2005, a spectator yelled out to me, ‘What did your great-grandfather do to become a convict?’
I came back, quick as a flash: ‘Stole your great-grandmother.’
The most unpredictable sledger I ever encountered would have to be Merv Hughes. Early on in my state career, he bowled three balls in a row straight at my ribs. If he puts another one there, I thought, I’m going for it. The fourth ball of the innings was just as short as the others, but about two yards quicker. I didn’t get halfway through my shot and the ball went straight up. I was out, caught and bowled, for a duck.
As I walked off the ground, Merv gave me a massive send-off, calling me everything under the sun and suggesting I should piss off back to grade cricket. Even when I was in the tunnel, heading for the WACA change rooms, he was still giving it to me with both barrels.
He retired from the game not long after, and became a national selector. I was playing in a West Indies–Australia A game in Tasmania, and I was in the dining room and saw him walking up the stairs. I knew the first guy he would see was me, and I was worried he’d give me another serve. Instead, he screamed, ‘Legend! How are you?’ and gave me a big kiss on the cheek. I was in a state of shock.
I didn’t see him for a while after that, until one day when I was in the Australian dressing room having a massage. He saw me, got the strapping tape and whacked it on one of my armpits. Then he disappeared, laughing his head off. He came in again later, got my other arm and did the same thing. Poor Lucy the masseuse had to spend the next hour and a half cutting the tape off. That’s a different approach from an Australian selector if ever you saw one.
You just have to love Merv. He’s a brilliant ambassador for the game, and certainly one of the most colourful Australian cricket characters. When I grow up, I want to be just like him.
19.
TWENTY20 – THE FUTURE
‘For me, what he has done in the last few years has been a joy to watch. It is as if he’s playing the game as a teenager, which is the perfect way.’
Simon Katich
Twenty20 cricket is regarded by some as ‘hit and giggle’. Something not to be taken too seriously. Instant gratification for an easily bored audience. Yet the punters love it, with tournaments all over the world sporting ‘House Full’ signs many nights a week.
In some ways I agree. T20 is instant entertainment, but it also shows off cricket’s most extravagant skills: big hitting, adventurous and imaginative strokeplay, creative bowling, precise fielding, innovative tactics and aerobic fitness. In just three hours you have a result, more often than not involving a frenzied, dramatic finish.
The purists may hate it, but the participants, including many who are ardent admirers of Test cricket, take it very seriously. We know that it requires a special set of skills.
I am a serious T20 convert. Apart from 15 Twenty20 caps for Australia, I’ve represented nine different domestic Twenty20 teams across seven countries: the Kolkata Knight Riders and the Rajasthan Royals in the Indian Premier League; the Antigua Hawksbills in the Caribbean Premier League, the Sylhet Royals in the Bangladesh Premier League, Wayamba United in the Sri Lanka Premier League, Warwickshire in England’s Twenty20 Cup, the Cape Cobras in South Africa’s Standard Bank Pro20 Series), Western Australia (the Warriors), and of course the Perth Scorchers in the Big Bash.
I also love Test cricket. I appreciate the importance of the first-class scene, in particular the Sheffield Shield, but I see Twenty20 as the perfect way to entice newcomers and especially families to our sport. And that ensures cricket will continue to flourish in the future.
I am concerned, however, that there are too many competitions worldwide, and not enough down time for players. More and more you see wear and tear causing injury in your players.
As for the 50-over game, which for many years was my prime cricket stage, it might soon be time to give that a rest. Twenty20 is the future of limited-overs cricket. In a standard one-dayer, usually about 90 of the match’s 100 overs are mind-numbingly boring. T20 has a lot more going for it.
And I don’t say that lightly. I’m someone who has played in hundreds of limited-overs games. I loved playing it, and found it so exciting when I started. I grew up with 50-over matches – I watched them on television, and I had my heroes. But then along came T20, and it’s simply a more captivating version of the game.
We have to move with the times. The public have shown that they love T20s, and so we must cater for that.
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I actually prepare more for T20s than I ever did for Test or one-day cricket. I’ve only got four overs to bowl – that’s just 24 balls. Every one of them has to count. Every delivery is vital. I can’t just go in there and roll my arm over, hoping for the best.
The bowler has to think like a Major League Baseball pitcher. Every ball is crucial – and part of a bigger plan. Wickets are important, but even more so is whether you are economical. You have to restrict the run flow. If you think you can just idle up and bowl a leggie, then a wrong ’un, then something else, you’re going to get hammered.
You have to constantly read the play, adapting to whatever is happening. You have to make snap decisions, and understand quickly how the batsman wants to attack you. In Test cricket, batsmen have plenty of time to get used to the conditions and play themselves in. Even in one-day cricket they have time to settle in. But in T20 there is absolutely no time for that. The pressure is on the batsman right from the start, and as a bowler you must try to take advantage of that.
In T20 cricket you always need a plan. You may play on wickets that turn a bit and some that give you nothing, so you have to be able to react straightaway. Like the batsman, you don’t have time to settle in with a few warm-up deliveries. You have to be adaptable from ball one.
My favourite pitch is still the WACA. I grew up on it, and so I’ve always liked pitches that have more bounce. A lot of batsmen have told me I’m harder to face when there is more bounce than when it is low and turning.
Most days when I’m at home in Perth, I head off to a cricket net in a nearby park to work on my deliveries. I focus on my run-up, my rhythm, my follow-through, my accuracy, my line and length – I try to make sure everything is right. Then I bowl ball after ball after ball, finishing only when I’m happy that everything is in good order.
I’m also fastidious about my diet. I avoid junk food and am careful with my alcohol intake, and most days I do a fitness workout. My adage is: ‘The older you get, the more you have to look after your body.’
In a T20 match I’m usually more concerned about cutting down the runs than with taking wickets. Dismissals will come if the batsmen aren’t rotating the strike, and for that I rely heavily on my teammates to keep the pressure up with their fielding.
I do plenty of homework about two days before a game – I study vision of opposing players, trying to see how they handle certain types of deliveries. I also study each batsman’s body language, seeing if he does something noticeable each time he plays a certain shot. Then I visualise bowling to him, and try to work out the best ways to dismiss him or curb his ability to score runs.
On game day I can invariably be found out in the middle, bowling balls near the centre wicket. Usually I put a hat down on the pitch to give me a target. These practice sessions end only when the organisers shoo me off the field so the game can start. Preparation, preparation, preparation.
When I’m in the field, I don’t start thinking about my actual bowling process until a couple of minutes before I take hold of the ball. I’ve got my plans – I know what I have to do – but I don’t get psyched up until a few balls before I come on, otherwise I get too worked up. If I overthink things, that’s when I start having trouble.
When you have the ball in your hand, you try to ignore the crowd noise, and you concentrate on the delivery you are about to bowl. The sensation of the leather in my hand as I take a deep breath at the top of my mark – that’s the moment I love. I feel as if I am on a knife-edge. There’s no time to think of what has happened, or what is about to happen. There is only that moment. It is an adrenaline rush.
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One thing that bothers me about T20 is the repeated allegations about match-fixing. In 2013 at the IPL, three of my Rajasthan Royals teammates – Sreesanth, Ajit Chandila and Ankeet Chavan – were arrested by Delhi police on charges of spot-fixing. We had to go to Hyderabad from Mumbai, and those three players weren’t on the bus. En route, we found out they had been arrested at the hotel. By the time we got to Hyderabad it was big news, and the rest of us were also put under the spotlight.
Some of the other players were so disillusioned that they were ready to go home. I said at the time I didn’t give two hoots about being investigated. I’d done nothing wrong. I have always played to the best of my abilities, and I wanted to keep playing. What those blokes had been charged with was one thing, but I couldn’t see why it should ruin it for the rest of us. I said we should just go out there and play – and that’s what we did.
Pravin Tambe had debuted earlier in the tournament, at age 41. He was a man who had never played first-class cricket before, and he was in tears, seeing his dreams disintegrate because his hard-earned success had been diminished by the scandal of our teammates. He, like the rest of us, was robbed of honour.
The episode was a stark reminder for all of us of the impact of gambling, and a lesson that match-fixing was far closer to us than we'd thought. Players are reminded all the time by anti-corruption authorities that match-fixing will not be tolerated, and to forget about getting a second chance. So we understand the consequences. But I can also understand that, for some who might be impoverished, it could be a temptation. You always have to be on the alert for it.
I remember the owner of one of the teams I played with was talking on his mobile phone in our change rooms, which is against the anti-corruption rules. I didn’t hear him saying anything untoward, but I was still furious, telling him I didn’t want my career to be affected by someone else’s stupidity, let alone by anything sinister.
Even though I’ve been involved in games that were subsequently alleged to have been suspect, I never noticed anything at the time. If a player was to give away his wicket deliberately to my bowling, I would never forgive him. The very idea of it undermines every dream I’ve ever had. I have spent my whole life training hard, coping with the ups and downs of a professional career and trying to be a good ambassador for the sport. How dare others ruin the competition by playing dead? In my view, any player who throws a game deserves what comes his way.
You also sometimes forget the far-reaching effects of gambling in the game. It’s frightening. Years ago, when I was playing in that Test series in the West Indies, one of our coaches, Jock Campbell, said to me during the Trinidad match that there were people out there betting on how many times I would poke my tongue out between deliveries. I couldn’t believe it. So in the first over after lunch, I just stood at my bowling mark and poked my tongue out, over and over. Then I thought, Why am I doing this? I could land myself in trouble.
Players are also alerted to watch ourselves in hotel foyers; apparently, that’s where suspicious bookies like to hover. Exactly how we’re supposed to identify them remains a mystery to me. In some countries fans make a hobby of meeting cricketers, and no lobby or cafe is sacred. We’re constantly being approached by people. The chance of being photographed with an ‘autograph seeker’ who later proves to be a bookie concerns me greatly, because the onus is all on the cricketer. A bookie would be a fool to even try me, but I can see how contact with a bookie could happen innocently. Corruption is a cloud hanging over the game.
No one has ever approached me, thankfully. Okay, one time I was asked by a fan to stop bowling rubbish and get it on a good length for a change, but that was probably fair enough.
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Another thing that irritates me is that there are numerous bowlers in international cricket who have bowled with illegal actions for years. I know some players have been caught and banned, but there are a number of bowlers who are pushing the boundaries of the rules, and some of them are on big money. There is no doubt in the world they are chucking. I’m not going to name them; they know who they are.
And anyway, I don’t want to have a go at any particular person. I will have a go at the ICC for letting them get away with it for so long. For me, a bent bowling arm of more than 15 degrees is just as big a crime as performance-enhancing drugs. The player is taking advantage of the inadequate policing system. I recently watched a match on TV, and then spent two hours freeze-framing the action of an offspinner, attempting in vain to use a protractor to determine the degree of bend in his elbow. Of course, I couldn’t get a precise reading, but to my eye it looked closer to 35 degrees than 15 degrees. It’s cheating, plain and simple. And players with legal actions are unable to break into the higher ranks due to the leniency given to illegal bowlers.
My solution would be to have an anonymous survey about all bowlers selected in first-class and international squads. They would be listed, and all players, umpires and commentators could tick ‘yes’ or ‘no’ if they believed a player had a suspect action. Those under suspicion would then undergo an ICC test to see whether they met the required standards.
You don’t need to have a dodgy action to succeed. Four of the best offspinners of recent times – Graeme Swann, Nathan Lyon, Ravichandran Ashwin and Ravindra Jadeja – have perfectly legitimate actions. They all have lethal arm balls that bamboozle batsmen. Saqlain Mushtaq remains the only offspinner I have seen who could bowl the doosra without throwing it. I witnessed that when I faced him at the WACA in the late 1990s.
Sunile Narine, who was one of my teammates at the Kolkata Knight Riders, has been under official scrutiny over the last couple of years for his action. With rehabilitation, he has shown the world that he can bowl all his deliveries with a straight arm. I believe that his trouble happened when he came under immense pressure and tried to bowl his deliveries with extra pace. But his is a prime example of a player who has adapted because of the doubt cast on his action. Players’ careers and integrity are important to them, and any cricketer worth his salt will do whatever it takes to earn the respect of his peers.
I believe umpires should be encouraged to call bowlers for throwing when they see it. I know that has caused an uproar in the past, but it would force players to correct their actions. It would also encourage younger generations of offspinners to be more careful with their actions. This would encourage the proper art of offspin bowling.
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I’ve seen where T20 works and where it doesn’t, and in my view the best tournaments are the IPL and the Big Bash League. I think the format of the Big Bash should not be tinkered with. The local derbies work, and the timing is perfect. At Christmas, when the kids are enjoying school holidays, there’s a natural gap in the Test match schedule, and the Big Bash provides perfect nightly entertainment, both for the cricket lover and for those new to the game. It is classic family entertainment, and the promoters have been smart enough to keep ticket prices down.
If they want to bring any more teams into the Big Bash, I’d suggest they come from New Zealand – perhaps teams from the South Island and the North Island. Then we'd have ten teams, all of which could play each other once. I wouldn’t tamper with it much more than that.
I don’t believe the Big Bash is threatening Test cricket. It complements the main game, and the two can live happily next to one another. Each has a market.
I do think, however, that Test cricket needs a bit of tinkering. With the T20 format now part of the cricket landscape, a lot of people won’t sit and watch a game that lasts for days. It’s crucial they make Test cricket more attractive to the spectator. That includes playing more day/night Tests, which would appeal more to the worker and to families, and would suit the hot Australian summer. And we should forget about traditional creams and start playing Tests in colours. Also – why not play with the white ball?
