Jonathan Wilson
When sportsmen stop caring enough
The body and mind may be fit enough but athletes often retire when overcome by a profound weariness. Cases in point: Ponting and Swann
Jonathan Wilson
06-Apr-2014
A few weeks after retiring last year, Ricky Ponting said that he had done so because, although he felt his body and his mind were fit enough, he had lost his competitive spirit: he'd just stopped caring enough to play to the top of his abilities. Given how often sportspeople talk about passion and pride in playing for their country/state/county/club, it was an unusual admission and, it struck me as one that spoke profoundly about how modern professionals play the game.
I'm writing this, I should say, on the morning of my last-ever hockey match: in around seven hours my 14 years playing for the Barnes Beavers will be over, the trees around the astro in Reigate - scene of my last goal for the club ten years ago - will bow their heads, I'll peel off the pink-and-navy No. 8 shirt for the last time, and we'll return to our clubhouse by the Thames for the mother of all piss-ups. Retirement and the associated thoughts of mortality have been on my mind all season.
Drawing direct comparisons between professional cricket and extremely amateur hockey, of course, would be foolish, but when I read that interview, I realised what it was that had made me decide this would be my last season. It's true that a chronic hip injury is becoming increasingly troublesome, and there have been some games when I just couldn't bend to my left side - which cost us two goals against Addiscombe - but I could probably put up with it another year. And it's true that, despite my best efforts, my fitness is nothing like what it was but, again, with rolling subs I could probably have got away with it a little longer.
Full postHow much of a sportsman's story do you need to know?
Journalists may crave the minutest details, but fans are happy to leave some things to the imagination
Jonathan Wilson
24-Mar-2014
I probably shouldn't admit this, but on Thursday, while researching a book I'm writing on Argentinian football (it's called Angels with Dirty Faces, and it will be out, well, when it's finished), I came upon a figure I'd never come across before, a man called Jim Lopes, who seems to have coached the Argentina national team briefly in 1962 and 1967. My initial reaction was to be appalled. I've spent much of the last six years shuttling between Buenos Aires and London, conducting dozens of interviews, reading dozens of books and watching dozens of DVDs, and yet I'd never heard of him. How could I have missed him?
So I did the natural thing: I looked him up on Wikipedia. It turns out he has no page in English or in Spanish, but he does have an entry in Portuguese. I'm still not entirely convinced he's not an elaborate internet hoax, but he appears to have been a journeyman coach who spent most of his working life in Brazil. One detail, though, even in the bald details of that Wiki entry, stands out: he was born Alejandro Galan, but was known as Jim Lopes. How does that work? My desperate but probably vain hope is that he or his family had to change his name to escape a crime syndicate or the law, that his peripatetic career is explained by the fact that he was on the run.
I mentioned the story to a friend, whose immediate response, as a sort of semi-joking criticism, was, "Oh, you want to know everything." And of course she's right: that's the job of the journalist or historian; that's kind of the whole point of the exercise. And yet the fan in me rebels against that. The loss of mystery is a terrible thing.
Full postOn Twitter, sport is black and white
Sport has the capacity to forge bonds of connection, but it's hard to do that on platforms that encourage instant, reactive responses
Jonathan Wilson
10-Mar-2014
It wasn't the major incident of the game and, ultimately, it didn't alter the result. Quite rightly, reports on the last South Africa v Australia Test focused on what a magnificent game and series it had been, and on the retirement of Graeme Smith, mentioning the non-dismissal of Vernon Philander only in passing. Yet it was an incident that was revealing, partly about the DRS but mainly about how people around the game think.
To recap: Mitchell Johnson bowled a horrible bouncer at Philander, who was struck on the shoulder, the ball looping up and being caught by Alex Doolan. Australia, believing the ball had hit glove before shoulder, appealed, and Aleem Dar gave Philander out. Philander reacted first by shaking his right hand vigorously and then, as though realising the implications of that, trying to pretend he was manipulating his shoulder - which, in fairness, had taken a meaty whack.
Recovering some composure, he reviewed the decision. The replay showed the ball had missed the left glove - his front one - and the bat handle, but that it had flicked the top of his right thumb.
Full postBigger, better? Sorry, no
Why does cricket have to succumb to the marketers' eternal need for everything to be bigger, flashier, and more in tune with youth - whatever that means?
Jonathan Wilson
25-Feb-2014
My body has been failing me for years, but the first time I really became aware of growing old was listening to a debate on the future of
English T20 cricket three or four years ago. It was essential, one of the combatants insisted, to streamline the competition and
amalgamate counties into franchises. It's an argument often heard and, while I don't necessarily agree with it, I can at least see an
economic logic. But then he started saying that creating glamorous, heavily marketed franchises with their own brand values was the only way to bring in a younger demographic. It was all about creating a new audience.
And that's when I lost patience. It's not just that the last thing I want to do is hang around with young people - or at least young
people who act like marketing people believe young people act. I've put in the hard yards growing old and I've no intention of wasting
those years of effort now. I've finally reached an age when nobody even tentatively says at the end of a nice meal out, "Should we go to
a club?" Or if they do, they mean some members club with a nice quiet bar. Cricket, though, seems obsessed with young people, and I suppose marketers need to be. They are, after all, as Ignatius of Loyola pointed out, the future. But I always find it odd when an institution risks ostracising the audience it has in order to reach a putative new audience.
There is a strange gigantism in sport. Everything always has to be bigger and better (unless it's the list of Test-playing nations, in
which case the principle of the self-interested closed shop overrides all else). Profits always have to be higher. There always have to be more people through the gates, more people watching on television, more games. And, of course, it must be nice to be popular.
Full postCricket's not a lost cause yet
Sackings, revamps, and poor crowds are dispiriting to witness, but your faith in the game is restored when you get thrashed by U-17s while being cheered on by sympathetic schoolchildren
Jonathan Wilson
09-Feb-2014
The most gifted England batsman of my lifetime has gone, sacked in circumstances too opaque to make any kind of closure possible - which, inevitably, has sent Twitter into one of its periodic festivals of ill-informed self-righteousness. The ICC has adopted a new structure that I don't really understand but that seems likely to mean endless series between England, Australia and India with nobody else really getting a look in. A fascinating and unpredictable Test match unfolds in Auckland, watched by approximately a dozen people. There have been few weeks when my love of cricket has been so tested, when the whole sport has seemed so doomed. It feels as though there's a conspiracy of administrators and fans to sap anything resembling glee or hope from the game.
And then I think back to the week before last and a school near Kandy. On the Authors CC tour to Sri Lanka, we played at Test grounds in Kandy and Colombo - there are few things more incongruous for a player of my limited ability than seeing your name written on the scoreboard; few things more galling than watching the scorers then add a "3" next to it. We won a game against a team of planters on a gorgeous ground surrounded by hills covered in tea trees and we were soundly thrashed by a team featuring a Test player and the brilliant 16-year-old Pathum Nissanka, but by far the most memorable episode was what happened at Thalathuoya Central.
In a sense, it was a bit of an ambush. Seven of us popped along to donate kit and a matting pitch with the suggestion we should play a five-over game against pupils. We assumed it would be gentle, a thrash against some kids. We didn't go in whites, and took only two sets of pads and gloves. Rapidly, it turned out we had severely underestimated the challenge. The game was upgraded to ten overs a side, and it turned out we were playing their Under-17 team, bolstered by two U-19s.
Full postDown and out in Galle
One of cricket's great attributes is that it has room even for the not-so-competent. Sometimes, though, that allowance does not seem to apply
Jonathan Wilson
27-Jan-2014
There was, in retrospect, always something incongruous about me, at 37, just back after a decade-long break from cricket and not ever having been any good anyway, setting off for a tour of Sri Lanka. To say my technique has been exposed over the past few days doesn't begin even to hint at the prodding, poking humiliation that has been the nine balls that have comprised my two innings so far. It turns out there is no technique, merely a vacuum in pads that somehow manages to hold the bat. I began the tour hoping I could nurdle and greeble my way to a couple of quickish 20s or 30s; now there's a serious possibility I may go home having failed to score a single run.
Part of the problem is the outfields, which have both been slow and spongy: I'm just not getting full value for the outside edge through third slip that's my main scoring shot. It's also taken the confidence-building diving stop out of my fielding. In both games there has been a moment at which I've hurled myself to my right to intercept a drive, only to find the ball slowing dramatically, barely trickling into my chest. Both times I've batted so far, I've been batting with one of the more senior members of the side, which has eliminated the quick single that's usually my prime (only?) weapon. And, of course, when you're feeling a little down on yourself, a steepler plummets from the sky in front of you, you run in, lose it in the sun, and end up dropping the catch, bruising your knee and dragging your self-esteem even further beneath the surface.
The heat and the humidity, the sheer unfamiliarity of the surroundings, have been issues, but essentially we're struggling on this tour because the notion of hapless amateurism seems a very English one. I can compete at home because most English sides will have a player as bad as me. I can look at the opposition, pick out one player and if I score more runs than him and field more enthusiastically, I can feel I've done my job.
Full postWho's to blame when a player and coach fall out?
In football it's often clear whether a player's attitude or performance has a detrimental effect on the team. In cricket, that isn't so obvious from the outside
Jonathan Wilson
13-Jan-2014
As is probably apparent if you've read any of these columns before, I'm not a cricket writer. I'm a football writer and, while much of what I like about cricket is what makes it different from football, I have a tendency to interpret cricket through a footballing lens (something that is becoming increasingly easy to do as cricket seems determined to ape football, with its transfers, managerial dismissals, ill-advised micturition, bitter one-eyed fans and time-wasting: once players start diving, feigning injury and wearing inappropriate fancy dress, then we know we're doomed.) I'm never terribly clear how relevant or useful that is, but here, offered as a thought-experiment more than an actual argument, is a footballing take on the Andy Flower-Kevin Pietersen spat.
The archetype, of course, is very familiar: a coach whose method is (at least theoretically) based on meticulous preparation, discipline and hard work, who is occasionally criticised for being too methodical and cautious, struggling to deal with an awkward genius whose attacking style endears him to most - but not all - fans, but is unpredictable, whose brilliance can win games but comes at a cost.
Football history is littered with similar examples, from Arrigo Sacchi with Roberto Baggio to every England manager with Glenn Hoddle or Matt Le Tissier to, arguably, Jose Mourinho with Juan Mata (although awkwardness here covers a very broad spectrum).
Full postThe pull of sport during Christmas
Nothing makes a family get-together over the holidays more bearable than Test cricket on the telly
Jonathan Wilson
30-Dec-2013
Christmas is, fundamentally, a nostalgic festival. We essentially celebrate a Dickensian ideal, with a plump roast bird, a handful of tangerines and a few moments of benevolence somehow redeeming the year that has gone before. We want snow, we want trees, we want goodwill; and even if we don't really want Uncle Bill, we accept we probably ought to have him round because he is family and it is Christmas after all.
We drink sherry and eat sprouts even though we'd never dream of doing it at any other time in the year, and we watch nonsense on television that would normally bring us out in hives. And we do it all largely because we did it last year, and the year before that, and the year before that, and because our parents have been doing it for years and their grandparents for years before them. But one thing - I speak as somebody British who has only ever celebrated three of my 37 Christmases outside of Britain - has happened in recent years that has made the experience of Christmas infinitely better: and that is the coming of satellite television and the broadcast of overseas Test matches.
As Christmas Day begins to drag and you wonder if the relatives are ever going to leave, as you wonder whether a third glass of port will make things bearable or just give you an even worse hangover the next day, as you wonder if you can get away with watching another episode of Pointless (your mum weirdly having recorded most of the series - not that you're complaining), there is one thing that keeps you going, one star of wonder to follow through the wilderness: the knowledge that at 10.30 you can, with full justification, turn on the telly and watch the cricket. Suddenly Ian Ward becomes a great sage, a man whose words must be heard, and because others have a vague notion you're a sports journalist and because cricket seems like the sort of thing people should be respectful of, everybody shuts up. Mark Nicholas' interview at the toss commands greater silence than the Queen did at 3pm, his enthusiasm cowing any attempt at sarcasm.
Full postMurder and mysterious cricket footage
The curious case of Test match footage used in a TV crime drama
Jonathan Wilson
16-Dec-2013
A man has a row with a woman. He chases her out of his cottage and as she climbs into her car, she screams at him to go back to his wife. She drives off and he returns to the flat. He goes to bed. A little later a masked figure tips petrol through the letter box, then throws in a match. Noxious black smoke billows through the cottage and, although the fire soon goes out the man is killed. It later turns out he is the England batsman Kenneth Waring, fresh from scoring a Test century against Pakistan at Lord's the previous week.
This is the misleadingly titled "Playing for the Ashes" (nobody burns to death; nobody plays Australia), episode one of series two of the Inspector Lynley Mysteries, based on the 1995 Elizabeth George novel of the same name. There will, I should warn you, be spoilers ahead, although frankly nobody au fait with the immutable crime drama rule of the time, that the murderer will be played by the most famous actor involved who isn't a regular in the series, should be in any doubt from the off who was responsible.
The instinct when cricket is a theme in television drama is to cringe behind the sofa, but this isn't too bad. There are a couple of slightly odd-sounding, forced phrases as Lynley and his sergeant, Havers, discuss his love of the game, but Lynley just about gets away with it because his poshness and emotional repression lead him to speak fairly strangely anyway. The only real duff note comes when Lynley visits Waring's England team-mate Hugh Patten and interrupts a net session that seems to be taking place in the corner of a school playing field.
Full postThe grass must be green, the strip yellow
Unlike most other sports, cricket needs to look right to its fans, from the colour of the grass, the pitch and the stumps to the quality of the light
Jonathan Wilson
02-Dec-2013
I don't like those yellow stumps. Of all the things that were wrong with the first Test between Australia and England at the Gabba, the most wrong was the colour of the stumps. This is not, I realise, the sort of issue that's going to rally others to the barricades, or having them marching on to Dubai, but still, it seems to matter.
Cricket, more than any other game, with the possible exception of golf, is reliant on its aesthetic. A golf course may be a stunning test but it needs to look right as well: it needs to have the bleakness of the dunes or the manicured beauty of a park; it can't just be strips of grass of various lengths and the odd sandpit laid out in a car park. Similarly cricket, perhaps because of the length of time it's on, the way that for those of us watching on television it inhabits a corner of the room for hours at a time, has to get the aesthetic right.
Now that's not something that's simple to explain. It's not necessarily about looking beautiful. Some grounds do, of course: Lumley Castle looming over the Riverside at Chester-le-Street, redolent of the ghosts of Shane Watsons past; the pavilion at Lord's, reeking of history and daring batsmen to repeat Albert Trott's feat of striking the ball over it; the fort frowning over the inadequate ticketing arrangements at Galle. That's part of it, and you wonder with a sense of unease how the redevelopment at Adelaide will pan out.
Full post