Martin Johnson: Atherton considers soft option (26 August 1997)

Tuesday 26 August 1997

Atherton considers soft option

Martin Johnson on Tuesday

NINETEEN runs - less than an over of involuntary snicks to third man - is not much of a margin, but in the black and white world of British sport, it equates to the proverbial country mile. Furthermore, when you happen to be the England cricket captain, an outside edge here and an umpiring decision there is also the difference between finding yourself portrayed as a root vegetable over your morning marmalade, or peering at "Carry On, Mike!" headlines through the blur of a celebration hangover.

Similarly, the tap room conversation at the Dog and Partridge takes a subtly different twist. "Four Tests to one, hasn`t scored a bloody run, and couldn`t captain a rowing boat" becomes "never gives an inch, still the best opener we`ve got, and who the hell else is there anyway?"

Atherton has never been one to be unduly influenced by media opinion, or by people whose arguments are fuelled by several pints of Old Braincrusher.

Like most England cricket captains of recent vintage, Atherton entered the job believing that neither the rigours of the job, nor the inevitable criticisms, would get to him. However, there is an MCC member whose eardrums are still humming like tuning forks after a pavilion-step contretemps at Headingley, and the good-natured atmosphere of Atherton`s early press conferences have long since given way to a robotic, let`s-get-this-over-with attitude. He has also used them to exercise the perverse streak in his nature, turning up chirpy in defeat, and monosyllabic in victory.

And yet who can blame him? Even before picking up the papers yesterday morning he will have known that cricket would not have featured very heavily on the tabloid back pages. Had England lost by 19 runs, on the other hand, the "Barnsley Hit For Six" headlines might well have had less appeal than "He`ll Ath To Go!" Whether newspapers merely reflect the na- tional pysche, as opposed to dictating it, is a moot point, but in general terms, we much prefer a good moan to a give-the-lads-a-knighthood syndrome.

It is a common complaint, voiced indeed by Atherton himself, that our cricketers are mentally too flabby compared with the likes of Australia`s, but what happens on those occasions when we produce captains who would make Ian Chappell look more courteous than Sir Pelham Warner? Douglas Jardine, who probably should have been knighted, was regarded as a particularly bad egg, and for all their success, Tony Greig and Raymond Illingworth had far too much of the win-at-all-costs mentality to ever strike a comfortable chord with the egg-andbacon ties.

Atherton himself was a near victim of the peculiarly British perception of being sole guardians of high moral stan- dards, when his fitness to lead his country was called into question by a general outpouring of pious cant over alleged, and certainly non-proven, ball tampering. He carried on, but the boyish enthusiasm for the job was gone forever.

While Atherton himself has no great wish to be Aus- tralian, he can identify far more readily with that country`s hardnosed attitude to top-level sport. The ECB plan is well in- tentioned, but we`re hardly likely to toughen up our cricket by Durham and Derbyshire locking horns in a play-off for 15th and 16th places next year. You only have to turn on a TV in Australia, or the radio in England, to realise that it`s either imbedded in the culture, or it isn`t.

You need a set of asbestos eardrums to watch a Test match on Australian TV, where a shout of `Got` Im!` from Bill Lawry, or an `On your bike, Charlie!` from Tony Greig is enough to have the dog cowering and whimpering behind the sofa.

By contrast, we have Test Match Special, with its garden party on the lawn type of atmosphere, and whose commentators are fondly believed to exist on the original Marie Antoinette diet - cake, and more cake. Blofeld croons on about the pigeons and buses, Vic chortles, and not even the radical introduc- tion of putting it on the Internet has altered its chummy tone.

When Agnew was struck down by a rogue prawn on Friday, were the surfers treated to a serious discussion on England`s dietary problems on overseas tours, with particular reference to the crustacean calamity on the eve of the 1993 Test in Madras?

Were they heck. Listeners were invited to e-mail their home-made remedies to Agnew, at a time when he was balancing his laptop on his knees in the bathroom. The commentators will doubtless have their own individual web sites before long, so look out for www.don`t know what`s going off out there@Fred`s pipe/bewildered/in my day.co.uk.

It is these thoughts of chocolate cake that Atherton should have taken away with him - probably to some trout fish- ery in the Lake District - rather than the custard-pie syndrome that comes with the territory. Compared to the likes of Gra- ham Turnip, Bobby `In the Name of God, Go!` Robson, and Screaming Lord Ted, he`s not been badly treated.

Athers, old boy, if the appetite is still there, fine. If not, pack it in. You don`t owe England anything. Besides which, as a private, given the West Indian tradition of targetting visiting cricket captains with their ear, nose and throat specialists, you might even get something to hit off the front foot.

Source :: The Electronic Telegraph (https://www.telegraph.co.uk/)