Sings like a Kaneria, stings like a bee

Turning a cricket ball out of the back of the hand for a living can do strange things to some people. Take Danish Kaneria and Stuart MacGill. It is hard to imagine there has been a more tortured or expressive face in cricket than that of Danish Parabha Shanker Kaneria. Andre Nel runs him close. Maybe Tino Best. But, day in day out, the whirring wristspinner from Karachi looks most likely to burst a blood vessel.

One delivery of Kaneria's from the third Test in Lahore lives in the memory. As Pakistan strained for wickets after lunch on the first day, seeking to re-establish themselves with a series victory over the Ashes winners, he slid a topspinner past Paul Collingwood's bat that hit his pad just a fraction outside leg stump. That was close enough for Kaneria. He spun around to the umpire, eyes on fire, arms threatening to fly off his body into the stand and let out a screeching appeal not once but three times - possibly a record, even on the subcontinent. It was not given, a decision Kaneria accepted with equanimity totally at odds with the minor cerebral eruption we had witnessed seconds before.

All great bowlers have attitude. And, while Kaneria has a little way to go to be considered alongside the likes of Shane Warne, Muttiah Muralitharan or Anil Kumble, his effort transmits itself across the ether, as does that of Nel and Best. I love watching them. The trick for Kaneria - and for all slow bowlers - is to mix subtlety and venom, to remain simultaneously composed and wound up. Fast bowlers have the luxury of roaring in with uncomplicated savagery. Spinners operate in a psychologically more restricted environment. Kaneria's is the sort of near-crazed commitment Roy Keane brought to every tackle at Manchester United. It is the mien of the All Blacks' haka. It is undiluted passion.

He is an interesting bowler. Sometimes he is innocuous; at other times he looks as if he could run through a side. He took 1 for 106 in the first innings of the first Test but came to life with four wickets in the second innings as England succumbed. Then he went wicketless in the draw at Faisalabad before destroying England in the final innings at Lahore. But, winning or losing, effective or thrashed to all parts, Kaneria's face is alive and engaged. It's as if bowling for Pakistan matters more to him than breathing. He is 25, has taken 143 wickets in 31 Tests with the prospect of many more to come. It is easy to understand why he loves his job. He almost demands to be picked through sheer force of personality.

MacGill does not. I would say he is by some way a more dangerous bowler, with far sharper turn, decent accuracy and, when selected, he has the comfort of bowling for a team who invariably score enough runs for him to play with. But, where Kaneria exudes youthful mania and energy, MacGill, subconsciously at least, plays the part of the old pro, happy to help out when asked. He was in fine form at home against West Indies, carving his legbreaks through the air with considerable menace. So well did he bowl, it looked as if Warne upped his own game a gear or two in response. But there is always the feeling that he is a guest at the party.

MacGill, the perennial understudy, has every right to feel his gifts have never been wholly appreciated. Yet he betrays no such resentment. He knows Warne is the best bowler the game has seen and, when the opportunity arises, he just makes the best of it. I often wonder how good he could have been had there been no Warne, if he'd had the incentive that Kaneria obviously has as a first-choice slow bowler. Playing consistently at the highest level, MacGill surely would have had to add layers to his bowling not demanded of him playing for his State.

Cricket to the 34-year-old MacGill, played out for the most part in front of small crowds, has to be more a job than the ultimate test that it is for Warne, who is only a year older. The challenges for MacGill are more mundane and his fatalism occasionally surfaces in interviews. He is more comfortable talking about his growing wine collection than he is batting back the inevitable questions about ever supplanting Warne (though he did once in the Caribbean in 1998-99).

As with the few other legspinners operating in first-class domestic cricket in Australia, MacGill is ritually mocked when he bowls with chants of `Warney!' It doesn't appear to faze him. Indeed, he keeps getting better. Where Kaneria lets his emotions show, he also has learnt to contain them, to keep his cool between deliveries. MacGill down the years has struggled to control his temper. It might be frustration, the weight of being so very good he would earn a place in most Test sides while having to acknowledge his contributions will be no more than occasional. Either way, we are lucky to have enjoyed the artistry of all of them.

Kevin Mitchell is chief sports writer of The Observer