The many roles of Ricky Skerritt
Ricky Skerritt is a man of many parts Rhodes scholar, former chief executive of St Kitts largest company, current manager of the West Indies cricket team
Tony Cozier
13-Jan-2002
Ricky Skerritt is a man of many parts Rhodes scholar, former
chief executive of St Kitts largest company, current manager
of the West Indies cricket team.
His present guise encompasses a host of other roles
diplomat, psychologist, headmaster, travel agent, time
keeper, nursemaid to which his bosses at the West Indies
Cricket Board (WICB) have just added another, that of
medical specialist.
According to a media release last week, one of Skerritt's
assignments at the WICB meeting in Antigua this weekend was
to answer questions about the injuries, illnesses and other
ailments that spread through his teams like an epidemic last
year.
The cause for concern is understandable and spelt out by
WICB president Reverend Wes Hall the debilitating short and
long term effects on the team and its development and the
significant additional expense in treatment and in shuttling
players back and forth to distant destinations to maintain
numerical strength.
As for the causes, Skerritt can only state the obvious and
speculate on the rest.
A dislocated elbow, a twisted knee, a wrenched ankle are
plain bad luck, nothing more, nothing less. Strained
muscles, stress (acute fatique syndrome is the new medical
terminology) and some of the other reasons cited for aborted
tours of late are something different.
It is why Hall said he would seek more qualified analysis
from the Caribbean Association of Sports Medicine.
They might be able to add a valuable insight but Ronald
Rogers, the sports therapist who has had to deal with more
ailments in his short time with the West Indies team than
most specialists at the QEH, has already provided one
simple, plausible explanation.
It is that players now come into the West Indies team not
fit enough to meet the demands of what has become a schedule
of non-stop international cricket.
"The fitter you are, the less likely you are to get an
injury and, if you do, the rehabilitation period is faster,
he said.
Until clubs, schools and the territorial boards appreciate
that and embrace what he terms a culture of fitness the
cycle of breakdowns and withdrawals will continue, he warns.
It is a dictum that Dennis Waight, the tough little fitnessfreak from the tough world of Australian rugby league,
instilled in Clive Lloyd's team when he was first assigned
the job during World Series Cricket.
It was not talent alone that made the West Indies of that
era so invincible. Their supreme physical condition ensured
that the team was seldom disrupted by dropouts and was
invariably at full strength.
The Australians and South Africans have more recently
adopted the Waight philosophy, ratcheted it up several
notches and refined it with the latest technology so readily
available to them.
The effect is reflected in their present dominance on the
field.
There is an awesome picture in one of the recent Australian
magazines of several of their players in swimsuits on the
beach. They look like perfectly sculptured Olympic athletes
or, if you prefer, white Viv Richards and Desmond Haynes in
their prime.
It is an image that helps explain their recent daunting
record. Like the West Indies of the 1980s, they not only bat
and bowl like champions but are panthers in the field, a
factor sometimes overlooked in assessing great teams.
And they don't break down and they don't cry off at the
slighest excuse.
The former England captain Mike Atherton, who had
considerable first-hand knowledge of it during his time at
the helm, has carried the correlation between an unfit team
and an unsuccessful one the logical step further than talent
and fitness.
Players become disillusioned and depressed by defeat. It
creates a lack of self-confidence and leads all but the
mentally toughest to seek to distance themselves from it.
A niggling pain here, some undetectable ache there, some
trivial excuse is enough to escape the misery of yet another
humiliation, such as those so frequently endured by the West
Indies over the last four years.
In such an environment, the dressing room is filled with
glum-faced crocks and airline seats with cricketers heading
home.
It is a fair theory that explains why the West Indies could
go through three successive series in the glorious 1980s
with nine of the same players and yet had to call on 21 for
three Tests and five One-Day Internationals in Sri Lanka
recently.
Nor has the phenomenon only now manifested itself. Hall,
himself then manager, had to call on three replacement
players during the 1995 tour of England. Manager Lloyd had
two of his number depart from South Africa in 1998-99 and
six others unavailable at one time or other during the tour.
It is the reason why Steve Waugh disregarded a pulled
hamstring to return to lead Australia in the last Ashes Test
at the Oval in August, scoring a hundred with a pronounced
limp in the bargain.
It is why then Garry Sobers refused to let an infected
finger or Malcolm Marshall a broken thumb put them out of a
Test match, and why Gordon Greenidge was at his most
dangerous when seemingly lame.
Conversely, it helps to answer several of the questions that
would have been put to Skerritt in Antigua.
It is up to those who listened to devise the solutions.