Given cricket’s uniquely radical transformation over the final third of the 20th century, it is perhaps only to be expected, and certainly forgiveable, that worthwhile innovations have been hard to come by of late (don’t get me started on powerplays or any other pointless attempt to make life even easier for those spoiled-brat batters). Which is why the current umpiring revolution warrants a good deal more than three cheers.
If cricket were a normal sporting obsession, we Englishmen would be celebrating right now. June 4, after all, marked the 50th anniversary of Peter May and Colin Cowdrey’s fourth-wicket stand of 411 against West Indies at Edgbaston, still the highest stand for their country in Tests. For heaven’s sake, it almost inspired the second post-follow-on triumph in Test annals, pre-empting ’81 And All That by nearly a quarter of a century. Lordships have been awarded for less. Instead, the birthday passed with barely a whisper.
There were exceptions. While researching an article about the alliance, I thought I’d check out Cowdrey’s autobiography to elicit some first-hand reflections. Astonishingly, for all the extensive memory-riffing in May’s memoirs, the cupboard was as bare as that hearteningly cynical chapter in Len Shackleton’s autobiography about football club chairmen, which comprised a single wordless page. Do we assume that, reminiscing and writing a couple of decades after the fact, Cowdrey and his ghost, Ian Wooldridge, experienced a collective hard-drive crash? I rather doubt it. In which case, the only other option, from where I’m sitting, is embarrassment.
Let’s examine the evidence. Another legendary landmark established at Birmingham was Sonny Ramadhin’s 98 overs in that second innings, arguably the most untouchable Test figure this side of 99.94. Overburdened by the non-selection of little pal Alf Valentine and injuries to new-ballers Frank Worrell and Roy Gilchrist, “Ram”, who had maintained his decade-long mastery of Englishmen in the first innings with a smartly-spun (and, by his own admission, well-chucked) 7-49, was a broken man by the end. Come sun-up he was still “aching all over”. Small wonder he was never remotely the same force again.
He still went for well under two an over, but his opponents weren’t bothered about run-rates. They had a match to save. And they did their duty mostly by dint of thrusting pads ever further down the pitch and kicking the ball away, as recommended by selector Wilf Wooller. Cowdrey took the best part of eight hours to reach three figures. Trevor Bailey - who as next man in grew so worn out waiting he declined to do so by the time Cowdrey finally obliged – reckoned Ramadhin had at least 100 appeals turned down flat.
Fast forward and the legacy is twofold and doubly welcome. For one thing, had it not been for the torpor and ennui instigated May and Cowdrey, breeding as it did a veritable epidemic of pad play, it is tempting to wonder whether the clamour for the limited-overs revolution would have been so fervent. The Sixties, after all, proved rather longer on longuers than thrills.
For another, Law 36B, a pointed repudiation of pad-play, would eventually permit umpires to award leg-before verdicts if they did not detect any attempt to play the ball, curbing if not terminating such tactics. Now, finally, we are witnessing closure. Whenenever umpires, regularly if not uniformly borne out by Hawkeye, give a batsman out with his front foot well outside the crease, bat tucked shamelessly behind pad, I bet I’m not alone in letting rip with an inner yelp of delight. Those harbouring geometric objections, remember the philosophical justification, and from whence it sprang.
Rob,
Nice article. However, pad play continues to remain an effective test match weapon even in this day and age of 20-20. 40 years after May and Cowdrey, we had Jimmy "Padams" saving windies for one more series before they finally lost one to India. The trouble is, there aren't that many youngsters these days dreaming of earning a Test cap as opposed to a one day cap as it increasingly becomes the dominant version of the game. While pad play is decidedly one of the least attractive parts of batting, its importance in test cricket is hardly diminished. True, it has become less popular with Englishmen since May and Cowdrey, but I suspect a certain leg spinner from Austalia in the last decade had a fairly important role to play in that, as Mike Gatting would certainly testify. I don't recall Gatting ever being his old self again. If ever a batsman is to be remembered for dismissals, it must be Gatting: the reverse sweep in the world cup final of 1987, and the attempt to pad outside leg stump against Warne in 1993. No wonder one rarely sees an Englishman playing the sweep or using the pads as the first line of defense these days.
Posted by: Samir Chopra on 06/18/2007
Spinners have been very poorly treated by umpires over the years when it comes to LBW decisions - left-armer's arm-balls don't meet their approval, and of course, as Rob points out, it has been all to easy to push a bit down the pitch, pad in front, bat behind, not intending to play, and get the benefit of the 'doubt'. The ball that goes on straight (whether bowled by leggies, offies or lefties) has simply been taken out of the equation for too long. Pakistan's Asad Rauf has started to hand out some of these and I, like Rob, applaud the trend. Batsmen need to realize the pad is for protection, not for play. They have a bat, and should learn to use it.
Posted by: Anonymous on 06/19/2007
Spinners have been very poorly treated by umpires over the years when it comes to LBW decisions - left-armer's arm-balls don't meet their approval, and of course, as Rob points out, it has been all to easy to push a bit down the pitch, pad in front, bat behind, not intending to play, and get the benefit of the 'doubt'. The ball that goes on straight (whether bowled by leggies, offies or lefties) has simply been taken out of the equation for too long. Pakistan's Asad Rauf has started to hand out some of these and I, like Rob, applaud the trend. Batsmen need to realize the pad is for protection, not for play. They have a bat, and should learn to use it.
Posted by: Mike P on 06/19/2007
Great article - good to read about what appears to be the genesis of what my colleagues have referred to as the "English Disease." As an American, I am probably in a tiny minority of cricket fans who are obsessed with Test cricket. While friends have bemoaned the use of pads for play, I personally like it. From my perspective, it indeed comes across as weak tactic, but I really like to see the abrupt thrust of a pad in disdain of a delivery. Sure, it reeks of ennui. But that's the absolute beauty of Test cricket - can the plodding pace be dealt with effectively? Or will the mental breakdown take the helm? Hell, I've struggled just to watch for three straight hours. The mental toughness required for long spells in the middle really fascinates me - there is NOTHING like it in any American sport. I am a huge fan of this counter-intuitive, seemingly boredom-soaked strategy. I am all too aware of the need to score huge and entertain crowds at the same time. It's the only way in America anymore. For me, to watch the plodding focus of pad-aways, forward defensive shots and shouldering-of-arms is mesmerizing. Like some exotic drug. If I had grown-up playing cricket, I imagine I'd be weary of this kind of thing. But having only 4+ years under my belt, seeing the crushing boredom of a defiant batsman viciously defend his wicket with little regard to run-scoring in a Test is a real joy. Call me weird, but seems to me the solution was the invention of the ODI. I won't speak to the variations of an umpire's decision-making. I see the point in the statement "They have a bat, and should learn to use it." While I can appreciate it, I just can't agree with it.
Posted by: Berbician on 06/19/2007
When Ramadhin said that he "threw" his quicker ball, he was only joking.
Posted by: wizman on 06/24/2007
Left-arm around the wicket bowlers are getting a *LOT* more decisions in their favour nowadays.
These bowlers seem to be the sun-dried tomato of cricket post 2000.
Rob Steen is a sportswriter and senior lecturer in sports journalism at
the University of Brighton whose books include biographies of Desmond
Haynes and David Gower (1995 Cricket Society Literary Award winner) and
500-1 - The Miracle of Headingley '81. His 2004 investigation for The
Wisden Cricketer, Whatever Happened to the Black Cricketer?, won the
EU Journalism Award For diversity, against discrimination. Sports
Journalism - A Multimedia Primer, his latest offering, will be
published by Routledge in August.
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