 "Crease control")
WHO WANTS TO BE A BATSMAN?
Author: Simon Hughes
Publisher: Simon and Schuster
Pages: 280
Price: Rs 500
For example, in this anecdote-rich book, he tells us how Sanath Jaisuriya would get the opposing side to alter the field placing to his liking by sweeping the first ball he faced down to fine leg. This would persuade the opposing captain to move a man down there, and then Jaisuriya would be free to tap the ball down for singles to square leg.
The batsman from whom Jaisuriya took his cue was Sir Vivian Richards. Sir Viv had very a different approach, though - wham, bam, thank you ma'm.
He would swagger down to the wicket with his cap slightly askew, slowly chewing gum and holding his bat across his chest like a club or Kalashnikov. The very sight of this would throw the fielding side off balance. Single-savers would shuffle back a step or two even before Richards had faced a ball.
In another little gem, Hughes says that in Australia, where verbal aggression is held in very high regard, a meek batsman would be greeted with a shout "This one is still one tit."
But, as Ian Bell has shown, it doesn't matter how you walk to the crease; what matters is what you do after you reach it. Bell's walk was a very tentative one but he has scored many runs.
As Shane Warne once said about Sachin Tendulkar after being pasted by him all over the ground in Sharjah, it is about getting into position at superfast speeds. The ball reaches you in the blink of an eye or about between 0.2 and 0.5 seconds. It might be swinging, turning or bouncing. You have to know what to do with it instantly.
Besides, there is fear in your heart, not only because the ball is very hard and may hit you but also because you get only one chance to make a mistake. Tendulkar - and other greats like him - knew what the bowler would do just an instant before he bowled. If they got out, it was largely because they made a mistake or what in tennis is called an unforced error.
No wonder, says Hughes, the fellows are so superstitious. Michael Atherton simply had to be the first on the ground while going into bat, sometimes even jostling past his partner. Mark Ramprakash chewed the same piece of gum throughout the day and if he was not out overnight, he would stick it on top of the bat to chew the next day.
Then there are those who need to do a dump before they have to go in. This sometimes leads to a change in the batting order if two wickets fall in succession. But the funniest was the colleague, says Hughes, who gave a new name to 'wristy' player: he would go and masturbate!
Hughes also says eyesight doesn't matter. Bradman's wasn't all that great and Sehwag wore lenses or glasses, as did many others, like Clive Lloyd. He says classical technique doesn't matter very much either.
What matters is a sort of sixth sense that all sportsmen have. He tells the story of the ace footballer who was asked to kick the ball blindfolded at the goal bar and he did. He knew instinctively where it was.
It's exactly the same with all the great batsmen. Sunil Gavaskar, for example, could tell from the way the bowler was running in as to what he was going to do.
Hughes seems to have failed in batting consistently. Once, his county side needed 10 runs off 10 balls. Malcolm Marshall ran in and bowled, says Hughes, an unplayable off-cutter. Hughes stuck his bat out, got a loud nick and the keeper took it.
But the umpire turned down all appeals whereupon Marshall, beside himself with rage, sweating and veins standing out, came up to Hughes, sucked in his breath in the West Indian manner and said, "Well, f***k me."
The fielders were also saying to each other that Hughes was a cheat and suddenly, overwhelmed by the moment, he found himself walking.
When he reached the pavilion Mike Gatting asked him if he had touched the ball. Hughes said that he had no idea, whereupon one of team offered up this explanation. "I fink his a******e fell out."
That, says Hughes, was the best explanation for what had just happened. No other which fitted.
His self-deprecatory humour offsets his lack of runs. Once, when he went out to bat in a county match, he found someone had slipped a condom on to the handle.
He took it off and started to bat and then he realised that the lubricant had made the handle so slippery that it flew out of his hand. So he took the other batsman's bat - only to find that his gloves too had become slippery.
He got out. His side lost the match.
Author: Simon Hughes
Publisher: Simon and Schuster
Pages: 280
Price: Rs 500
More From This Section
It is been said that those who can, do; those who can't, teach. The cricket equivalent of that is those who can, play; those who can't, become experts. Simon Hughes is well-regarded as an expert and, well, he did play. But he is not known at all in India; in England he is known as The Analyst. And as we have seen occasionally on TV, he does a very good job of analysing. He has, if one may put it like that, the same eye for what batsmen are up to as batsmen have for what bowlers are up to.
For example, in this anecdote-rich book, he tells us how Sanath Jaisuriya would get the opposing side to alter the field placing to his liking by sweeping the first ball he faced down to fine leg. This would persuade the opposing captain to move a man down there, and then Jaisuriya would be free to tap the ball down for singles to square leg.
The batsman from whom Jaisuriya took his cue was Sir Vivian Richards. Sir Viv had very a different approach, though - wham, bam, thank you ma'm.
He would swagger down to the wicket with his cap slightly askew, slowly chewing gum and holding his bat across his chest like a club or Kalashnikov. The very sight of this would throw the fielding side off balance. Single-savers would shuffle back a step or two even before Richards had faced a ball.
In another little gem, Hughes says that in Australia, where verbal aggression is held in very high regard, a meek batsman would be greeted with a shout "This one is still one tit."
But, as Ian Bell has shown, it doesn't matter how you walk to the crease; what matters is what you do after you reach it. Bell's walk was a very tentative one but he has scored many runs.
As Shane Warne once said about Sachin Tendulkar after being pasted by him all over the ground in Sharjah, it is about getting into position at superfast speeds. The ball reaches you in the blink of an eye or about between 0.2 and 0.5 seconds. It might be swinging, turning or bouncing. You have to know what to do with it instantly.
Besides, there is fear in your heart, not only because the ball is very hard and may hit you but also because you get only one chance to make a mistake. Tendulkar - and other greats like him - knew what the bowler would do just an instant before he bowled. If they got out, it was largely because they made a mistake or what in tennis is called an unforced error.
No wonder, says Hughes, the fellows are so superstitious. Michael Atherton simply had to be the first on the ground while going into bat, sometimes even jostling past his partner. Mark Ramprakash chewed the same piece of gum throughout the day and if he was not out overnight, he would stick it on top of the bat to chew the next day.
Then there are those who need to do a dump before they have to go in. This sometimes leads to a change in the batting order if two wickets fall in succession. But the funniest was the colleague, says Hughes, who gave a new name to 'wristy' player: he would go and masturbate!
Hughes also says eyesight doesn't matter. Bradman's wasn't all that great and Sehwag wore lenses or glasses, as did many others, like Clive Lloyd. He says classical technique doesn't matter very much either.
What matters is a sort of sixth sense that all sportsmen have. He tells the story of the ace footballer who was asked to kick the ball blindfolded at the goal bar and he did. He knew instinctively where it was.
It's exactly the same with all the great batsmen. Sunil Gavaskar, for example, could tell from the way the bowler was running in as to what he was going to do.
Hughes seems to have failed in batting consistently. Once, his county side needed 10 runs off 10 balls. Malcolm Marshall ran in and bowled, says Hughes, an unplayable off-cutter. Hughes stuck his bat out, got a loud nick and the keeper took it.
But the umpire turned down all appeals whereupon Marshall, beside himself with rage, sweating and veins standing out, came up to Hughes, sucked in his breath in the West Indian manner and said, "Well, f***k me."
The fielders were also saying to each other that Hughes was a cheat and suddenly, overwhelmed by the moment, he found himself walking.
When he reached the pavilion Mike Gatting asked him if he had touched the ball. Hughes said that he had no idea, whereupon one of team offered up this explanation. "I fink his a******e fell out."
That, says Hughes, was the best explanation for what had just happened. No other which fitted.
His self-deprecatory humour offsets his lack of runs. Once, when he went out to bat in a county match, he found someone had slipped a condom on to the handle.
He took it off and started to bat and then he realised that the lubricant had made the handle so slippery that it flew out of his hand. So he took the other batsman's bat - only to find that his gloves too had become slippery.
He got out. His side lost the match.