Cricket commentators enthuse about how the opening salvos of an Ashes Test set the tone for the rest of the series. If you compare Steve Harmison’s opening delivery to second slip last Thursday with his bloodying of Justin Langer in 2005, or Nasser Hussain’s decision to field first in 2002 then you get the argument. Historically, I like to see things in a wider context and observe the whole series to get not just a feel for the cricket, but also a sense of the age.
The first English cricket team to venture overseas went not to Australia, but to the Americas. In 1859, a side sailed from Liverpool to compete against teams in Canada and the US, while the first visit to Australia did not take place until two years later. It was not until 1877 that the first designated Test took place.
The visit of the Honourable Ivo Bligh at the end of 1882 is remarkable because of the mythology that surrounds the recapturing of ‘the Ashes’, and the sham that surrounded the status of the fourth Test.
The tourists landed in Australia in November, with a determination to “beard the kangaroo in his den and try to recover those Ashes”. There were originally to be two Tests in Melbourne and one in Sydney, though a later fourth Test was agreed for Sydney. The squad of twelve players included six university Blues and two other ‘scholars’, along with four professionals – Fred Morley, Dick Barlow, Billy Bates and William Barnes.
Record crowds flocked to the matches, and a series ensued in which the weather played an important role, proving a disadvantage to the losing side in each of the first three contests. The Australians won the first by a convincing nine wickets.
Bates dominated the second Test becoming the first player to take a hat-trick He was also the first to score 50 and take more than ten wickets in a match (7 wickets in each innings), seeing England home by an innings - another first.
50,000 turned out to watch England win the third Test by 69 runs. What was remarkable was that only two bowlers – Morley and Barlow – were used to send down the 69.2 overs it took to dismiss Australia for 83 in the final innings.
Bligh claimed the ‘ashes’ at a dinner following the match. Then his team travelled to Sydney for the fourth Test, which they lost to a strengthened Australian side. By all accounts then, Australia would have retained the Ashes, being that the series was drawn. Bligh disputed this saying that they belonged to England as only three Tests were on the original schedule. Yet the Melbourne Argus had published an itinerary showing four Tests, as early as January 4 (in between the first and second contests).
Bligh represented the English ruling-class, and the Australian authorities didn’t want to upset their only means of international competition. Bligh also symbolised English cricket’s wider preoccupation with the notion of leadership. The professionals carried this team, yet the right person was always considered to be more important that the ability to perform. Bligh’s contributions to the tour were 0, 3, 0, 13, 17, 19 and 10. He didn’t bowl and so didn’t warrant a place in the side.
And his team didn’t deserve the Ashes.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
The Hidden Drugs Issue
Pakistan’s preparations for the Champions trophy have been anything but orthodox. Having seemingly recovered from the controversy over ball-tampering, they then lost the head of their Cricket Board and the captain, although he reinstated a day later.
The team was thrown into further turmoil by the withdrawal from their squad of their leading quick bowlers Shoaib Akhtar and Mohammad Asif for the alleged use of nandrolone, a proscribed drug that assists muscle bulk.
To some this will provide further evidence of the skulduggery inherent in Pakistani cricket. “The only thing surprising about the two Pakistan players failing drugs tests”, remarked former New Zealand wicket-keeper, Adam Parore, “is that it hasn't happened sooner”. He shared his doubts about players body shapes and their incredible ability to bowl 25 overs on a searing hot day whilst seeming to get faster.
In comparison to other sports cricket does not have a drugs problem. Most cases have involved the private recreational use of illegal substances, which can hardly be claimed to enhance performance. Yet they have led to lengthy periods out of the game for the likes of Graham Wagg and Ed Giddens. Compare this to the bravado that celebrated Freddie and the lads’ all-night drinking binge following the Ashes victory over Australia. One person’s drug maybe another’s poison, but it is clear that inconsistency and hypocrisy are frequent bedfellows.
If cricket has a drugs issue it is not pot, cocaine or even beer, but something far more menacing. Ex-England fast-bowler Angus Fraser wrote in his column in The Independent of the widespread use of anti-inflammatory or painkilling tablets taken by fast-bowlers.
Ex-captain Bob Willis had to endure ten injections in his knee on the 1974-75 tour to Australia. He still didn’t last the whole series, and spent the next winter on the dole queue. Central contracts now look after the top players in most countries, though the rewards to Pakistanis of £1500-2500 a month compare poorly to what most county cricketers can expect.
Ultimately, the fast-bowler is the proletarian element of any team, for to he lies the extremes of physical labour. To regularly thrust one’s all into the delivery of a ball at 90 MPH will inevitably have repercussions on the body. The career is short, and the rewards have to be enjoyed while they can, for they are an injury away from ineffectiveness.
I am not suggesting that cricketers have used banned drugs in order to stay fit or to speed up recovery. The use of nandrolone as an effective recovery agent is not scientifically proven. I am saying that there are intense pressures on players to maintain their fitness in the circus that has become world cricket. We have a Champions Trophy less than six months before a World Cup, and all teams will play major Test series in between. The time for recuperation is secondary to the opportunity to promote the game, play more cricket and make more money.
The bodies that run cricket create the conditions for abuse by making ever increasing physical and mental demands on players. This, if nothing else, highlights cricket’s place in the greater scheme of labour verses capital. If the 31 year-old Shoaib is served the recommended two year ban, we may not see him bowl again. Cricket will be poorer for his absence.
The team was thrown into further turmoil by the withdrawal from their squad of their leading quick bowlers Shoaib Akhtar and Mohammad Asif for the alleged use of nandrolone, a proscribed drug that assists muscle bulk.
To some this will provide further evidence of the skulduggery inherent in Pakistani cricket. “The only thing surprising about the two Pakistan players failing drugs tests”, remarked former New Zealand wicket-keeper, Adam Parore, “is that it hasn't happened sooner”. He shared his doubts about players body shapes and their incredible ability to bowl 25 overs on a searing hot day whilst seeming to get faster.
In comparison to other sports cricket does not have a drugs problem. Most cases have involved the private recreational use of illegal substances, which can hardly be claimed to enhance performance. Yet they have led to lengthy periods out of the game for the likes of Graham Wagg and Ed Giddens. Compare this to the bravado that celebrated Freddie and the lads’ all-night drinking binge following the Ashes victory over Australia. One person’s drug maybe another’s poison, but it is clear that inconsistency and hypocrisy are frequent bedfellows.
If cricket has a drugs issue it is not pot, cocaine or even beer, but something far more menacing. Ex-England fast-bowler Angus Fraser wrote in his column in The Independent of the widespread use of anti-inflammatory or painkilling tablets taken by fast-bowlers.
Ex-captain Bob Willis had to endure ten injections in his knee on the 1974-75 tour to Australia. He still didn’t last the whole series, and spent the next winter on the dole queue. Central contracts now look after the top players in most countries, though the rewards to Pakistanis of £1500-2500 a month compare poorly to what most county cricketers can expect.
Ultimately, the fast-bowler is the proletarian element of any team, for to he lies the extremes of physical labour. To regularly thrust one’s all into the delivery of a ball at 90 MPH will inevitably have repercussions on the body. The career is short, and the rewards have to be enjoyed while they can, for they are an injury away from ineffectiveness.
I am not suggesting that cricketers have used banned drugs in order to stay fit or to speed up recovery. The use of nandrolone as an effective recovery agent is not scientifically proven. I am saying that there are intense pressures on players to maintain their fitness in the circus that has become world cricket. We have a Champions Trophy less than six months before a World Cup, and all teams will play major Test series in between. The time for recuperation is secondary to the opportunity to promote the game, play more cricket and make more money.
The bodies that run cricket create the conditions for abuse by making ever increasing physical and mental demands on players. This, if nothing else, highlights cricket’s place in the greater scheme of labour verses capital. If the 31 year-old Shoaib is served the recommended two year ban, we may not see him bowl again. Cricket will be poorer for his absence.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
The Rise of the House of Tata
As England suffer in the heat at the Champions Trophy, recent events remind us that India is not just eclipsing the old country at her favoured imperial export, but is showing its muscle in the world of manufacturing as well.
The business world is rife with the rumour that Tata, the Indian multinational is to make a bid for Corus, the Anglo-Dutch concern responsible for what remains of the British steel industry.
Tata is one of the oldest business conglomerates in India, with revenues last year of £12 billion, the equivalent of about 2.8 per cent of the country’s GDP, and a market capitalisation of £25 billion. The Tata Group includes billion dollar divisions in software services, cars, hotels communications, chemicals, engineering and consumer products in a network of almost 100 operating companies.
Founded by Jamsetji Tata, known as the ‘father of Indian industry’, theirs was the country’s first Indian-owned textile mill, national airline and first integrated steel plant. They also had a big role in the development of cricket.
The Tatas were an important family within the small Parsi community that had fled Iran following religious persecution in the 6th century. Given sanctuary in India they were allowed to maintain their own customs and culture and as a result never became totally integrated. Under British rule they became useful social and economic middlemen adapting to Western occupations as they were not bound by tradition or caste laws. Furthermore, they were familiar with Indian customs and languages, and placed an emphasis on education.
During the 1840s a group of Parsis imitated British military officers playing cricket. Their enthusiasm was discouraged by an imperial order that insisted on racial segregation. Despite this, in 1848 The Oriental Cricket Club was formed. Two years later it was renamed The Zoroastrian Cricket Club, with funds from the Tata and Wadia families. They still had to wait until 1877, though, before a British team would grant them a contest.
Founded in 1887, the Tata group ranked alongside Birla as the largest business concern in India. Its association with cricket dates from the foundation of the Tata Sports Club in 1937. Following independence the Tata side dominated Bombay’s prestigious Times of India inter-office tournament, winning in nine of sixteen years. In the 1977-78 season they became the first company to boast of having two sides in the A Division.
Today Tata’s interest in cricket mirrors that of its wider commercial concerns. It employs leading players such as ex-captain Sourav Ganguly to promote products such as the ‘Sourav Fone’.
Corus is much larger than its possible suitor, ranked the world’s eighth largest producer of steel, with Tata Steel not producing enough to get into the global top 50. But this shows the ambition of a nation challenging China for dominance in the manufacturing sector.
There are obvious concerns that a takeover could result in heavy losses for the 41,000-strong European workforce, though it is doubtful that this will concern the Corus management, whose chief executive Philippe Varin stands to make up to £8.1m if the steelmaker is taken over. Varin, who has run the group for only three years, has 1.4 million shares and options in the company. Things might be changing, but when it comes to greed English capitalists can compete with the best.
The business world is rife with the rumour that Tata, the Indian multinational is to make a bid for Corus, the Anglo-Dutch concern responsible for what remains of the British steel industry.
Tata is one of the oldest business conglomerates in India, with revenues last year of £12 billion, the equivalent of about 2.8 per cent of the country’s GDP, and a market capitalisation of £25 billion. The Tata Group includes billion dollar divisions in software services, cars, hotels communications, chemicals, engineering and consumer products in a network of almost 100 operating companies.
Founded by Jamsetji Tata, known as the ‘father of Indian industry’, theirs was the country’s first Indian-owned textile mill, national airline and first integrated steel plant. They also had a big role in the development of cricket.
The Tatas were an important family within the small Parsi community that had fled Iran following religious persecution in the 6th century. Given sanctuary in India they were allowed to maintain their own customs and culture and as a result never became totally integrated. Under British rule they became useful social and economic middlemen adapting to Western occupations as they were not bound by tradition or caste laws. Furthermore, they were familiar with Indian customs and languages, and placed an emphasis on education.
During the 1840s a group of Parsis imitated British military officers playing cricket. Their enthusiasm was discouraged by an imperial order that insisted on racial segregation. Despite this, in 1848 The Oriental Cricket Club was formed. Two years later it was renamed The Zoroastrian Cricket Club, with funds from the Tata and Wadia families. They still had to wait until 1877, though, before a British team would grant them a contest.
Founded in 1887, the Tata group ranked alongside Birla as the largest business concern in India. Its association with cricket dates from the foundation of the Tata Sports Club in 1937. Following independence the Tata side dominated Bombay’s prestigious Times of India inter-office tournament, winning in nine of sixteen years. In the 1977-78 season they became the first company to boast of having two sides in the A Division.
Today Tata’s interest in cricket mirrors that of its wider commercial concerns. It employs leading players such as ex-captain Sourav Ganguly to promote products such as the ‘Sourav Fone’.
Corus is much larger than its possible suitor, ranked the world’s eighth largest producer of steel, with Tata Steel not producing enough to get into the global top 50. But this shows the ambition of a nation challenging China for dominance in the manufacturing sector.
There are obvious concerns that a takeover could result in heavy losses for the 41,000-strong European workforce, though it is doubtful that this will concern the Corus management, whose chief executive Philippe Varin stands to make up to £8.1m if the steelmaker is taken over. Varin, who has run the group for only three years, has 1.4 million shares and options in the company. Things might be changing, but when it comes to greed English capitalists can compete with the best.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
An Innings of Substance
The passing of an exceptional cricketer allows us to reflect on their career as a player, but also, being that cricket is played against a historical backdrop, it permits an opportunity to assess the social circumstances in which they played sport.
Clyde Leopold Walcott was more than a mere cricketer - he spent most of his eighty years as a figurehead for the West Indies side. Walcott could do it all - he kept wicket for his first fifteen Tests, excelled with the bat, and claimed eleven Test wickets as a fast-medium change bowler. He was the first to score five centuries in a single Test series (1955 v Australia), and in an international career that spanned 12 years he averaged an impressive 56.68.
He will always be remembered as one of the ‘three W’s’ - the other two being Everton Weekes and Frank Worrell – who were born within a short distance of each other in Bridgetown, Barbados in a period of 18 months from August 1924 to January 1926. This remarkable triumvirate all made their Test cricket debut against England in 1948, and for the next ten years dominated West Indies batting.
Despite obvious leadership qualities, the West Indies captaincy remained the preserve of the white elite, and the best that Walcott achieved was the vice-captaincy in 1957.
After he finished playing he became coach, manager, administrator, president of the West Indies Cricket Board, and the first black man to chair the ICC.
His ascension replicated that of African-descendents in the Caribbean. The West Indies side was becoming increasingly democratised as a consequence of the anti-colonial movement’s inevitable progression to independence. Worrell would finally secure the captaincy of a black cricket team in 1960.
The Guyana team was traditionally recruited from among the Georgetown Cricket Club, which was the exclusive preserve of whites. Employed to coach players on the sugar plantations, Walcott helped unearth and groom players such as Rohan Kanhai, Basil Butcher and Joe Solomon. Joined by Roy Fredericks and Lance Gibbs, the Guyana cricket team advanced in unison with wider political developments.
If a consequence of race, Walcott was also a product of the nature of the class balances in the Caribbean. He was born into the black middle class, and like Worrell received an elite education. Many privileged educated blacks saw themselves as standing next in the line of the colonial pecking order.
His bourgeois background allowed him to excel in business, as the elected president of the Barbados Employers’ Federation (1978-81) and chief personnel officer and director of the Barbados Shipping and Trading Co Ltd (1980-91).
But as the Caribbean started on its bourgeois path the spectre of race was never far away, and the cricket team used this to carve their own defiant style of play. West Indian success during the 1970s and 1980s, when Walcott was selector and manager, was unprecedented.
It is a misfortune that the man who managed the West Indies to World Cup victories in 1975 and 1979 would not see the Caribbean hosting the tournament in 2007. He must have despaired at the decline of the team to which he gave so much, though he maintained a diplomatic public silence on the calamity. As the commentator Tony Cozier concluded in his obituary, his legacy deserved better.
Clyde Leopold Walcott was more than a mere cricketer - he spent most of his eighty years as a figurehead for the West Indies side. Walcott could do it all - he kept wicket for his first fifteen Tests, excelled with the bat, and claimed eleven Test wickets as a fast-medium change bowler. He was the first to score five centuries in a single Test series (1955 v Australia), and in an international career that spanned 12 years he averaged an impressive 56.68.
He will always be remembered as one of the ‘three W’s’ - the other two being Everton Weekes and Frank Worrell – who were born within a short distance of each other in Bridgetown, Barbados in a period of 18 months from August 1924 to January 1926. This remarkable triumvirate all made their Test cricket debut against England in 1948, and for the next ten years dominated West Indies batting.
Despite obvious leadership qualities, the West Indies captaincy remained the preserve of the white elite, and the best that Walcott achieved was the vice-captaincy in 1957.
After he finished playing he became coach, manager, administrator, president of the West Indies Cricket Board, and the first black man to chair the ICC.
His ascension replicated that of African-descendents in the Caribbean. The West Indies side was becoming increasingly democratised as a consequence of the anti-colonial movement’s inevitable progression to independence. Worrell would finally secure the captaincy of a black cricket team in 1960.
The Guyana team was traditionally recruited from among the Georgetown Cricket Club, which was the exclusive preserve of whites. Employed to coach players on the sugar plantations, Walcott helped unearth and groom players such as Rohan Kanhai, Basil Butcher and Joe Solomon. Joined by Roy Fredericks and Lance Gibbs, the Guyana cricket team advanced in unison with wider political developments.
If a consequence of race, Walcott was also a product of the nature of the class balances in the Caribbean. He was born into the black middle class, and like Worrell received an elite education. Many privileged educated blacks saw themselves as standing next in the line of the colonial pecking order.
His bourgeois background allowed him to excel in business, as the elected president of the Barbados Employers’ Federation (1978-81) and chief personnel officer and director of the Barbados Shipping and Trading Co Ltd (1980-91).
But as the Caribbean started on its bourgeois path the spectre of race was never far away, and the cricket team used this to carve their own defiant style of play. West Indian success during the 1970s and 1980s, when Walcott was selector and manager, was unprecedented.
It is a misfortune that the man who managed the West Indies to World Cup victories in 1975 and 1979 would not see the Caribbean hosting the tournament in 2007. He must have despaired at the decline of the team to which he gave so much, though he maintained a diplomatic public silence on the calamity. As the commentator Tony Cozier concluded in his obituary, his legacy deserved better.
Monday, August 21, 2006
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
In Praise of Twenty20
For most cricket fans the Test match is the truest form of the sport, and the one-day contest a mere variant. The one-day game embodies the worst excess of commercialism, with a plethora of meaningless contests, played with a priority to fill bank balances.
Logos dominate players’ shirts and equipment, the boundary edge, the umpires’ clothing, the competition they play for and even the hallowed turf. It is distressing but the 50-overs game has become at best predictable and stale, and at worst irrelevant. Strategies such as the floating power-play and the use of substitutions are designed to breathe new life so that the cash cow can continue to be milked.
The best innovation of late has been the Twenty20 competition, although I must declare an interest here. Being a supporter of Leicestershire is fraught with disappointment in all contests bar this one, where they are champions for the second time. This partisanship, however, does not cloud my view of this new format. I see it as one that can be a saviour for the domestic game and finally take international cricket beyond the so-called elite of eight teams.
The idea of the Twenty20 is to provide a contest that would last for about three hours in the early evening, so that it could be enjoyed by workers. In this way the format will be familiar to the club cricketer who plays in the midweek leagues.
Its popularity has staggered even the most optimistic of supporters. Aggregate crowds have grown year on year, and grounds such as Lord’s have sold out. Worcestershire's experience is typical. Whereas an average of 1,600 attended their matches in the old 50 overs competition, over 8,000 have attended their Twenty20 home games. Graham Gooch revealed on Test Match Special last week that one home Twenty20 game brought in the same revenue for Essex as three years worth of gate receipts for the County Championship.
Pleasingly, cricket is appealing to a newer audience. Research has shown that two-thirds of the first year’s attendees were under 34 and a quarter female. When Glamorgan qualified for the quarter-final in 2004, 80% of its ground was made up of non-members.
The format’s success has seen an international in Australia, against South Africa, attracting a record crowd of 38,894 to the Gabba. Domestic tournaments have started up in most of the major-playing countries, while a final in Pakistan last year attracted 35,000 spectators.
The shorter game proves a great leveller, and is cricket’s best opportunity to become global. Countries such as Bermuda, Malaysia, Thailand, and the United Arab Emirates have all expressed an interest in staging international tournaments. In the recent event in the Caribbean, both Nevis and Grenada made unlikely semi-finalists, then there is the unfashionable and relatively hard-up Leicester, who have made finals day each year.
The complaints about technique and the inability to build an innings, both to the ultimate detriment of Test cricket, have been made before, and the evidence has proved them wrong. Test cricket in this country is more popular today than it has been for a while, and maybe the Twenty20 will bring new fans and wanabee stars to the sport.
The one sticking-point is India, where the one-day contest generates huge profits for the Board. A shorter game reduces the breaks between innings and wickets and therefore the potential for advertising revenue, upsetting the forces of commercialism. What better reason to give this format your support?
Logos dominate players’ shirts and equipment, the boundary edge, the umpires’ clothing, the competition they play for and even the hallowed turf. It is distressing but the 50-overs game has become at best predictable and stale, and at worst irrelevant. Strategies such as the floating power-play and the use of substitutions are designed to breathe new life so that the cash cow can continue to be milked.
The best innovation of late has been the Twenty20 competition, although I must declare an interest here. Being a supporter of Leicestershire is fraught with disappointment in all contests bar this one, where they are champions for the second time. This partisanship, however, does not cloud my view of this new format. I see it as one that can be a saviour for the domestic game and finally take international cricket beyond the so-called elite of eight teams.
The idea of the Twenty20 is to provide a contest that would last for about three hours in the early evening, so that it could be enjoyed by workers. In this way the format will be familiar to the club cricketer who plays in the midweek leagues.
Its popularity has staggered even the most optimistic of supporters. Aggregate crowds have grown year on year, and grounds such as Lord’s have sold out. Worcestershire's experience is typical. Whereas an average of 1,600 attended their matches in the old 50 overs competition, over 8,000 have attended their Twenty20 home games. Graham Gooch revealed on Test Match Special last week that one home Twenty20 game brought in the same revenue for Essex as three years worth of gate receipts for the County Championship.
Pleasingly, cricket is appealing to a newer audience. Research has shown that two-thirds of the first year’s attendees were under 34 and a quarter female. When Glamorgan qualified for the quarter-final in 2004, 80% of its ground was made up of non-members.
The format’s success has seen an international in Australia, against South Africa, attracting a record crowd of 38,894 to the Gabba. Domestic tournaments have started up in most of the major-playing countries, while a final in Pakistan last year attracted 35,000 spectators.
The shorter game proves a great leveller, and is cricket’s best opportunity to become global. Countries such as Bermuda, Malaysia, Thailand, and the United Arab Emirates have all expressed an interest in staging international tournaments. In the recent event in the Caribbean, both Nevis and Grenada made unlikely semi-finalists, then there is the unfashionable and relatively hard-up Leicester, who have made finals day each year.
The complaints about technique and the inability to build an innings, both to the ultimate detriment of Test cricket, have been made before, and the evidence has proved them wrong. Test cricket in this country is more popular today than it has been for a while, and maybe the Twenty20 will bring new fans and wanabee stars to the sport.
The one sticking-point is India, where the one-day contest generates huge profits for the Board. A shorter game reduces the breaks between innings and wickets and therefore the potential for advertising revenue, upsetting the forces of commercialism. What better reason to give this format your support?
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