You know That Guy. You can't bowl to That Guy. He makes 150 in a 35 over game, and doesn't once play and miss. You bowl line and length with long on and long off out and he just keeps clearing them. You give him any width and it pings through the covers like a tracer bullet. He's usually a massive bugger as well, That Guy, so he never hits it in the air because he's always on top of the bounce. Every so often you get the line and length absolutely spot on, and That Guy pats it back down the pitch to you, which feels quite patronising because you know he could hit you for another massive six if he really wanted, he just wants to show he appreciates your efforts. The massive twat.
Everyone hates bowling at That Guy.
I've come up against That Guy eight times. Three times, That Guy would go on to play for England, which gives me a better ratio than most Crap Cricketers in the claim-to-fame stakes. It's the other five times that interest me. Those five players, I and mutual acquaintances agree, were as good as if not better than the three players who ended up international superstars. What happened? Injury and the decision to try and be pro at other sports accounted for three of them. I don't actually know what happened to one of them. But I know what happened to the other one, who was called Mike.
Mike played for my club. He was absolutely fucking a-maz-ing. I remain utterly convinced he's the best batsman I've ever bowled to, better than a guy who now averages plenty in Tests. Former tormentor of every school attack in the area, he averaged 100+ in the top league he could play where all sorts of county seconds and ex-pros are knocking around. Scored loads of runs for our County's Second XI. Finally the day came when he'd make his debut for the county. With bated breath, our team are sitting around Ceefax in the club house to see how he gets on. The scorecard comes up, and we're all rather puzzled. Mike's been put in the order at number eight.
Now, I'd had a lot of net sessions with Mike. I loved bowling at him, and would beg him for another ten minutes every time the session was over - you got the thrill of bowling at an amazing batsman without the pang of guilt that comes from watching your team mates have to retrieve the ball from a hedgerow several miles away. The challenge was considerable. My stock ball, assuming I landed it on a perfect line and length, would go for four, more often than not.
If I didn't want to get hit for four, I had to vary every delivery - take some pace off, add some pace on, cut it, try and swing it against my usual direction. Then only half of them would go for four. Partly this was due to me being somewhat pedestrian compared to most bowlers he faced, and partly it was due to the fact that it was just how he batted, whoever he was facing. It meant I used to get him out every now and again. A typical Crap Cricketer/Mike net session would probably see Mike dismissed for about 75, made off something like 20 balls. Yes, fuck off. I'd take a first class bowling average of 75, even if it is coming at an economy rate of 20 an over. Back in the 90s it probably would have got me into the England ODI side.
An amazing batsman. But a bowler? Well, he was big and strong and had a nice action, but even this Crap Cricketer didn't find him unplayable. It was very good, good enough that he could play for the club as a bowler had he been unable to bat, but it was quite clearly a hobby. The problem was that our county, at the time, had a lot of good batsmen. Mike was in direct competition for a place with someone who'd just been discarded by England. What it needed was an all-rounder. And that's what Mike had been instructed to become.
But the way you make your name in the professional game is usually through One Day cricket. It's rather hard to do that as a batsman from number eight. Mike tried as hard as he could with his bowling, but it just wasn't good enough. On the rare occasions he did get to play a four day game - as a batsman - there was so much pressure (he was only ever in the side through injury) that he became a totally different player. Suddenly he was playing with caution, and he wasn't getting many runs. It was tortuous for all of us at the club. I should have mentioned he was also a lovely bloke - always full of encouragement for every player, however hopeless they might be.
One glorious day at the end of a season (pressure off) he struck 150 against Middlesex, I think. This was the inevitable breakthrough, we all assumed. But the next year there he was again, drifting around 7 or 8 in the order and being relied on to bowl eight not-very-effective overs on a Sunday. Finally, the county discarded him.
Ultimately, of course, it's Mike's fault he didn't succeed. But professional sport is a business. The county is paying you for a service it requires. An all-rounder made economic sense. Another good batsman didn't. Behind the success stories there are all sorts of nasty little tales like this - people who've given up everything in pursuit of a career, who in a different time and place would easily have made it. So next time That Guy smashes you for six, don't get bitter. Nor when he does it the next time. After all, you've always got a chance.
Everyone hates bowling at That Guy.
I've come up against That Guy eight times. Three times, That Guy would go on to play for England, which gives me a better ratio than most Crap Cricketers in the claim-to-fame stakes. It's the other five times that interest me. Those five players, I and mutual acquaintances agree, were as good as if not better than the three players who ended up international superstars. What happened? Injury and the decision to try and be pro at other sports accounted for three of them. I don't actually know what happened to one of them. But I know what happened to the other one, who was called Mike.
Mike played for my club. He was absolutely fucking a-maz-ing. I remain utterly convinced he's the best batsman I've ever bowled to, better than a guy who now averages plenty in Tests. Former tormentor of every school attack in the area, he averaged 100+ in the top league he could play where all sorts of county seconds and ex-pros are knocking around. Scored loads of runs for our County's Second XI. Finally the day came when he'd make his debut for the county. With bated breath, our team are sitting around Ceefax in the club house to see how he gets on. The scorecard comes up, and we're all rather puzzled. Mike's been put in the order at number eight.
Now, I'd had a lot of net sessions with Mike. I loved bowling at him, and would beg him for another ten minutes every time the session was over - you got the thrill of bowling at an amazing batsman without the pang of guilt that comes from watching your team mates have to retrieve the ball from a hedgerow several miles away. The challenge was considerable. My stock ball, assuming I landed it on a perfect line and length, would go for four, more often than not.
If I didn't want to get hit for four, I had to vary every delivery - take some pace off, add some pace on, cut it, try and swing it against my usual direction. Then only half of them would go for four. Partly this was due to me being somewhat pedestrian compared to most bowlers he faced, and partly it was due to the fact that it was just how he batted, whoever he was facing. It meant I used to get him out every now and again. A typical Crap Cricketer/Mike net session would probably see Mike dismissed for about 75, made off something like 20 balls. Yes, fuck off. I'd take a first class bowling average of 75, even if it is coming at an economy rate of 20 an over. Back in the 90s it probably would have got me into the England ODI side.
An amazing batsman. But a bowler? Well, he was big and strong and had a nice action, but even this Crap Cricketer didn't find him unplayable. It was very good, good enough that he could play for the club as a bowler had he been unable to bat, but it was quite clearly a hobby. The problem was that our county, at the time, had a lot of good batsmen. Mike was in direct competition for a place with someone who'd just been discarded by England. What it needed was an all-rounder. And that's what Mike had been instructed to become.
But the way you make your name in the professional game is usually through One Day cricket. It's rather hard to do that as a batsman from number eight. Mike tried as hard as he could with his bowling, but it just wasn't good enough. On the rare occasions he did get to play a four day game - as a batsman - there was so much pressure (he was only ever in the side through injury) that he became a totally different player. Suddenly he was playing with caution, and he wasn't getting many runs. It was tortuous for all of us at the club. I should have mentioned he was also a lovely bloke - always full of encouragement for every player, however hopeless they might be.
One glorious day at the end of a season (pressure off) he struck 150 against Middlesex, I think. This was the inevitable breakthrough, we all assumed. But the next year there he was again, drifting around 7 or 8 in the order and being relied on to bowl eight not-very-effective overs on a Sunday. Finally, the county discarded him.
Ultimately, of course, it's Mike's fault he didn't succeed. But professional sport is a business. The county is paying you for a service it requires. An all-rounder made economic sense. Another good batsman didn't. Behind the success stories there are all sorts of nasty little tales like this - people who've given up everything in pursuit of a career, who in a different time and place would easily have made it. So next time That Guy smashes you for six, don't get bitter. Nor when he does it the next time. After all, you've always got a chance.
Am I That Guy?
ReplyDeleteEmphatically.
ReplyDeleteGood peice, on a rarely mentioned issue. I was chatting to a spinner who had been on Notts books last season, who suffered a similar fate: he was told to turn himself into an allrounder due to Notts pletora of spinners. Like your friend, he wasn't able to, and was dropped.
ReplyDeleteI think the Unicorns were introduced to address the problem. A drafting or transfer system may be helpful too.
JH
Superb. I've now got to go away and work out who you were writing about.
ReplyDeleteIf it helps, I think I can safely tell you he was based at Hants. And actually this story has a happy ending - since writing the piece I've discovered a cricket based venture of his for children has taken off..
ReplyDelete