The first thing to mention is that it's as badly-written as you might expect. Mr Lehmann, who's not shy of mentioning the fact that he didn't exactly put in the hours in the classroom with quite as much diligence as he did on the sports field, appears to have dispensed with a ghost writer and elected to tell his own story. Or at least I hope he has - if he hasn't the publisher's been employing a borderline illiterate.
But a badly-written book isn't as terrible a thing as it sounds. The voice we're reading is authentic. There are obvious problems with it - for instance, there's a bit at the end where he discusses his tactics against Muralitharan and how he changed his guard every ball to throw him off-line. It's fascinating, and we'd love to hear more of this kind of stuff, but the overwhelming bulk of his innings are described thus: "I was pleased to make 50; X was bowling really fast." Lehmann has the classic sportsman's problem of just simply being able to do, rather than describe, most of the extraordinary things of which he's capable. And he's not a guy who's big on introspection at the best of times - in the spirit of Adam Gilchrist's foreword, he's a typical larrikin who likes a beer, a fag, and watching his Aussie Rules. He just happens to be really good at cricket. He talks about how, when he fails, it's because of pressure 'not letting me bat how I normally do', but he barely describes what that normal manner is or how it's changed.
If Lehmann's near-muteness on his own input into games gets annoying, he makes up for it with the way he recounts everything around them, and his preoccupation with everyone else's performances is charmingly humble. The book really takes off when he gets into the Australian team. He's fascinating on the people around him. He was on the fringes of one of the most remarkable sports sides in history. Some of the stories he has are stunning. Shane Warne's cricket brain has never failed to amaze me, but did you know that on the night before this famous incident he told the team not to be too quick to walk if Gibbs caught the ball because he often didn't look like he had it under control before he threw it up to celebrate? Apparently the rest of the squad laughed it off.
Even more extraordinary, Steve Waugh didn't actually tell Gibbs he'd dropped the World Cup - he told him he'd lost the game. If that doesn't sound so ballsy, contemplate this: the Aussies needed 120 runs at 6 an over for almost the entire second half of their innings. Waugh, hardly the most natural of one-day dashers by that stage in his career and a man who'd been struggling of late, finished with a brilliant unbeaten ton.
He talks also about the Shane Warne drug scandal. I don't think many of us believed at the time that he was trying to enhance his performance - as Lehmann points out, such drugs can't be used to sustain an improvement over six hours of play. His description of Warne addressing the team shows the remarkable bubble within which Test players are forced to live. Everything they do - on field and off - is so closely monitored that the dressing room becomes a sanctuary. Warne breaks down in tears, and has to run out. He describes the faces in the room as 'shattered'. Ricky Ponting - a man so often vilified as a captain - immediately addresses them to say they still have the best team in the tournament.
In this current Aussie test side I think it's a reasonable claim that Lehmann would be their best player. But like so many others - Stuart Law the most glaring case - he didn't even play 30 Tests. It's to his credit he doesn't show any bitterness. In fact he concentrates on why the players around him - for opposition or country - are so talented. To him batting is an extension of personality. Langer is hyperactive, bouncing around the dressing room, while Hayden locks himself away in a separate room like a gladiator going out to war. It's Shoaib Akhtar that brings the best out of him: Hayden is prone to letting balls hit him, telling him he's not bowling fast enough. It's a mindset that Lehmann - a man who was knocked unconscious in only his second first class game - can't comprehend. Martyn is neat and organised in everything he does. Mark Waugh is as laid back as he appeared at the crease, forcing himself to read the paper so he doesn't fall asleep while waiting to bat. His strongest praise is reserved for Gilchrist and Warne - two players who redefined their roles in Test cricket. Of Warne, he makes the telling analysis that he became an even better bowler when he lost some of his natural talent (the huge-spinning stock ball), and had to work on variations.
But perhaps the most interesting bit of the book is when Lehmann talks about an episode that came to define his career. During an ODI against Sri Lanka, he wasn't batting well and finally ended up run out. Upon getting back to the team dressing room, he threw his toys out of the pram. He says in the book that there was no real reason - there wasn't any needle between the sides, and Australia were winning comfortably. During his tantrum he uttered 'those two words.' (He called the opposition 'black cunts'). The Sri Lankan team manager was outside and overheard him. He complained to the Australian management. Lehmann went straight to him and apologised. He then entered the Sri Lankan team dressing room, explained what he'd done and apologised once more. Several of them shook his hand and thanked him for his honesty.
The match referee, Clive Lloyd, summoned Lehmann to his office, along with the Australian and Sri Lankan team manager. The Sri Lankan team manager said that it was clear Lehmann had not been seeking to offend anyone, and that his apology had been contrite and near-instantaneous. Lloyd gave Lehmann a severe reprimand, and the business was concluded in-house.
Except it wasn't. A journalist had somehow found out about the incident, and it made its way onto the Internet. Within a short space of time, the ICC had organised a full tribunal. Lehmann was vilified by the media. He attended the tribunal which, as he points out, is an odd process - a full legal process except the man presiding over it is not a judge or indeed any kind of legal expert. For Lehmann's case, the presiding officer was in fact the same man who'd given him a slap on the wrist back at the ground: Clive Lloyd. This time he received a six-match ban.
One would never condone the words Lehmann uttered, and he has nothing but regret for what he said. The fact he said it in the privacy of the team dressing room and that it wasn't addressed to anyone isn't much of an excuse. But I do think there's cause for a little sympathy. It seems hypocritical that the ICC representative's decision at the time should be over-ridden simply because the issue became public. As Lehmann points out, if he'd denied saying anything, it would have been his word against theirs, and they could have taken no action. Now again claiming you could have done the morally wrong thing isn't much of a defence, but one can see why he might have been annoyed after his first game back. During the Australian innings Adam Gilchrist marched over to the square leg umpire to complain that Rashid Latif had just called him a 'white cunt'. Latif denied it and no action was taken. I'm going to stick my neck out here and say that, judging by their respective conducts on the field, I'm more inclined to believe Gilchrist.
Like the dressing-room argument, it certainly doesn't excuse a disgusting act. And Lehmann doesn't ask for that - as he says, all he can do is apologise. He received a suitable punishment - and what is punishment without forgiveness? Whatever you may think, time has healed this issue: he is currently a successful IPL coach.
Probably the most interesting question is why he said those words at all. He can't explain. As he says: 'I don't see people as black and white - only as good or bad.' There's enough of a philosophical distinction there to keep Aristotle happy for weeks, but if we skirt round that, there's still an interesting question as to why he lost control in such a way. Cricket is a very strange game in that regard. My biggest dummy-spitting episode in recent years was after a decision which, in retrospect, was probably out. I've no idea why I was so annoyed at the time - I'd received far worse, and it was a particularly unimportant and friendly game. I still can't really explain my tantrum - like Lehmann, I was batting badly, and quite annoyed with myself. The concentration required to bat well evidently takes a toll on other parts of one's personality.
Anyway, that's the book. Probably not worth reading, especially now I've done it for you. Next week: CLR James. Slightly different.
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