Again, it's another book I've wanted to read for years and (cheers Ek for the loan) now I finally have. It's fantastic.
What does a cricket coach actually do? Given that it's a game which is largely made up of individual performances, I guess you could be forgiven for expecting the coach's influence to be less influential than in rugby or football. But that barely, if at all, seems to be the case. For most English cricket followers the elaborate schemes of Fletcher and Vaughan are ingrained in our minds as much as any of Flintoff's performances in '05 - likewise, the former's pig-headedness is seen as having a significant role to play in our disastrous showing in '06. Wright points out that it might be the hardest coaching job in sport, because 'players need to be self-focused and motivated by individual goals in order to excel but also have to be able to put individual aspirations aside, pull their heads in and become good team men...like herding cats.'
Even so, how hard can it be to coach a side containing Tendulkar, Dravid, Laxman and Ganguly? 'Go out and bat,' is as far as you need to go, one might think. Wright's book puts that myth to bed. One of his first series in charge was the incredible 2001 home clash with Australia - you know, the one containing this ridiculously good innings:
281 following on - it turned the match, and the entire series, around. But Laxman was down to come in number six. It was Wright, having watched him bat with the tail in the first innings, who shifted him up to number three. It was also the series in which Harbhajhan Singh announced himself to the world. Wright it was who spotted him and, ignoring some (hardly unfair) comments on his temperament, put him in the team. He has some interesting methods when it comes to getting the most out of the team (disregarding grabbing Sehwag by the collar and screaming at him after he'd holed out) - it's a Socratic method, I guess. He prefers to ask questions rather than offer advice. If a player is falling over towards the leg side he asks them how they feel in terms of their balance. It's better, he feels, for them to work out their own technical problems and how to deal with them.
But it seems his job on the field was only the half of it. As he writes, he took over a dressing room containing Hindus, Muslims, Christians and Sikhs. Some of them were very religious, some less so. India has 22 official languages, and on any other day there could be eight languages spoken in the dressing room. The match managers are appointed on an annual basis so that the people in power can reward an association that has voted for them. Wright had a Member of Parliament, a banker, a doctor, the owner of a trucking firm, a civil servant, a professor of chemistry and a fighter pilot - all with varying levels of competence. Some were dissolute drinkers and smokers happy to be on a jolly, others were devout religious men who were determined to do their best.
The administrative system is quite unlike any other. Take the selection panel: there are 27 first-class teams in India, divided into five zones - north, south, east and central - and every year, each of the zones elects a selector to the panel. So a selector's tenure depends on keeping the powers-that-be, in and around the five or six states in his zone, happy. That means they're pressured to get representation of the players from their zones. Coach and captain have no say. The selectors end up strenuously arguing the case for players with no chance of getting selected (and making sure that the debates are leaked to the press). Discussions over the last four spots in the squad can take hours.
If that sounds like a recipe for arguments and corruption, it's nothing on what goes on within each zone. Around a third of the players are token selections from weaker teams who otherwise wouldn't be represented. In Delhi, the key word is 'approach', i.e. connections to officials or selectors. The best comment Wright heard was when he asked a group of players whether a batsman was making runs in the Ranji trophy: 'One of the boys just looked at me and said: "John, does he need any?"'
It's a wonder that the cream rises to the top at all. But one of the most fascinating bits of the book is when he talks about the sacrifices that the players have made in order to represent their country. Sachin played cricket for 55 days in a row during his summer holidays. He'd have an innings at Shivaji Park, then jump on the back of a scooter for another game in south Mumbai, then back to Shivaji Park for a two and a half hour net, finishing at 7pm. When he started to flag, his coach would put a one rupee coin on the middle stump - if he was dismissed, the bowler got it. If not, he kept it. Mohammad Kaif left his home town at the age of 12 to live in a sports hostel in Kanpur, where he did his own washing. Yuvraj Singh was woken at 5am by a glass of water to the face, so that he could practise on the concrete wicket his father had erected in the backyard.
These players have worked so hard to get to where they have, but as Wright explains, they are under incredibly strong and conflicting pressures. The ridiculously lucrative advertising deals and air of celebrity build them up, the relentless and often savage media coverage knocks them down. There are ten 24-hour news channels, three in English and seven in Hindi. Cricket shows are aired in prime time. One that ran in Wright's last season was called Match Ka Mujrim - 'Villain of the match'. Regardless of how well or badly they'd played, four members of the Indian team were in the dock. Bishen Bedi was chief prosecutor.
This might all sound a little negative. It's not supposed to. What really comes out of Wright's book is a deep and abiding love for the country and its people. I'd better quote this passage in full:
India...engages all your senses, but behind the clamour and bustle and colour and crush of humanity, there's a peace and serenity I haven't encountered elsewhere...As a child I was often taught that patience is a virtue, but I didn't really understand the meaning of that saying until I went to India. I saw grace under pressure from people for whom everyday life is a struggle, if not an exercise in survival....you see much that is admirable and uplifting: the emphasis on family, the humility, the spirituality, the grace and dignity in face of hardship. These were people you wanted to shed blood to do well for and who deserved a team which shed blood, sweat and tears. Going to India is like coming home. It touches something in you, leaves a mark and you forget what it is until you come back...Wherever I am and whatever I do, it will be reaching out to me, drawing me back.
What does a cricket coach actually do? Given that it's a game which is largely made up of individual performances, I guess you could be forgiven for expecting the coach's influence to be less influential than in rugby or football. But that barely, if at all, seems to be the case. For most English cricket followers the elaborate schemes of Fletcher and Vaughan are ingrained in our minds as much as any of Flintoff's performances in '05 - likewise, the former's pig-headedness is seen as having a significant role to play in our disastrous showing in '06. Wright points out that it might be the hardest coaching job in sport, because 'players need to be self-focused and motivated by individual goals in order to excel but also have to be able to put individual aspirations aside, pull their heads in and become good team men...like herding cats.'
Even so, how hard can it be to coach a side containing Tendulkar, Dravid, Laxman and Ganguly? 'Go out and bat,' is as far as you need to go, one might think. Wright's book puts that myth to bed. One of his first series in charge was the incredible 2001 home clash with Australia - you know, the one containing this ridiculously good innings:
281 following on - it turned the match, and the entire series, around. But Laxman was down to come in number six. It was Wright, having watched him bat with the tail in the first innings, who shifted him up to number three. It was also the series in which Harbhajhan Singh announced himself to the world. Wright it was who spotted him and, ignoring some (hardly unfair) comments on his temperament, put him in the team. He has some interesting methods when it comes to getting the most out of the team (disregarding grabbing Sehwag by the collar and screaming at him after he'd holed out) - it's a Socratic method, I guess. He prefers to ask questions rather than offer advice. If a player is falling over towards the leg side he asks them how they feel in terms of their balance. It's better, he feels, for them to work out their own technical problems and how to deal with them.
But it seems his job on the field was only the half of it. As he writes, he took over a dressing room containing Hindus, Muslims, Christians and Sikhs. Some of them were very religious, some less so. India has 22 official languages, and on any other day there could be eight languages spoken in the dressing room. The match managers are appointed on an annual basis so that the people in power can reward an association that has voted for them. Wright had a Member of Parliament, a banker, a doctor, the owner of a trucking firm, a civil servant, a professor of chemistry and a fighter pilot - all with varying levels of competence. Some were dissolute drinkers and smokers happy to be on a jolly, others were devout religious men who were determined to do their best.
The administrative system is quite unlike any other. Take the selection panel: there are 27 first-class teams in India, divided into five zones - north, south, east and central - and every year, each of the zones elects a selector to the panel. So a selector's tenure depends on keeping the powers-that-be, in and around the five or six states in his zone, happy. That means they're pressured to get representation of the players from their zones. Coach and captain have no say. The selectors end up strenuously arguing the case for players with no chance of getting selected (and making sure that the debates are leaked to the press). Discussions over the last four spots in the squad can take hours.
If that sounds like a recipe for arguments and corruption, it's nothing on what goes on within each zone. Around a third of the players are token selections from weaker teams who otherwise wouldn't be represented. In Delhi, the key word is 'approach', i.e. connections to officials or selectors. The best comment Wright heard was when he asked a group of players whether a batsman was making runs in the Ranji trophy: 'One of the boys just looked at me and said: "John, does he need any?"'
It's a wonder that the cream rises to the top at all. But one of the most fascinating bits of the book is when he talks about the sacrifices that the players have made in order to represent their country. Sachin played cricket for 55 days in a row during his summer holidays. He'd have an innings at Shivaji Park, then jump on the back of a scooter for another game in south Mumbai, then back to Shivaji Park for a two and a half hour net, finishing at 7pm. When he started to flag, his coach would put a one rupee coin on the middle stump - if he was dismissed, the bowler got it. If not, he kept it. Mohammad Kaif left his home town at the age of 12 to live in a sports hostel in Kanpur, where he did his own washing. Yuvraj Singh was woken at 5am by a glass of water to the face, so that he could practise on the concrete wicket his father had erected in the backyard.
These players have worked so hard to get to where they have, but as Wright explains, they are under incredibly strong and conflicting pressures. The ridiculously lucrative advertising deals and air of celebrity build them up, the relentless and often savage media coverage knocks them down. There are ten 24-hour news channels, three in English and seven in Hindi. Cricket shows are aired in prime time. One that ran in Wright's last season was called Match Ka Mujrim - 'Villain of the match'. Regardless of how well or badly they'd played, four members of the Indian team were in the dock. Bishen Bedi was chief prosecutor.
This might all sound a little negative. It's not supposed to. What really comes out of Wright's book is a deep and abiding love for the country and its people. I'd better quote this passage in full:
India...engages all your senses, but behind the clamour and bustle and colour and crush of humanity, there's a peace and serenity I haven't encountered elsewhere...As a child I was often taught that patience is a virtue, but I didn't really understand the meaning of that saying until I went to India. I saw grace under pressure from people for whom everyday life is a struggle, if not an exercise in survival....you see much that is admirable and uplifting: the emphasis on family, the humility, the spirituality, the grace and dignity in face of hardship. These were people you wanted to shed blood to do well for and who deserved a team which shed blood, sweat and tears. Going to India is like coming home. It touches something in you, leaves a mark and you forget what it is until you come back...Wherever I am and whatever I do, it will be reaching out to me, drawing me back.
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