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What happens in a batting collapse

Ian O'Brien in Cricinfo


The mood inside the dressing room turns sour, and batsmen forget to play the way they normally do. It doesn't have to be like that


Nerves are on edge as wickets tumble and it's your turn to bat next © Getty Images



An old cricketing cliché is proffered flippantly, often in times of despair, a psychological pick-me-up for one team, a reinforcement of the seriousness or severity of the situation for the other: "One brings two, guys. One brings two"

While statistically this adage is flippant, quantitatively it is obvious. You really do need the "one" to have the "two". But it is no more likely that two wickets will fall within 10 to 20 of each other than that one will fall as a singular event.

What happens when one does bring two? And then two brings three. And then…

The ill-fated, most feared and dreaded batting collapse.

What defines a collapse? For me, a basis of three top- to middle-order wickets falling collectively for less than 40 runs, and then concurrent dismissals within 10 and 15 runs of each other from that point forward. A minimum of 40 for 3 to anywhere around 70 for 5 and onwards. A dramatic, game-changing period of play.

What happens in the changing room? What happens to the changing room? How do players and coaches react? Not react? How do you deal with a collapse to limit its effect?

Typically a collapse will happen during a session, not either side of a break. There is no time to pause and reflect, no time to regather and regroup. No opportunity to take a breather in the middle of it to stem the tide. There is no chance to take the moment out of the moment.

It smothers you. All of a sudden there is no oxygen in the changing room, no chat, no communication. All the vibe and positivity, the entire atmosphere gone. Empty. A void.

Like waking in the night to a noise downstairs. The changing room is on edge, anxiety-ridden. You hear everything as if on high alert. Every sound amplified. The empty coffee mug gets put down - it wobbles on its base before settling. It's the noisiest thing ever done. Every movement is stifled. Very little eye contact. Players know they are in the middle of a collapse. The changing room door keeps opening and closing. And opening and closing. The sound of Velcro pulled apart rips through silence. A bat is placed gently down next to your seat. A glove is thrown into a bag, a helmet rolls off a bench and rattles to the floor. Muffled swear words, outward frustrations for personal failures.

The batsmen draw ranks. "Hard luck, mate. That [delivery] was a good one."

The bowlers, waiting to bat, also draw together. "I'm going to have to bat soon. I just f****n bowled. I've just done my job. We've got our wickets. I'm going to have to go out and bat. Show these boys how to bat." Angry bowlers. Aggrieved bowlers. "We'll be bowing again, way too soon. F*** you batsmen." It shouldn't be personal. It's not, but it is. It always is. It always will be.

One of the most deflating things to see is a batsman failing meekly. Apprehension has taken over. They have gone away from their style, their game plan, and their grace. Visibly shaken by the situation. Noticeably nervous and jerky movements have replaced their typically measured and flowing nature. Twitchy. Feeling. Scratchy. Groping. Poking.

And that is the psychology of the situation. Firstly focusing on stopping the crash, the collapse, then the head focuses on avoiding mistakes, somehow preventing failure: what not to do, and not, as on a normal day, on creating a head space where success is consummated.



Captains and coaches can seek to arrest the collapse by talking to the remaining batsmen about their preparation and the importance of playing naturally © Getty Images





I have never been in a changing room that has ever challenged a collapse; a changing room that has found a way of negotiating it and found a way out of the mire.

Can it be done? I think yes. But some batsmen, I think, are not going to like it.

There are a few things you don't do, typically, in a changing room. One of the more important ones is to not talk to the batsman who's next in, unless he initiates the conversation. You leave him in his bubble. Whatever he might be doing, let him do it. Whatever is ticking over in his head, let him be. Preparing in his own way. Some batsmen like to chat, nervously, about anything. Some sit and stew, contemplate. Others, a crossword, newspaper quiz, anything to not watch, not concentrate. Some don't even watch the game.

In the middle of a collapse the batsman next in doesn't get the opportunity to do any of those things. And this is where a coach or captain can step in. Once two wickets have fallen together quickly, things are a bit panicky, rushed. A coach or captain can (they currently usually don't) have a word with the batsmen, remind them of their processes, their preparation, their thought patterns. A good coach or captain should know how each player prepares.

A calming of the situation. Remove the apprehension. "Go and do your thing. Think about your things, your processes. Don't rush. Breathe."

This requires coaches and captains knowing their players and team-mates probably better than they currently do. It means having care and consideration, on both sides, and knowing that individual and team success may have to take a back seat to the player's "normal" preparation. Doing things differently. Teams talk about collapses, but only after they have happened.

Slow things down, add as much time to the preparation time a player has. Take the moment out of the moment.

To bat right, get your mind right

Footwork may be crucial to the batsman's art, but a mind rooted in the present moment is just as great a weapon

Martin Crowe in Cricinfo

March 20, 2014

Don Bradman: maintained a clear mind on his way to a mind-boggling batting average © Getty Images

Mind and body are undoubtedly connected, go hand in hand. I looked at the importance of footwork in batting last week; that leaves the more intangible, more controversial, mindwork to look at.

Of all the sports I have attempted to play - tennis, golf, rugby, soccer, and many others - the greatest challenge of all, I believe, is that of batting in cricket, where one ball can be enough to end the contest. One lousy ball.

It is this mental challenge of dealing with one ball at a time, knowing one mistake and it's over, that is the focus of this piece.

----Also by Martin Crowe

It's all down to the feet - The cornerstone of batting technique is foot position and movement

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When it comes to batting, which is based on reacting to the release of a ball by a bowler, the mind is on full alert. At the moment the ball is released, the eyes start feeding the brain, which then directs the body to respond, all in a split second.

Succeeding at Test cricket over a reasonable period is not a thing you can fluke. Realistically, at some stage in a career, the batting mind-body challenge will get you. It can play with your thinking, and mess with your responses, resulting in a failure to move properly causing the runs to dry up.

I will assess the mindsets of two batsmen I have studied over time - Don Bradman and Sachin Tendulkar, two positive examples - and my own.

Bradman had the greatest record and legacy of all batsmen. His footwork became legendary and influential for generations to come, but it was surely his mind and his ability to clear his thoughts away that was his greatest attribute. Bradman, there is no doubt, became a misunderstood human being, especially by team-mates who stood shoulder to shoulder with him. They couldn't work out the mechanics of his mind, nor his beliefs and ability to perform beyond the norm, and some of them became envious of his record-breaking run-making.

Bradman was brought up in rural New South Wales, where much of his upbringing was spent playing out by the back of the house, on his own, hitting a golf ball against a water tank with a single stump. When he joined the higher ranks at a young age, he took with him a single-mindedness and a natural naivete. As he began to taste more worldly experiences on his travels, his mind stayed true to his dreams. He only wanted to bat. And the only way he knew how to do that was to trust his conditioning, his beliefs and his thoughts. He saw the ball and moved accordingly.

Bradman was a private, single-minded man. He didn't drink, smoke, or really socialise much during his playing days, unlike those he played with. He was different and he quickly became alienated due to his unexampled existence.

In a recent address at Lord's, his son John shared writings from his father's diary, in particular to do with the first few weeks of the 1930 England tour, when Bradman played outside Australia for the first time. After a long boat trip, during which he often lay sick in his bed, he stepped out on to the Nursery at Lord's to prepare for the long five-month tour.

Bradman had only a couple of nets to acclimatise before walking out to bat in Worcester for the opening match. In fresh, green, bowler-friendly conditions, he scored 236 in under five hours. For a 21-year-old it was an extraordinary innings, given it was his first outside of his homeland. It was a clear precursor to the mesmeric run of form to come throughout that unprecedented summer. In essence, no matter what the conditions, his thinking was sharp and focused; he saw the ball, reacted and moved accordingly, and that fearless mindset never left him. For one with no experience whatsoever in foreign conditions, it was a breathtaking performance.

Despite the accolades and the expectation that grew from innings to innings, Bradman remained grounded and resilient. He never deviated from the original day-to-day thinking of his upbringing. He was not tempted to break out and let his hair down, on or off the field; instead, much to the annoyance of some of his more outgoing team-mates, he kept his eye on the ball. No innings meant more than the one he was about to play, no matter the size of the last score he had made. Unemotionally he moved from one match to the next with a consistent hunger to express his art. It was unrivalled thinking.

Bradman prepared for matches by attending musical shows. His favourite to watch was opera singer Dame Nellie Melba. The night before his monumental 254 in the second Test on that tour, at Lord's, in his words the greatest innings of his life, he was inspired by Dame Nellie's performance. For Don, it appeared music and cricket went together; the footwork his movement to the beat. He danced at the crease like no other, because in his mind he heard the sound of the moment. It steadied him mentally for the body to exert wondrous movement.

	Fear of getting out is really an illusion, a negative thought with feeling added to it, about past failures and / or future ones. It needn't be there at all. The fact is, you will get out, so there is no need to fear it

Bradman had the advantage of only playing in two countries throughout his Test career, England and Australia. It meant he never had the mental and physical burden of travelling and coping, especially with problems to do with health, in more foreign lands. His overall average would have dropped perhaps a little, had he played in more places, but probably not by much. The point is that he stuck to his beliefs, he maintained a clear mind, and even at the age of 40 his mental aptitude was astonishing as it adjusted to the natural slowing down of a body and an immune system that had been tested enough. Only Bodyline in 1932-33 affected his psyche somewhat, as it actually threatened life and limb. Without question, Bradman had the greatest mind of them all.

Next to him on that scale would be Tendulkar. To endure 24 years, in all parts of the globe, against all measure of bowlers, under epic expectations, with the distraction of three different formats, required a mind that simply had to be strong and resilient to succeed. He never buckled for any period. Sure, he had rare moments of despair, but the quickness with which he bounced back with a clear mind, fleet of foot, to notch another century, was his hallmark.

Tendulkar, from the age of 16, spent his first 21 Tests playing away from home, bar one. He learnt quickly to absorb and adjust, and cement a mindset that would serve him unwaveringly for a staggeringly long time.

Expectation gone wrong is a mind-killer. The adoration he received on a daily basis would have worn him down at times, yet he always responded with a smile, a graciousness, a humility pure and natural. His mind, from an early age, was fuelled with love for the game, love for his father's wisdom and advice, and his thoughts flowed with positivity and assuredness. If you wondered how he played so calmly, so fluently and so straight, given the weight of expectation, it was because his mind never strayed from the humility he breathed, and the mindfulness, that acute awareness, of where his genius came from. Tendulkar was a centred soul, spiritually aligned, and he breathed a tranquility and stillness, a trait displayed by the wise sages.

From my own perspective, my mind was often filled with thoughts, coupled with underdeveloped emotions. It wasn't a great mix in which to take on the art of batting at the top level. My footwork was sure and a priority, yet I quickly realised that footwork and mindwork go hand in glove. I needed some mental crutches and so I sought out the new phenomenon of sports psychology to deal with an overflow of desultory musing.

I learnt techniques of visualisation, of playing the future out in the mind first, using pictures. I learnt concentration - turning on and off to conserve energy, and encouraging a fierce focus for each ball for five-second periods. I tried removing negatives with Bruce Lee tips, imagined screwing an imaginary piece of paper up with my hand, tried to stay in the now by activating one of the five senses in between balls.

Most of all, I learnt to repeat affirmations one after the other ("Head still, head still, watch the ball, watch the ball"), slowly and deliberately, to block out any unforeseen random thought ("What if I get out?") that might jump into my head and trip me up again. Yet using these techniques was akin to a lost man trying to find his way to safety.

I learnt to remove emotion, by forcing my body language so strongly as to bluff the opposition that I was "on" on any given day, in the zone. Faking it until I made it helped overcome confidence lapses. I sought help from those who could help me calm down. I never engaged in gamesmanship, in sledging.

Overall, the mindwork I did proved exhausting - having to disguise a contaminated flow of thoughts. Not surprisingly, the lack of natural positive thinking, of authenticity, got me in the end. Ten years of "performed" mind control was my limit.

The key, from what I have learnt, from what I now believe, is that no matter your experiences and circumstances, your reality is in the present moment - what you are living in the feeling of your thinking in the present moment. That's your truest reality. It is not the memory of what went before, or the concern of what may come in the future, that is real. In batting, it is the clear-minded thinking of watching and moving to the present ball being bowled that is real.

I realise also that visualisation worked only when I was truly in the moment of seeing images of me thinking and batting positively. It prepared me for the event to come. When it came together, like at Lord's in 1994, when I was well prepared from visualising positively, then I easily settled into thinking and batting positively in the present. It worked, but it couldn't be sustained.

Fear of getting out is really an illusion, a negative thought with feeling added to it, about past failures and / or future ones. It needn't be there at all. The fact is, you will get out, so there is no need to fear it; simply delay the inevitable for as long as possible.

You can succeed if you clear away everything that's not to do with the present moment, the next ball, if you remove old baggage or concern about what might happen in time. Just think about watching the ball leave the bowler's hand. That's it.

Simplicity.

That is what Bradman and Tendulkar did. During their teenage years they developed a resilience about keeping their minds present and consistent. That age is a key time of one's thought development. They mastered the moments. They didn't get confused. They went from one ball to the other, one match to another, exploring its possibility and expressing their own potential, and that's why they went on and on at such a high level.

Perhaps Mahatma Gandhi says it best. "A man is but the product of his thoughts. What he thinks, he becomes."

Cricket - Dhoni and the revelation that at first wasn’t noticed

MAKARAND WAINGANKAR in the hindu

  

APDhoni’s success did not come overnight. Nor was his selection in the Indian team a fluke.

 

Watching Mahendra Singh Dhoni’s career graph can make any one believe in miracles. The man with the Midas touch has been a revelation to experts ever since he arrived on the scene.

Dhoni’s success did not come overnight. Nor was his selection in the Indian team a fluke. He had been playing the Ranji Trophy for Bihar from 2000. But where Dhoni’s fate was different from that of others like him was the introduction of the Talent Resource Development Wing (TRDW) of the BCCI. No one noticed talent in his zone, which tended to promote players from one state, something the then selection committee chairman Kiran More objected to.

TRD officers P.C. Podar and Raju Mukherjee were scavenging for talent, hopping from one match to another in Jamshedpur during the Ranji one-dayers in 2003-04.

They came across a 22-year-old opener who was whacking bowlers all over the place. They promptly fed their assessments on the National Cricket Academy website and the chief TRDO Dilip Vengsarkar strongly recommended Dhoni for the India ‘A’ tour of Kenya.

MUST THANK HIS STARS

Within a year, Dhoni was in the Indian team to Bangladesh. Everything said and done, Dhoni has to thank his lucky stars for getting noticed in the first place.

He was fortunate that Vengsarkar’s recommendations were accepted by More’s selection committee.

More, being a wicketkeeper himself, wasn’t happy initially with Dhoni’s keeping abilities but every decision maker felt that Dhoni was a special talent. Dhoni gave the impression that he enjoyed pressure situations.

In an interview in Dr. Rudi Webster’s book, ‘Think Like a Champion’, Dhoni says, “I see pressure as an opportunity to do well. If you are under pressure you should not see it as a danger and give in to it.

DEALING WITH PRESSURE

“People say a lot of negative things about pressure. Pressure to me is just an added responsibility.

That is how I look at it. It’s not pressure when God gives you an opportunity to be a hero for your team and country.

“If you expect pressure and have a plan to deal with it you will know exactly what to do when it comes, and more often than not you will use it in a positive and productive way.

“The best way to deal with it is to stay in the moment and not get trapped in the past or caught up in the future on the result or on what might happen.

If you stay in the moment, calm your mind and focus on the process you won’t feel much pressure.”

The way Dhoni plays in the death overs is a mystery beyond explanation but these words of his certainly unravel some secrets. Webster’s book deals with many interviews of V.V.S. Laxman, Rahul Dravid, Sir Garfield Sobers and Greg Chappell.

It focuses on the psychological aspects of cricket, which is often referred to as “mental strength”.

Dhoni is candid in admitting that his technique isn’t of international standard. However, a glance at his performance (11567 international runs, 424 catches and 111 stumpings) shows that he has done what many great technicians of the game haven’t. To him, performance counts.

Technique is important of course, but Dhoni isn’t the kind to be a slave to technique.

The psychological aspect of the game that he emphasises should be an eye opener for people who are stuck with the baggage of technique.

Technique without performance is worthless; it can be at best used for technical comparison and nothing else.