The incredibly malleable spirit of cricket

Ed Smith in Cricinfo

	Ian Bell was out in the Trent Bridge Test against India in 2011... until he wasn't © PA Photos  Enlarge

Two British satirists, the late John Fortune and John Bird, mastered the art of explaining slippery subjects through humour. They would take a major news story and apparently merely knock it about in a light, spontaneous chat on TV. But their mischievous dialogues often took us closer to the heart of the matter than acres of self-important newsprint. (Here they are in a famous sketch from 2007 about the financial crisis)

How I would have loved them to address cricket's confusion about the "spirit of cricket". The old controversy was reignited this month when Sri Lanka "Mankaded" Jos Buttler. In the spirit of admiration rather than emulation, in this piece I imagine a conversation between the two great satirists, reflecting on Mankading and cricket's odd attitudes towards morality...

"So what is it, this spirit of cricket thing? Presumably it's about behaving with dignity out on the pitch and that kind of stuff?"

"Oh no, not really. Most players can get away with swearing at each other non-stop for five days without contravening the spirit of cricket. We don't get involved morally at that level. Better to turn a blind eye."

"You mean sledging - that's the right term isn't it? - does not contravene the spirit of cricket?"

"Not really. No, cricket tends to celebrate verbal abuse as "banter", even though it's very rarely funny. Let's put it this way. If someone sledges you all day in a Test match, the correct response in modern cricket is to go up to him at the end of play and say, "I loved the way you showed real passion about playing for your country, you seem like a champion cricketer, can I buy you a drink, as I'm sure you're a great bloke off the pitch."

"So the appropriate response to someone calling you a "f****** ****" for seven hours is to say, 'Thanks, can I buy you a beer?'"

"Exactly."

"Now I'm confused. So abusing someone who is simply doing his job is fine. But when an opponent performs a run-out, entirely within the laws of the game, he has broken the spirit of cricket, and the crowd starts booing and the whole occasion is apparently demeaned?"

"You are beginning to understand how the phrase "spirit of cricket" can be thrown around."

"But what could Sri Lanka have done to avoid the Mankading? Other than the threat of a Mankad, there's no other way of preventing a batsman setting off for a run from an advanced position is there?"

"Not really."

"And I suppose, in the heat of battle in elite sport, no one offers warnings before acting within the laws, do they?"

"Well, actually Sri Lanka offered two warnings."

"So they offered two warnings to an opponent who was - deliberately or, in this instance, accidentally - gaining an illegal advantage, and yet they still broke the spirit of cricket?"

"According to lots of people, yes."

	Everything up to and including my actions are "within the spirit of cricket". Anything I don't like about the actions of other players is "against the spirit of cricket"

"So if acting within the laws is against the spirit of cricket, what does upholding the spirit of cricket look like?"

"It's about not taking advantage of the fact that a man can lose his mind immediately before eating a slice of cake."

"I'm sorry, you've lost me."

"Back in 2011, poor Ian Bell offered a plea of temporary insanity brought about by the immediate temptation of a slice of cake. The 'spirit of cricket' jury gave him a reprieve, effectively a second life as a batsman."

"You're joking, right?"

"Deadly serious. Ian Bell made a brilliant hundred at Trent Bridge against India. But after the last ball before tea, he lapsed in concentration and assumed that the ball had crossed the boundary when in fact it hadn't. As he sauntered off for tea, the Indian team dislodged the bails, and Bell was run out. That is indeed out, according to the laws. But after an English delegation went to the Indian dressing room to complain, India retracted their appeal.

"That is, they invited Bell to bat again. Not because he wasn't out, but because they now realised that the prospect of tea had clearly clouded Bell's mind. Pundits agreed that everyone had behaved superbly. After all, how could a man be expected to remember the laws of the game when he can already sniff the aroma of chocolate cake in his nostrils?"

"This spirit of cricket is incredibly complex and malleable, isn't it? It looks as though you can explain or condemn almost anything using the rhetoric of the spirit of cricket."

"Exactly. That's the magic of it. It's all about not crossing a line."

"Whose line?"

"My line."

"What do you mean your line?"

"Everything up to and including my actions are 'within the spirit of cricket'. Anything I don't like about the actions of other players is 'against the spirit of cricket'."

"So it's possible for two people to argue for hours about someone 'crossing the line' without anyone knowing what or where the line is?"

"Exactly. That's the brilliance of the idea."

"Let's go back to the Mankading controversy. Wasn't there some background controversy about the bowling action of Senanayake, the bowler who performed the Mankading?"

"Senanayake's action has been reported as suspicious by several officials - i.e. it may be deemed a throw rather than a bowl. He will have to go to Cardiff to have his action specially filmed and analysed to see if it is legal after all."

"But isn't there a risk, when spin bowlers have to attend special testing, that they will simply bowl with a slightly different and 'more legal' action during the forensic examination?"

"What do you mean 'risk'? Basically, almost everyone who is tested eventually gets cleared. Think of the whole thing as a cooling off process."

"But what about the bowlers who don't have questionable actions? Aren't they placed at an unfair disadvantage by having to bowl in the traditional manner?"

"What do you think this is, a charity? This is cut-throat, elite sport. There is no room for sentimentality."

"Except the spirit of cricket?"

"Except for that, of course."

-------

The Economist on Mankading

THERE was a controversial incident during England’s one day international (ODI) against Sri Lanka at Edgbaston last night. Sachithra Senanayake, a Sri Lankan bowler, ran out Jos Buttler, England’s best ODI batsman on current form, while he was backing up (pictured). In other words, as Mr Senanayake ran in to bowl, Mr Buttler wandered down the wicket to make it easier to complete a quick run. Having spotted this (and apparently having already warned Mr Buttler twice), Mr Senanayake stopped in his delivery stride, removed the bails and appealed for the run-out. Despite having the opportunity to withdraw the appeal, Angelo Mathews, Sri Lanka's captain, backed his bowler and Mr Buttler was given out.

“Mankading”, as it is known, named after Vinoo Mankad, an early proponent of the art, highlights an interesting divide. By and large it is frowned upon by professional players. Alastair Cook, England’s captain, described the incident as “a pretty poor act”, adding, apparently without irony, “there is a line and I think that line was crossed tonight.” Backing up as the bowler approaches, pros argue, has long been an accepted part of the game. As with many de facto sporting rules (which might also include footballers returning the ball to the opposition when a player is injured or the "neighbourhood play" in baseball, in which umpires will call a runner out so long as the fielder's foot is in the general vicinity of the bag) a team allows opposing batsmen to get away with it because they expect to be granted the same courtesy themselves. In this sense, they are entitled to be angry when the unwritten code is breached. Certainly, Mr Matthews could have few complaints were he now to be run-out in a similar fashion. Indeed, it is classic game theory on his part: weighing up the short-term benefit of disrupting a stable equilibrium against the long-term consequences of retaliation in kind.

But judging by others’ reaction to the incident, non-professionals (including your correspondent) see nothing wrong with Mankading. Stealing a few yards before the bowler has released the ball is gaining an unfair advantage. Put-upon bowlers, who have watched as the game has been skewed further and further in favour of batsmen, have every right to call them out on it. What is more, their right to do so is enshrined in the laws of the game, which state: "The bowler is permitted, before releasing the ball and provided he has not completed his usual delivery swing, to attempt to run out the non-striker."

Nonetheless, abiding by rules is not the same as acting in a right-minded way. Thepreamble to the laws of the game say cricket "should be played not only within its Laws but also within the Spirit of the Game". But who are the guardians of ethical norms in sport? It increasingly seems as if the principles of professional players are accepted, de facto, as correct. And they have judged that Mankading is not permissible but, for example, appealing for an LBW decision when the bowler knows the ball to be missing the stumps is. It is the same in other sports. In football, pundits talk, in pseudo-moralistic terms, about strikers having “every right to go down” when they sense the merest contact from an opponent in the penalty box. The moral imperative, they seem to argue, lies with the defender not to touch the attacker, rather than on the attacker not to play-act.

It is perhaps inevitable that professionals should become sport's moral arbiters. After all, their conduct is watched by millions every match. This has the effect of normalising their behaviour. What is more, when public judgment is required it is undertaken by ex-professionals on sports programmes, who tend to share their sensibilities. In their defence, there is also perhaps a case that professionals, paid to eke out every advantage, are more aware of where sport’s pressure points lie, and so are the best judges of what constitutes a crossing of the moral line. But either way, eventually that relentless professional viewpoint is bound to dominate everyone else’s thinking.

There might be an argument for moral relativism; that given the pressures they face, professionals should play to different standards than the rest. But this, it seems, is just a way of saying that professionals’ conduct can be less ethical than others’. And there is a difference between what has become accepted and what is right. In an ideal world, it would be the amateurs who would have the right to decide what is morally acceptable on the sport’s field; the enthusiasts that ruled as philosopher kings above the self-interested professionals. Having played Sunday cricket for many years, your correspondent suspects that those who most cherish cricket’s spirit are to be found on the village green, not the county square. If they say Mankading is moral, who are the pros to disagree?

Cricket - There's more grey to chucking than we might think

Osman Samiuddin in Cricinfo

A decade ago cricket's ancient and embedded hyper-morality crashed into the modern world's burgeoning thirst for reality television. The focus for this communion was Muttiah Muralitharan, and more specifically his action. Two TV networks, ESPN (in India) and the UK's Channel 4, broadcast what were paraded at the time as definitive acquittals of Muralitharan's action, which had till then been called periodically, sanctioned occasionally, and the subject of hysterical debate permanently.

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Muralitharan went through his repertoire of deliveries with a steel-embedded plaster brace around his right arm, from bicep to wrist, and with admirable good nature. He looked a little uneasy in the ESPN show, a little too much like the guinea pig just becoming aware of his centrality to bigger, buffeting winds. But he went about it like a man who felt he needed to.

He bowled to Michael Slater in that one, to recreate match conditions. There was a doctor present too, explaining the unique physical quirks of Muralitharan's wrist, arm and shoulder, though he felt a little like Dr Nick Riviera, whose only residency of note has been on The Simpsons. Ravi Shastri, for ESPN, was quadruply burdened, as host, judge, jury and, eventually, the benefactor who cleared Murali. Shastri did so in the manner with which we are all familiar, effectively hype-mastering a science documentary. For Channel 4, Mark Nicholas managed a sombre posture, considered and inquiring but above all providing a kind of bipartisan seal on matters.

The issue by then had become so divided along racial lines that a non-Asian clearing of Murali felt necessary. That was the ultimate takeaway, of course, that Murali did not chuck. He could not with that steel brace on. Even Slats, an Aussie, said so.

In hindsight it is not so much the details of Murali's case that were important as was the fact that cricket felt the need for this public trial by TV in the first place. Even today, viewing it produces the kind of cringe only a certain kind of reality show does; especially the eagerness with which Muralitharan is cleared, as if he was guilty of some crime.

Though he looks uncomfortable in the ESPN version, Murali looked cheery and eager for Channel 4. He was probably a willing participant, perhaps even an instigator in doing the shows, but that is hardly the point. He was compelled into it by cricket, feeling no other recourse was available to prove that he was not some evil, cheating villain who would leave cricket forever corrupted. That is precisely what umpires such as Ross Emerson and Darrell Hair seemed to think he was, no-balling him with such ugly fervour that it was impossible to avoid feeling a vicarious humiliation at what Murali underwent. Men are prone to delusions when invested with the tiniest bit of authority in any case, but when furnished with a haloed moral authority they become monsters, or cricket umpires.

Hair and Emerson were after all only maintaining professional tradition. In every purge of suspect actions, umpires have led the hounding, right at the front of bloodthirsty crowds. Chuckers (and even the word is so phonetically derisive) have never been just men with kinks in their actions, or have seemed to bowl thus as a natural outcome of the overarm bowling action, which basically predetermines some degree of straightening (as an ICC survey discovered back in 2004). Cricket has treated chuckers as lepers because cricket doesn't have a reliable sense of a scale of bad: it can summon about the same amount of moral outrage for slow over rates as it can for Mankading, intimidatory bowling and match-fixing. It has a spirit nobody can define but one everybody screeches about when it is - regularly and easily - breached. So Murali and Saeed Ajmal walk around with an asterisk floating above them. To their detractors they are asylum seekers who exist only because of the weak-kneed liberalism of a governing body.

Maybe now the urge to purge is suppressed a little but the moralising over suspect actions remains; in the smugness of Australia and England that their offspinners do not bowl doosras, or feel the need to wear long sleeves (Shane Warne, one failed drug test plus one corruption scandal to the good, sniggering at Ajmal's long sleeves in the World T20 is a classic example of cricket's wonky moral scale); in Michael Vaughan tweeting and Stuart Broad responding to a photo of Ajmal in action and, metaphorically, nodding and winking. That yanks into black-and-white territory what is an inherently grey matter.

Suspect actions can be deliberate but they can also be functions of the mechanics of human bodies we do not understand. Could anyone have imagined that a study would find 99% of bowlers in cricket straighten their arm to some degree? What effects do injuries have, as a fairly serious accident did on Ajmal's right forearm when he was younger? How to explain the squirmy spectacle of Shoaib Akhtar being able to bend his elbow in ways that normally ought not to have been possible?

Where, in any case, is the study that sheds light on the exact nature of the advantages gained from greater elbow straightening? It is said that bowling the doosra is impossible without breaking the acceptable degrees of flex, but how to explain Saqlain Mushtaq, the pioneer, who did it with almost no visible bend at all? He even bowled it under the eyes of Hair and Emerson and elicited not a squeak, so he must have been fine, right? Even if we make the crazy assumption that post-Murali, Hair might have been chastened?

	Where is the study that sheds light on the exact nature of the advantages gained from greater elbow straightening?

****

Cricket cannot continue being blind to the grey of this issue because soon we might be in greyer territory. Last week the ICC's cricket committee expressed its concerns about the identifying, reporting and testing of suspect actions. The processes, they said, need to change.

The primary reason appears to be discontent with the testing labs at the University of Western Australia in Perth, where bowling actions have hitherto undergone testing. The time and cost of sending a bowler that far has always been problematic but now more issues have emerged. One official familiar with the meeting last week says that there was concern about discrepancies in the findings of the Perth labs and others around the world. Apparently the Perth lab has not been following the exact protocols for testing actions that the ICC has laid down, disagreeing with the nature of those protocols.

So the ICC wants to accredit other labs around the world, in England, South Africa and India initially, and ultimately standardise testing protocols and results. The utopian aim is to have testing centres in every Full Member country, so that bowlers can be observed, tested and corrected at domestic level before they get further.

More significantly, they are also testing body sensors that could capture real-time analysis of a bowler's action during a game. These were tested by under-19 players at the recent World Cup but only in net practice, and much more work needs to be done before it goes further. The calibration of the sensors on the arm is a particular issue, especially after players dive in the field.

In time, that will be the least of the problems, because trickier questions will arise. Who will wear sensors in a game? Those who have already undergone testing once? Others we suspect have a kink in their action? Nobody, as the ICC says, is cleared permanently, so everyone is under the scanner theoretically. Singling out someone who may have a kink but has not been tested officially places an undue burden on the bowler and recreates, in a way, the TV trial Murali underwent. How real is real-time? Will we be able to see the results after each ball, after each over, after each session, after each day?

Mike Hesson has already asked how those with suspect actions will be policed: what happens, he said, if a wicket falls off a ball delivered by an action in breach of the laws? Will a TV umpire review it immediately? Umpiring technology hardly needs further complication. As it stands, these discussions haven't begun but these are difficult and complicated questions. It is, after all, a difficult and complicated issue, even if it feels sometimes that cricket has still not grasped this.

Arjuna Ranatunga - From 'sarong Johnnie' to national icon

Janaka Malwatta in Cricinfo

 

Ranatunga drew a line in the sand for Sri Lanka when he backed Murali against the umpires  © Getty Images

Enlarge

Sri Lanka always had cricketers who made the world sit up and take notice.

Sidath Wettimuny, refined and understated, and Duleep Mendis, buccaneering and devil-may-care, were the early heroes of a nascent Test nation. Aravinda de Silva, one of the most graceful batsmen to play the game, was Sri Lanka's first true great. In an era of Brian Lara, Sachin Tendulkar and Ricky Ponting, Wasim Akram described de Silva as the most difficult batsman to bowl to. More recently, Mahela Jayawardene and Kumar Sangakkara have compiled over 10,000 Test runs each, putting them among the top ten run accumulators in history. And no discussion of Sri Lankan greats could even start without reference to Muttiah Muralitharan, arguably the greatest spin bowler of all time, who carried Sri Lanka's bowling attack almost single-handedly for much of his 18-year career. 

But top-level sport is won and lost in the mind. One man was responsible for changing the mentality of the Sri Lankan team he captained and the individuals in it. In so doing, he forged a team that believed it could defeat all comers. Under Arjuna Ranatunga's leadership, Sri Lanka went from charming amateurs to World Cup winners. It didn't happen by chance.

Arjuna was born in Gampaha, a town outside Colombo, and went to school at the unfashionable Ananda College. In the pre-Test match era, schoolboy cricket was the pinnacle of the sport in the country, and the anglicised elite schools dominated both cricket and the back pages. Ananda College, established by the Buddhist Theosophist Society specifically to counter missionary activity, was the antithesis of the elite schools. It is well documented that a 15-year-old Arjuna was dismissed as a "sarong Johnnie" by an elderly member of the Sinhalese Sports Club when he first arrived. Colonial attitudes run deep in the colonised. Perhaps these early outsider experiences shaped Arjuna's belligerence.

He made his Test debut in the inaugural Test in Colombo in February 1982, at the age of 18. Though still a schoolboy, he led Sri Lanka's first Test fightback. Coming in at 34 for 4, Arjuna hit a fluid fifty, incidentally also Sri Lanka's first Test fifty. It was a mature and assured debut. When the match finished, he went back to school. But it is not for his batting that Arjuna is remembered.

Arjuna captained Sri Lanka on their 1995-96 tour to Australia, a pivotal tour in the team's development. On arrival, they were regarded as a harmless and exotic distraction. By the time they left, they had demonstrated a capacity for a fight. It was an ugly tour in many ways. It is said racial vilification was never far from the surface, and the tour is most remembered for the controversy surrounding Muralitharan.

Arjuna was a constant irritant to opponents throughout his career. His policy seemed to be to go where the exchanges were spikiest, and get stuck in

Murali, already an established Test player, with 22 caps, was called for throwing. Arjuna's response could have come out of the manual that showed you how to forge a unified team. He backed Murali unconditionally, remonstrating forcefully and publicly with Australian umpires. Meek capitulation would not only have imperilled Murali's career, it would have set the self-esteem of the team back severely. Instead, Arjuna demonstrated the fighting qualities of the warrior prince he was named after.

Although Sri Lanka were outplayed by Australia, they knocked out West Indies to make the final of the triangular ODI series. In the process, they honed a strategy that was a vital part of their World Cup win. Romesh Kaluwitharana and Sanath Jayasuriya opened the batting with a blaze of boundaries. Sri Lanka's blitzkrieg approach at the top of the innings was born.

Arjuna was a constant irritant to opponents throughout his career. His policy seemed to be to go where the exchanges were spikiest, and get stuck in. A powerful man, broad in the shoulder and forearm, he seemed immune to intimidation. He was certainly effective at riling opponents. I recall an apoplectic Alec Stewart screaming at his own fielders while Arjuna ambled between the wickets.

Arjuna was also influential in the policy of seeking cricketers from the provinces. At the time, Sri Lanka struggled to harness cricketing talent outside Colombo. Jayasuriya was an early beneficiary of Arjuna's vision. Arjuna brought Jayasuriya from his home town, Matara, to Colombo, and even put him up. Jayasuriya, now chairman of selectors, has given five young cricketers from the north and the eastern regions central U-19 contracts. Arjuna's legacy lives on.

By refusing to back down, by returning all and any insult with interest, Arjuna proved to the opposition, and more importantly to his own team, that Sri Lanka had earned the right to compete as equals. He certainly blew away the last remnants of the post-colonial mindset that had been directed at him at the SSC.

Sri Lanka's two most hailed triumphs, the 1996 World Cup and their first Test win in England, occurred under his leadership. His successors, notably the statesmanlike Jayawardene and the fiercely intelligent Sangakkara, have benefited from his groundwork. Different captains for different times, they had no need of Arjuna's in-your-face bellicosity. The teams they inherited knew they had it in them to stand toe to toe with the best.

Shouldering the pain of throwing

Andrew Leipus in Cricinfo

Able to bowl but not throw because of shoulder pain? Or maybe you have lost power in your throw? Have to throw side-arm? Does your whole arm go "dead" for a few seconds after you release the ball? Or you are now experiencing a click, crunch or clunk when you lift the arm? These are just some of the many symptoms and behaviours that can be present in the cricketer's shoulder and which can help clinicians diagnose what your underlying problem might be. 

There can't be a shoulder discussion without a brief anatomy lesson. In terms of understanding the basics, the glenohumeral joint is a shallow ball-and-socket design, allowing a huge amount of mobility yet remaining as stable as possible. It also has to tolerate massive torques or rotational forces generated. Some people equate the head of the humerus (HOH) and its relation to the scapula with a golf ball sitting on a tee, i.e. easy to topple over. But it is actually more like trying to balance a soccer ball on your forehead, with both the ball and the head/body constantly moving to maintain "balance" and stop the ball from dropping off. It is this balance between the socket joint and the scapula position which we need to consider in the cricketer's shoulder as it is where a lot of problems begin and where a lot of rehab programmes fail.

As is the case with all injuries, the anatomy often lets us down by not being able to cope with the functional demands. Some injuries develop acutely, such as occurs with one hard throw when off balance, and some develop over a period of time through lots of high repetition - degenerative type injuries. The two most commonly injured structures in cricket are the infamous rotator cuff and the glenoid labrum.

The cuff is a group of small muscles acting primarily to pull and hold the HOH into its glenoid socket. The long head of biceps tendon assists the rotator cuff in this role. The labrum is a circular cartilage structure designed to "cup" or deepen this socket and provide attachment for the biceps tendon.

An injury to the labrum results in the HOH having excess translatory motion and not staying centred in the glenoid. The cuff then has to work harder to compensate for this structural instability. This translation often results in a "clunky" shoulder or one which goes "dead" when called upon to throw at pace. Anil Kumble's shoulder had a damaged labrum due to his high-arm legspin action. Years of repetitive stress had detached his labrum from the glenoid, resulting in the need for surgery. He's not alone. Muttiah Muralitharan and Shane Warne also had shoulder surgeries in their careers. And it's not just spin bowling, as many labral compression injuries occur during fielding when diving onto an outstretched arm.

Injury to the cuff, however, also results in a dynamic instability, whereby the HOH is again not held centred, and subsequently over time stresses both the labrum and cuff. Impingement is a common term used to describe a narrowing of the space in the shoulder that can result from this loss of centering. The cuff doesn't actually need to be injured for this to occur - repetitive throwing can tighten the posterior cuff muscles and effectively "squeeze" the HOH out of its normal centre of rotation in the glenoid. It really is a vicious circle and cricketers compound any underlying dysfunction by the repetitive nature of the game. They might not throw much in a match but when they do it is usually with great speed. The bulk of the throwing volume occurs during their practice sessions.

And when talking about shoulder mechanics we need to also understand critical role of the scapula. In order to ensure that the HOH remains remain centred in the glenoid, the scapula must slide and rotate appropriately around the chest wall (that soccer ball example). Any dysfunction in scapula movement is typically evidenced by a "winging" motion when the arm is elevated or by observing the posture of the upper back. Whether the winging comes before the injury or as a consequence is hotly debated. Either way it needs to function properly. And to complicate things even further, the thoracic spine also needs to be able to extend and rotate fully to allow the scapula to move. Kyphotic or slouched upper backs are terrible for allowing the arm to reach full elevation and is a big contributor to shoulder problems.

It should be clear that in order for a cricketer's shoulder to be pain-free, there needs to be a lot of dynamic strength and mobility of the upper trunk and shoulder girdle. But throwing technique is equally critical to both performance and injury prevention. Studies have shown that the shoulder itself contributes only 25% to the release speed of the ball. To impart this 25%, the angular velocity of the joint can reach 7000 degrees per second. However, what is interesting is that a whopping 50% is contributed by the hips and trunk when the player is in a good position for the throw (allowing for a coordinated weight transfer). But when off-balance and shying at the stumps, as often occurs within the 30-yard circle, the shoulder alone can be called upon to produce more than its usual load. Thus it is important to remember that throwing should be considered as a whole body skill.

	Injury to the deep joint capsule ligaments and biceps tendon are difficult to diagnose but can account for that "problem" shoulder © Getty Images Enlarge

Often a player will be able to bowl without experiencing symptoms, but will struggle to throw. In these cases, it is common to find pathology involving the long head of biceps or where it anchors superiorly onto the labrum. The latter is also commonly known as a SLAP lesion. In the transition from the cocking to acceleration phase of throwing, the shoulder is forcefully externally rotated. The biceps is significantly involved in stabilising the HOH at this point and often pulls so hard that it peels the labrum off the glenoid, giving symptoms of pain and instability. The overhead bowling action, however, does not put the shoulder into extremes of external rotation and hence symptoms do not usually occur. If pain is experienced during the release phase of throwing then there is a good chance that technique is again at fault. In order to decelerate the arm after the ball is released, the trunk and arm need to "follow through", using the big trunk muscles and weight shift towards the target. Failure to do this results in a massive eccentric load on the biceps tendon, also potentially tugging on its anchor on the glenoid. Throwing side-arm to avoid extremes of external rotation and pain is a common sign that all is not well internally.

As you can see, an injury to the shoulder is not a simple problem. And there are many other types of pathology found. It requires thorough assessment and management of a host of potential contributing factors which are mostly modifiable when identified. And whilst a lot can go wrong in a cricketer's shoulder, there is a lot that can be done to make sure it stays strong and healthy. Because prevention is always better than surgery in terms of outcomes, next week I'll discuss some shoulder training and injury prevention tips used by elite cricketers.