The beat of cricket

PETE LANGMAN in Cricinfo


 Getting the timing right, when playing and elsewhere, sets you free


Time, as a wiser man than I once said, is the author of authors. No matter how fast we run in the hope of outpacing it, it always catches up with us. This is because it is attached to our heels with elastic. And it always has the last word, just as it does the first.

Cricket also has an elastic view of time, packing its excitement into barely a quarter of the actual minutes available. In Test match cricket, each ball bowled is in motion for between six and 12 seconds, with the important bit, from hand to bat, taking up barely an entire second. A typical hour's play, containing, say, 13 overs, thus involves barely 15 minutes of action, of which around two minutes are ball to bat to field. They also serve, as Milton would say.

And yet, within this game of contradictions built on dichotomy, this game that challenges us on every level, forcing us into unnatural positions, demanding fluidity when for the greater part of every match the entire field is almost entirely still, within this game the great players appear to manufacture their own time. Time is the umpire of umpires, if you like.

It's no wonder that when we are struggling with our personal game we explain it in temporal terms: we can't time the ball; the rhythm in our run-up has gone. It even works for keepers: a mistimed take bounces out of rather than buries itself into the glove.

I was once at a milonga, an organised event where you dance the tango, where tradition has it that the women choose their partner for each dance. I noticed one gentleman, maybe in his late fifties, who was in high demand. He danced a simple dance, little more than the basic walk of tango, but he was obviously preferred over the younger and flashier leaders, all leg flicks and twirls. I asked one of his partners why he was so popular (even though I thought I had it nailed), and the response was that he just felt better. I'd been watching his feet, however. The reason he felt better was because he knew where the beat was. This meant that his dancing partners could predict when his feet were aiming at, which made for a dance in which coordination was total, where two dancers merged into one. The others were merely there or thereabouts.

But cricket revolves around the ball, and specifically getting the ball to bend to our will rather than somebody else's. And to do that we need as much information about it as possible. In fact, we need to predict where it's going to be at any given time in its trajectory. Only in this way can it be propelled to just the right length, hit with just the right amount of force into just the right gap, clasped at just the right moment.

 When you play music (by which I mean contemporary popular music; classical music, with a conductor, is a different kettle of fish), the living and breathing heart of the music is the drummer, for they define the groove, they create the contingent time in which the music exists. For the ensemble to work, each instrument must find its place within that time, as asserted on the drum kit. The bass, for example, will find its home in the kick drum, not played at the same time, but inside the drumbeat. The bass must make the kick drum play a note. In similar fashion, the guitar must make the hi-hat or snare play a chord. For a drummer to play at their best, they must be balanced, relaxed and confident in every stroke. They must feel themselves inside the beat and avoid second-guessing their instincts. The best drummers produce a groove so big, so fat, that each beat acts as though it has its own gravity, with the default placement of a note being in the exact centre of each beat.

It is this knowledge of the beat's precise centre that allows the ensemble player freedom to make a rhythm that is irresistible, a rhythm so simple, so beyond mere precision that it enters the realms of inevitability. From this place, the note can be placed a little in front of the beat, a little behind, on top, underneath... the player controls the note, and thus the music.

And so it is in cricket.

When a bowler's run-up goes, the suggested fix is invariably technical, but what is needed is for them to tap into how it felt when all was dandy. They must feel like the drummer - relaxed, balanced, confident. They must feel that the ball is part of them, on a string, as is said of Jimmy Anderson when he's in the groove. The game is not the time to practise but just to kick back and play.
For the batsman, the process is the same. As you wait for the bowler to deliver the ball, so you tap into the feel of the game, allow your body to connect with it, and as the ball traces its arc towards you, your instinct knows where the centre of the ball is. Then control is yours. Play it early, play it late, play it spot on. Close the face, open the face, show the maker's name. Whichever you choose, the ball will obey.

Cricket is all about timing, and timing is not technique, it's feel. Perhaps, just perhaps, if we learn to feel differently, to trust our instincts to place the ball, bat or gloves just so, it might just help us to slot back into the groove.

Britain’s bosses fat and lazy? For once, Liam Fox has a point

Aditya Chakrabortty in The Guardian

Liam Fox ranks among the chief fantasists behind Brexit, deplores gay marriage as “social engineering”, and thinks nothing of claiming 3p from taxpayers for a car journey of less than 100m. But even a snake-oil salesman sometimes speaks the truth and in criticising British business as “too lazy and too fat on our successes”, he has a point.

I know, I know. Why defend a Tory headbanger who otherwise thirsts for cuts to the NHS budget and the slashing of taxes upon the rich? Why entertain lectures from someone whose only attempt at job creation was the boondoggle he shamelessly awarded his former best man?

Yet when the international trade secretary says, “If you want to share in the prosperity of our country, you have a duty to contribute to the prosperity of our country”, I fail to muster up the outrage. I share neither Fox’s views on the causes nor his suggestions on the solution. But he is on to something.

For the past six years, the Tory party has barely paused from laying into British workers. From Iain Duncan Smith to George Osborne, senior ministers wrote off a sizeable chunk of this country as “skivers”. The screws were twisted so hard that jobseekers who decline zero-hours contracts are now penalised with benefit sanctions.

And the Tories did all this with the simpering connivance of Nick Clegg’s LibDems. If you think that era ended with David Cameron, remember that Theresa May’s cabinet boasts luminaries who wrote a report stating: “Too many people in Britain … prefer a lie-in to hard work. Once they enter the workplace, the British are among the worst idlers in the world.”

Ever since 2010, the Tories have tried to pin the blame for economic sluggishness on the shirking Brits. At the same time, their ministers have boasted, with all the regularity of a cuckoo clock, about how the number of British people in work is now at a record high. As a matter of logic, both things cannot be true. The British cannot be both workshy and working more than ever before. The Tories have been fibbing – and at last one of their number has come out and said as much.

The real problem in Britain isn’t its workers: it’s the bosses. By this, I’m not getting at the poor old line managers. I mean those right at the top of big business who have got away with paying themselves too much and investing too little in their workers, their businesses and their society.

Consider pay. While the average British worker is barely better off than in 2008, wages for those at the top of British business have just kept soaring. Researchers at the High Pay Centre recently went through the accounts of the FTSE 100 largest companies. They found that chief executives raked in an average of £5.5m in 2015, up 10% from the year before.

Bung in the lavish pension arrangements and generous bonuses and the average chief executive now earns the same as 129 of their employees. There is no justification for such a wide disparity: no one is as productive as 129 other people. We have gone beyond “Because I’m Worth It” to “Because I Said So” (and my mates on the remuneration committee backed me up). Even when shareholders revolt, as happened at BP over the £14m handed out to its chief executive despite huge losses, they are roundly ignored.

The TUC has just crunched the numbers on how much investment the private sector makes in this country. Of the 29 leading industrialised countries, the UK comes in at 27. Businesses in Estonia, the Czech Republic, Poland: all invest more in plants, equipment and the rest. The only countries that do worse are Greece and Iceland.

We have the same calamitous showing in spending on research and development. A few years ago, the Sheffield University physicist Prof Richard Jones went through the figures. He wrote: “In 1979 the UK was one of the most research-intensive economies in the world. Now, among advanced industrial economies, it is one of the least.” All of our competitors – the US, Japan, France and Germany – have maintained or increased their spending on research. South Korea and China are breathing down our necks. But the British capitalist class prefers the safe bets, the quick bucks – and the mega handouts to the senior executives and the shareholders.

Vice chairman of Stronger In campaign calls off Liam Fox after saying is Britain ‘fat and lazy’
Friday afternoons on the golf course? Fox may have watched one too many episodes of Terry and June. But what’s clear is that Britain’s bosses pay themselves far more than is justified either by comparison with their workers or on their performance. They have spent years relying on taxpayers to top up poverty pay and on the regulators to allow pensions holidays – just so they could hand out more money to shareholders.

They take what academic Kevin Farnsworth estimates at £93bn a year in corporate welfare – cash handouts and subsidies. But they react with horror to the notion of decent wages or chipping in for apprenticeships, rather than treating them as the normal overheads of doing business in a developed country. If that’s not fat and lazy, I don’t know what is.

Of course there are good and non-greedy bosses. But I have spent six years hearing the view that the British are lazy spongers with barely a demurral from most of the media or the political classes. It is high time to push the pendulum back a little.

Fox sees the answer to all this as more slash and burn: of taxes, of red tape, of public spending. That is delusional. Britain has spent 40 years making the burden on business easier, and the results have been to create a capitalist class so sluggish and short-term that it now threatens the continuation of capitalism.

Better, by far, to have a more honest capitalism: in which the responsibilities of business – on taxes, on pay and on investment – are laid out alongside their rights.

Jeremy Corbyn: Love him or hate him, at least the Labour leader represents actual opposition

Mary Dejevsky in The Independent

​If anything illustrates the desperate need for a reordering of British politics, it is the treatment, or rather mistreatment, of Jeremy Corbyn. Almost everyone with even the tiniest stake in the system as it stands has contributed; that includes the London-based media, as well as the Labour MPs and celebrity spokespeople who are theoretically on his own side. The Conservatives have hardly needed to deploy any of their assault forces, so keen have others been to do the job for them.

Don’t get me wrong. I am no Corbynista. His politics are not mine, but I understand his appeal. His arguments are coherent; they deserve to be heard, and every government needs a credible opposition. Alas, this is not what is happening

To his many enemies, Jeremy Corbyn is a pretender. He is a pied piper who has cast a spell over a deluded section of the young. He is incompetent. He was eviscerated by Theresa May at PMQs. He’s hopeless in Parliament generally. He can’t lead. He could never be elected prime minister. He is a stubborn egotist, who won’t acknowledge his failings. He is traducing the noble Labour cause and should stand down post haste for the sake of the party he loves.

Well, that is a point of view. The trouble is that, even in our land of free elections and free media, it is pretty much the only message that is finding its way out to the great British public. Part of the fault may lie with Corbyn’s own media operation, but a lot of it derives from the dominance of a self-serving establishment logic, according to which only “people like us” are entitled to a say.

Here is an alternative version. Let’s start with legitimacy of party leaders. It is little short of astonishing that Jeremy Corbyn, with the colossal mandate he received a year ago from party supporters, in a contest conducted entirely according to agreed rules, should be dismissed as somehow illegitimate and an aberration. The losers may not like the rules (retrospectively), but at least some of them were instrumental in setting them. When Corbyn resists calls for his resignation, citing his mandate, he is absolutely justified in so doing.

Compare this with the position on the benches opposite. Theresa May was on the losing side (if only nominally) in the EU referendum; she was one of several candidates to succeed David Cameron, all of whom fell – by fair means or foul – by the wayside, leaving her to be crowned party leader and prime minister without a contest.

It beggars belief that the Conservatives, as Cameron did in his valedictory PMQs, have hailed this as a triumph (of efficiency, rather than democracy?) and that there are no calls – as yet – for Theresa May to seek her own mandate at a general election. May herself demanded this of Gordon Brown in analogous circumstances, so what is different now? It is not good enough to hail the return of political stability and insist that the poor electorate is suddenly tired of voting.

And how incompetent is Jeremy Corbyn really? He has not been nearly as ineffective a parliamentary performer as his adversaries charge. If you take into account that a large number of his own MPs have set out to stymie, if not actually sabotage, his efforts, just hanging on in there is a feat. He may not be the best picker of people and he may not be a natural leader, but it is hard to judge his strengths (beyond an almost superhuman resilience) when you consider the obstacles placed in his path.

He had to sit through a speech by his foreign affairs spokesman in the Syria debate that argued the opposite of what he, as party leader, believed. Earlier this week, he had to watch as his MPs hand May a victory in the Trident vote, that was out of all proportion to public sentiment. His difficulty is that the Labour Party’s electoral system threw up a leader whose mandate came from the popular, rather than the still nostalgically Blairite parliamentary, party. How many leaders would look competent in such circumstances?

Consider other measures of political success and the picture changes. As Corbyn said yesterday in his opening bid to remain leader, the party under his tutelage has won every by-election it has fought and four mayoral races, including London. It has changed the terms of the economic debate – George Osborne’s demise and Theresa May’s first remarks as Prime Minister are the latest testimony to that. Party membership is higher than it has ever been, and Corbyn – improbable though it once seemed – has fired political enthusiasm into the supposedly apathetic young.

He has done this by reviving old Labour priorities and applying them in a way that speaks to a generation growing up in the shadow of the financial crisis and several disastrous wars. Nor does his brand of Labour speak just to the young. It appeals to many of those whose employment is precarious, who have seen huge mistakes (in finance and Iraq) go unpunished, who resent the stratospheric rewards the bosses reserve for themselves, and who ask whether Labour’s pursuit of electability in the 1990s was not at the price of their interests and the party’s soul.

The political centrism that prevailed in Parliament in the wake of Tony Blair’s landslide, left sections of the population essentially without a voice. The Iraq war, a touchstone now for mistrust of government, was supported by both major parties in Parliament, as was sweeping de-regulation, as – despite the Labour leader’s best efforts – was the Trident decision this week.

Jeremy Corbyn’s was a lone voice on all these issues, but he can claim in many ways to have been vindicated. His so-called “intransigence” has now won him a following in the country at large, where levels of discontent – largely disguised by the first-past-the-post electoral system – were spectacularly laid bare in the Brexit vote. Whether you agree with him or not, you must accept that Jeremy Corbyn represents a real opposition. If only the Labour elite could accept that, too.

Ian Healy on Wicketkeeping: 'Stay low, watch the ball and get your head over your gloves'

What's the main difference between keeping in Australia and elsewhere in the world?

You get more consistent bounce in Australia, so you have more time to move your feet, like Australian keepers want to. We want to move our feet to get outside the line of the ball and take the ball on the inside hip as you move towards the slips.

At Adelaide or Melbourne, at times, it doesn't bounce through consistently so you've got to work hard. But traditionally, Perth, Brisbane, Hobart, Sydney, they are good pitches that bounce through and give you time to move.

Wicketkeeping to the spinners is generally pretty consistent in Australia too. When the legspinner is on, the ball won't often not spin when it's supposed to. It might slide on a bit sometimes, but it won't do anything ridiculous. I think it's a nice place to keep.

What about in Asia?

In the subcontinent, the biggest challenge is reverse swing to the fast bowlers. Everyone thinks keeping up to the spinners is hard work in those places. But I think those pitches are pretty consistent. They might be slow, but again it won't suddenly drag, or really spin or bounce very often. But when you keep to Wasim Akram, standing quite close to the stumps because the ball carries through low, with it swinging late, that is really difficult - a very hard part of those wicketkeepers' jobs.

Keeping in the West Indies is quite hard, because it doesn't bounce through like it does in Australia, which means you've got to move up a little bit, which cuts down the time you've got to move your feet to those fast men.

In England, the bounce is good, comes through to you nicely, but it does wobble. Sometimes you've just got to survive and watch it into your gloves and not worry too much about moving. Just watch the ball and catch it.

What does a wicketkeeper need to be successful in all of those conditions?

A really solid set of basics. You need an idea of how your feet should go, your body height, your hands and your gloves. And most importantly, to be watching the ball, not watching for what might happen. If you have a good body position, you'll be able to react. You've got to trust that and take anything that you have to take. And then you have to do that 600 times in a day.

How important is it to practise well?

If you have a solid awareness of basics, then when the pressure comes on in a game, when it's getting tight or you're running out of time to win the match, you're not thinking bad stuff. You're not thinking ahead, or worrying about the outcome. You know what you have to put in to do your job the best. And before you know it, the game is over, things are done and you've had a good afternoon.

Mastering your basics is important so you know what works for you when you start thinking badly. You can go back to a set of simple statements that get you back on the ball.

Where should a wicketkeeper take the ball - on the inside or outside of the body?

Australian wicketkeepers, when we're standing back to the quicks and the ball is bouncing nice and consistently, we like to take it on the inside hip. So that's the left hip if it's a right-handed batsman and the right hip for a left-hander. We get our feet going and our body just outside the line of the ball.

If it starts wobbling or if you haven't got time for that, you just have to survive and catch it right in front of you. I've got no problems resorting to that for a little period until you get used to that wobble or that inconsistent bounce.

What are the advantages of that technique? 

I think the wicketkeeper is moving better, doing that. Their rhythm is set up to go with the ball, whether the batsman misses or edges it. That allows your slips to spread out a bit more and you get a greater coverage from your slips cordon.

Sometimes that doesn't work, though. Because some days a wicketkeeper doesn't feel as good as other days, so you have to position the slips based on how you're feeling on that day. You don't want to have a big wide gap between yourself and first slip if you're not moving very well. You'll get caught out and the misery will get worse and worse.

Should a keeper watch the ball or the edge of the bat?

You have to only watch the ball. You have to forget the bat. Forget the batsman is there. Watch it and expect the batsman to miss it every ball. Be in position to take the ball, even when they hit it, just in case. If you concentrate on that for 15 to 20 minutes, it becomes natural and your brain is just doing that and the session goes well.

When there is a nick and you're in great form, it feels like slow motion. It's just a delight to hear that edge. Here comes the ball, it's on its way. If you're watching it, that is.

What happens if you do watch the bat and not the ball?

You'll be a split-second late. Either your fingers won't grasp around the ball, or it'll be a jerky movement at the end, maybe to your right. You won't be powerful and smooth in your movement into the catch. You have a big chance of dropping it. Just those final reflexes will be too slow. If you are watching the bat, you'll look surprised if the ball comes through. That's when you know that you weren't watching the ball.

What's the ideal body position for a wicketkeeper?

It varies for different body shapes. You need to make sure you've got some power in your quads. That means knees slightly bent and your weight on the balls of your feet, not flat-footed, not on your heels or toes. You've got to have some power, ready to go if you need it. If you're watching the ball only, you'll be able to move nice and strongly to wherever you have to be.

How do you know when the ball feels right in your hand?

There's a difference between catching the ball and catching the ball right. The sound it should make going into your gloves should be a clean nice thud. You can hear when the ball scrapes into your gloves.

You learnt a lot from Queensland wicketkeeper Peter Anderson. What did he teach you? 

He had a sharpness and fanaticism over the stumps over everything he practised. Head over your gloves, having the power so you can get the gloves towards the bails quickly. You just practise that for hours so that it feels natural and that's how you do it in a match. We'd probably practise eight hours a week together on all facets of wicketkeeping.

In the Australian team, how did you work together with your slips?

We practised a lot. I'm not sure teams do that enough at the moment, and when they do, they do it really hard - throw it hard, hit the ball really hard at the fielders.

You can actually vary it - short and sharp catches, longer ones that put their hands under a bit of pressure. Or middle-range ones, where you're not only practising catching but the cordon practises decisions, whether to go or not to go.

You've got to get a good feel for the person next to you, as to what they know and feel about you. So Mark Taylor, at first slip, would have a fair knowledge of when I was going to go, so he either backed up or backed off. Those decisions are more important than actual catching practice. That's what you're cementing and reinforcing - your coordination and knowledge between each other. We had a wonderful slips cordon: Taylor, Allan Border, if he needed to go in there, Mark Waugh, Steve Waugh at gully, [Shane] Warney snuck in there. So yeah, good catchers.

Does the standard of today's wicketkeeping frustrate you?

Yes, I think so. I don't mind the keepers who are good enough to do the job quite well. I don't mind that they are more known for their batting than their wicketkeeping if they do a job behind the stumps. There aren't too many absolute part-timers in there now. I think we see a few too many of them attempting it in T20, and T20, for me, is the game where you need your best keeper. The wickets don't do too much, so the impact of a brilliant stumping off a medium-pacer, or a class spinner, is huge in T20. So is the impact of a missed dismissal. You pick your best keeper because you don't need another batsman in 20 overs. You can bat the keeper anywhere you like. You don't really need all your batsmen in 20 overs.

Who's the best current international wicketkeeper?

They all have their moments. It's pretty even. Pakistan's Sarfraz Ahmed seems to cope well with the tricky spinners they've got. I saw the Sri Lankan wicketkeeper, Dinesh Chandimal, in this year's Test at Galle against Australia. He kept unbelievably well to the left-arm chinaman [Lakshan Sandakan], the right-arm offie [Dilruwan Perera] and the left-arm orthodox, [Ranganna] Herath. Chandimal is as good as it gets. Peter Nevill is a very good technician. England are still toing and froing with part-timers.

What about MS Dhoni?

Dhoni has been an unbelievable keeper for India. He should make so many more errors the way he keeps, but he doesn't. He gets the job done.

He doesn't seem to practise very often, but his No. 1 priority is to get the job done. He doesn't care whether he sticks the foot out sometimes and stops it with his pad. As captain, he's got to think about the team, its fortune, and he's got a high level of spin bowler to keep to in difficult conditions. It's a real challenge and I'm amazed how durable he's been, how long he's been able to maintain that position as wicketkeeper, captain and gun batsman.

Did Adam Gilchrist finish off the traditional non-batting keeper as a member of an international side?

Not really, no. I think that Gilly was good enough with the gloves. He was a wicketkeeper and an outstanding batsman. Probably the best batsman in the team and a more-than-adequate wicketkeeper to do the job for Australia. Never sell his gloves anything short of that, because I think he was fine. He wasn't as good in his early years as he could have been. But he got it right towards the end. He doesn't fit into that category of wicketkeeper that's in there because of his batting. He was good enough with the gloves.

Have teams since tried to copy the Gilchrist role, wanting first and foremost a front-line batsman, and if they can keep a bit, that's an advantage?

Maybe, but you're playing with fire there, trying to match Gilchrist's batting. Good luck with that. It's like all the kids who've been bowling legspin over the last 20 years. We've developed maybe one or two, that's it. Players like Gilchrist and Warne are once-in-a-generation players and may be impossible to emulate.

I thought after Gilly what Australia needed was the best wicketkeeper, because our bowlers weren't that good. Our bowlers weren't creating the opportunities that Glenn McGrath and Warne used to. We had to make sure we took every single chance, so we needed a really strong wicketkeeper after Adam. You've got to change what you need when the cycles of your team change.

Does a wicketkeeper's eyesight have to be really good?

I kept in contact lenses. To be a first-class athlete in any sport, you need good eyesight, so yeah, it's probably underrated. A lot of people don't know that they haven't got good eyesight. It's certainly worth checking out.

Did you ever get any vision training? 

No, not really. My optometrist always tried to get me to do some exercises to improve my vision. But she was always disappointed.

Does a wicketkeeper have to be as fit as an outfielder?

Fitter than an outfielder. A wicketkeeper has to be one of the fittest in the team. Batsmen get out and don't have to concentrate any more. A bowler is out of the attack and doesn't have to think about his set skill for a while. But a keeper has to do it day in day out for long periods.

It's a real combination between aerobic fitness, to get through a day, and psychological fitness, so you can concentrate for a whole day. You have to ration out your concentration and switch down a lot.

You have to be confident that your physical fitness is high, so you don't start thinking, "Hell, I've got two and a half hours to go here." That should never enter into your mind. And the days it does, you're in a bit of trouble. You need strength, speed, aerobic fitness, some endurance.

How did you ration your concentration during a long day?

You set the session up in the first 15 to 20 minutes. Make sure you're getting into really good habits. Then it'll look after itself a little bit, so you're not anxious, you're not having to tell yourself all the time to do these things. It just flows much better. Then relax with your team-mates and find some fun out there. Then, before you know it, it's lunch and then, before you know it, it's tea. And then the day is over.

What about taking stumpings? What's the strategy and technique there?

The whole goal of standing up to the stumps is to get your head over your gloves. So when you're catching the ball, you want your eyes right over the top of the gloves - a little bit of cushion in the catch, soft gloves. And then be as quick as you can to get it back and get the bail off. Forget the bat, watch the ball. It's about having the balance to do all that.

Did keeping to Shane Warne make it easier to play him when you were batting?

Not really. What you need when batting against Warne is a good technique. It doesn't matter how fast your feet are if you make a bad decision. You need a solid plan and an array of shots to keep some pressure on him. And then to get away with a risk or two, because most of the run-scoring options on a pitch that's supporting him are risky. Get away with your first few risks and then play a few shots, like a sweep shot, to get off strike; and work with the spin. Then you're a chance, but that's all.

And to keep to him? What's the secret?

You need a real solid set of basics. Stay low, watch the ball and get your head over your gloves. You don't need anything more.