31 March 2018


Teams prepare for cricket in different ways, and after a century and a half of battle, there can’t be many pre-tour activities still untried by the old Ashes adversaries. Few have proven so inspiring as the pilgrimage to Gallipoli taken by Steve Waugh’s 2001 Invincibles, and not many can have gone as badly – nor presaged an Ashes series as accurately – as the England team’s 2006 spy mission in Staffordshire (Ali Martin wrote about this and other training camps here). It’s generally felt, though, that the best way to warm up is by playing cricket. Or at least, it used to be.

England used to take great pains over rehearsing their understudies. It was vital, the thinking once went, that they should learn to play first class cricket on foreign pitches. Take, for example, the England A tour of Australia in early 1993. Ten games were played, including first class fixtures against all of the Sheffield Shield teams except Victoria (who were incidentally the weakest team in Australia that season). During the course of those fixtures, England’s young guns came up against Ponting, Gilchrist, McGrath, Hayden, Slater, Blewett, Bevan, Law, Kasprowicz, Greg and Chris Matthews, Cox, McIntyre, Wellham, Rackemann and Sleep plus future England coaches Troy Cooley and Trevor Bayliss. That certainly makes an interesting contrast with the team’s most recent Antipodean tour, during which the England Lions played one non-first class game featuring two international players (Cutting and Forrest) followed by one T20 game featuring none at all. They then, of course, travelled to the West Indies and were completely taken apart.

When other national teams visited England, the old days were almost unrecognisable. 25 years ago, the Australians came to the British Isles in possession of the Ashes. Their 1993 tour lasted 112 days and cricket was scheduled on 82 of those. The 30 matches comprised six tests, three ODIs, 16 matches against all of the counties except Nottinghamshire and Yorkshire, plus exhibition games against the Duchess of Norfolk’s XI, the England Amateur XI, the Combined Universities, the Minor Counties and Ireland. The tour was a riotous success for the visitors (see their tour statistics here). They won 18 matches, drew nine and lost only three. That they did this with a squad of 17 players made their performances all the more remarkable. During the county games alone, they played against no fewer than 76 international players. No county put out fewer than two internationals against them; Essex fielded eight and Lancashire fielded seven. The county matches against the tourists were important occasions, not just for the practising visitors but for the home board and the first class teams. It was almost unthinkable for a county not to play the tourists, and it was equally rare for the county not to put its marquee players on show.

Nothing, however, has changed as much as the way the England team prepares for overseas tours. Let’s go back 25 years again: during the Ashes tour of 1994/95, the England team arrived 31 days ahead of the first test and played on 19 of them, engaging in seven matches during which they faced 28 international players. Eight of these players (Bevan, Blewett, McIntyre, Slater, Taylor and Mark Waugh) would go on to feature in the test series. Even after the main event had begun, three more four-day games were slotted between the test matches, which not only gave England time to assess their rapidly-dwindling options as injuries ravaged their squad, but also gave Australia the opportunity to field a further 11 of their players. This was not only how it was a quarter of a century ago; this was how it had always been. It was the pattern for the next few tours, too, but other traits of the warm-up schedule were about to evolve very quickly.

My table below shows two pertinent trends: one is a marked diminution of the preparation period, from 31 days in 1994 to 22 in 1998, 16 in 2002 and 13 in 2006; the other is that the number of Australian international players during England’s warm-up matches was stable (relative to the number of these matches) until 2010, whereupon it suddenly and steeply declined.

How the England team has prepared before the first Ashes test

It was England who learned their lesson first, and they did so during the 2006/07 series. Having steadily cut their acclimatisation period down to less than a fortnight – half the duration, and half the number of playing days, of the 1994/95 series – England collapsed to their first Ashes whitewash since 1920/21. The ECB had whittled away, year by year. The stick had broken. The penny dropped. The error was rectified in the 2010/11 season, with a full extra week restored to the warm-up schedule, and England bounced back. They had found, through trial and error, that a warm-up period of less than three weeks weakened their team.

Next came Australias lesson. Until November 2010, they had always put out strong teams to practise against England, but that all changed after one match. The match in question was Australia A v England at Hobart – the last warm up match before the first test – and the home XI is worth listing in full: Hughes, Cowan, Khawaja, Ferguson, White (c), Paine (w), Smith, O’Keefe, McKay, George, Cameron. Ten of those players wore the Baggy Green; three would wear it in the coming series. It was an impressive show of squad depth by the hosts – but they had shown England too much. Only a final-wicket stand prevented England from winning by an innings; they still won by 10 wickets.

Australia had overshared. They learned their lesson. That match, seven years ago, was the last time that Cricket Australia selected a current Australian test player to face England in a practice match.

In 2013/14, England faced 16 players with Australian honours, but the home board was careful to make sure that during the visitors’ four non-international matches, they had no exposure to any of the current test team. It was an expedient made even more simple on the recent 2017/18 tour: England again played only four practice matches, during which Cricket Australia fielded only one player with test cricket experience. That was Tim Paine, who had by that point appeared in four tests, the last of which was seven years previously. And whereas in 2010/11, England’s warm-up opposition had become steadily stronger, culminating in that impressive Australia A team, this time the home selectors reversed the trend. For the last match before the 2017 Brisbane test, Paine was omitted and the most senior player was Gurinder Sandhu (two ODIs in 2015).

It’s not just the England team that suffers; of course it isn’t. Let’s go back to that apparently endless summer of 1993. That spring, a squad from Zimbabwe had been invited to tour England by way of welcoming them into the fold as a test nation. They had, by this point, played four test matches, three at home and a thrashing in Delhi. The rationale went: why not give them more of an opportunity to get used to playing multi-day matches against professional cricketers in unfamiliar conditions? They were given six matches, including four against counties at full strength. During this brief and friendly ‘work experience’ tour, they came up against 14 England internationals: Brown, Butcher, Croft, Ealham, Fleming, Giles, Headley, Hollioake, James, Maynard, Morris, Patel, Thorpe and Watkin. In addition, they also faced Angel, Blewett, Jones, Sleep and Zoehrer of Australia; Morrison of New Zealand; Mudassar Nazar of Pakistan; Arthurton, Harper, Lambert and Simmons of the West Indies. What a wonderful introduction to overseas touring that must have been.

Last year, the game’s global custodians extended the same invitation to Afghanistan. Their reward? One unofficial limited-overs game against the MCC at Lord’s. The MCC did their bit: they fielded a strong team, they streamed the match around the world and 1.2 million people tuned in to watch. I even had the great privilege of commentating on the game. But that was all Afghanistan got. 

It’s a pity that in terms of quantity and quality of preparation, the international teams of today are so inferior to teams of the past. It denies the public opportunities to visit cricket grounds and see the best players in the world at affordable prices. It reduces the incomes of professional clubs. It erodes people’s access to the game. When tourists don’t tour, they don’t learn.

24 March 2018


Well then. We can now add ball tampering to the rap sheet of the only international team that “knows where the line is”. The self-appointed guardians of cricketing morality, having already torn up the Preamble to the Laws of Cricket – that tiresome preface that deals with such old-fashioned nonsense as “the spirit of the game” – has now launched its first offensive against Law 41.

For those of you who don’t know what Law 41 is (and there are at least 17 tourists in South Africa who either don’t know or don’t care), it sets out what constitutes unfair play. No, you read that right: there’s an actual Law about it. And you thought it was just some nebulous idea governed by a dozen and a half Antipodeans, didn’t you?

Before the neutered headlines of the accredited press take over the narrative, let’s just take a moment to summarise, simply and clearly, what Cameron Bancroft did on live television this afternoon.

1.       He removed a hard, flat, yellow object from his trouser pocket and scraped the ball with it (watch).
2.       This was shown on television and thus seen by his coach and by the off-field officials.
3.       Handscomb (the substitute) was sent out to the ground and spoke to Bancroft.
4.       Bancroft removed the object from his trouser pocket and placed it in his underpants (watch).
5.       The off-field officials informed the umpires that they needed to speak with Bancroft.
6.       The umpires halted play to speak with Bancroft.
7.       Bancroft removed a black cloth (the pouch for his sunglasses) from his pocket and showed it to the umpires with an innocent look on his face (watch).
8.       The umpires continued with the game.

Here’s what Law 41 has to say about this sort of thing:

“The umpires shall consider the condition of the ball to have been unfairly changed if any action by any player does not comply with [these] conditions:
“A fielder may (1) polish the ball on his/her clothing provided that no artificial substance is used and that such polishing wastes no time; (2) remove mud from the ball under the supervision of an umpire; (3) dry a wet ball on a piece of cloth that has been approved by the umpires.
“It is an offence for any player to take any action which changes the condition of the ball.

The Laws make it clear that if the fielder does what Bancroft did, then the umpires must consider the condition of the ball to have been unfairly changed.

“The umpires shall make frequent and irregular inspections of the ball. In addition, they shall immediately inspect the ball if they suspect anyone of attempting to change the condition of the ball.
“If the umpires consider that the condition of the ball has been unfairly changed by a member or members of either side, they shall ask the captain [or batsmen] of the opposing side if he/she would like the ball to be replaced … [and] award five penalty runs to the opposing side.”

In this event, the umpires did not inspect the ball after the off-field officials advised them what had happened. They walked over to Bancroft and accepted his explanation that he was using a black cloth on the ball. We know that they accepted his explanation, because they did not ask the batsmen if they would like the ball to be replaced, and they did not award five penalty runs.

Not for the first time in this series – indeed, not for the first time in this test match – the Australian team has stamped on the rule book and spat in the face of the cricketing public.

Darren Lehmann: keyholder to the moral maze

In January 2003, Darren Lehmann was playing for Australia when he was run out in a one day international against Sri Lanka in Brisbane. As he returned to the dressing room, he exclaimed: “Cunts, cunts, fucking black cunts” (read David Hopps’ article here). Later, he apologised sincerely to the Sri Lankans – who were graceful in their acceptance of his contrition – before serving a five-match ban. Recalling his outburst with Daniel Brettig more than ten years later (see here), Lehmann was undeniably sincere: “I speak about it honestly, it was a big mistake, and it was a big learning curve in my career and if I can impart anything on other players along the way, then so be it.”

Everyone deserves a second chance, Lehmann is obviously genuinely contrite, and his influence on the Australian team since 2013 has been positively transformative. But for all his great skills as a coach, he has found it impossible to adopt a consistent or even faintly coherent stance regarding player discipline. Almost as soon as he took over, he was encouraging a no-holds-barred approach for players and spectators alike when dealing with Stuart Broad, who had recently copied the Australian tradition of not walking when you know you’ve edged the ball behind.

“Our players haven't forgotten, they’re calling him everything under the sun as they go past. I hope the Australian public are the same because that was just blatant cheating. I don't advocate walking but when you hit it to first slip it’s pretty hard. From my point of view I just hope the Australian public give it to him right from the word go for the whole summer and I hope he cries and he goes home. I just hope everyone gets stuck into him … the biggest problem there is the poor umpire cops all the crap … and Stuart Broad makes them look like fools.”

Broad’s crime, according to Lehmann? “Blatant cheating”. The operative word being “blatant”. Lehmann has no problem at all with cheating, as has been demonstrated by Bancroft. He just hates cheating when it’s obvious. Poor old umpires, being made to look such fools by the obvious transgressors like Broad. Much better, Lehmann believes, to be more deceptively fooled by the sneakier cheats like Bancroft.

The Australian crowds, of course, with their notorious racist minority (as described by Moeen Ali here), needed no further excuse to lay into Broad during the subsequent Ashes tour. Luckily for Broad he isn’t black, but he still copped plenty at the Vulture Street End (see here). Today, not only is the boot on the other foot, it’s being buried deep in the collective Australian backside by the Cape Town faithful: Lehmann doesn’t like it one bit (read this) and neither do his players (see here). It is very hard to be sympathetic when the bully goes running to the headteacher.

David Warner: the loosest cannon in the armoury

In that 2014 interview with Brettig, Lehmann (by now the coach of the national team) had already worked out that he had a tricky man-management challenge on his hands: David Warner. Describing his different-strokes-for-different-folks method of player discipline, he observed that “Players are their own harshest critic, as you would imagine, there are times when they're going to get a rocket from me … and knowing each player, they're all different. I wouldnt talk to David Warner too long, because he wouldn't understand, hed lose it.”

Everybody knows that David Warner has a serious anger management problem. He made a racially offensive comment to Rohit Sharma, he punched Joe Root in the face, he called at least one opponent a “fucking spastic” and he mocked Jonathan Trott for having a mental health difficulty (see his rap sheet here). Even his wicket-taking celebrations can be downright unhinged (see here). He evidently very sincerely believes that he would be a lesser player if he weren’t the most unpopular player in world cricket (see here). When retirement comes, he will regret that posterity recorded him as a bastard first and a batsmen second. Warner doesn’t just need management, he needs containment. But Lehmann, by his own admission, can’t control him. The least Lehmann can do is try to create a stable environment with clear boundaries.

And so, of course, we come to “the line”. Lehmann was full of fine words after his fall from grace in Brisbane, wanting others to learn the lesson that cost him his reputation. This was a noble and honourable aim. The trouble is, he doesn’t actually mean it. This endless talk of “knowing where the line is and not crossing it” is, as every follower of cricket has noted, utter nonsense. The whole purpose of talking about the line is for Lehmann to give his players carte blanche to behave exactly as they please, without reference to the game’s authorities and without one iota of respect for its fans. He wants his players and spectators to abuse the opposition, but he wants overseas spectators to treat his men with respect. He wants his team to fool the umpires, but not make fools of them (a subtle but apparently crucial distinction). He wants his players to cheat, but denounces opponents who cheat too obviously.

Warner’s not a victim. Bancroft’s a cheat. And Lehmann’s fooling nobody but himself.