Sky is the limit

Do you remember Sultan Zarawani? He was captain of the United Arab Emirates team at the 1996 World Cup. Not because he was the best player, but because he was very, very, very rich.

Perhaps Zarawani is most famous for his brave (but barking mad) confrontation with Allan Donald during that tournament. Donald was breathtakingly fast in those days. And he had a bouncer so swift and so hard to pick-up that the word ‘deadly’ was not just hyperbole. So it was some surprise when Zarawani sauntered to the crease in the game against South Africa wearing only a sun hat. 

Zarawani was trying to make some statement about his team’s courage and ignored all attempts to convince him to see sense.

Donald is no bloodthirsty monster. He’s actually rather pleasant. But he’s a professional and he knew that he couldn’t let this amateur take liberties.

So, after a chat with his team-mates, he ran in to bowl to Zarawani. It was a perfect bouncer and it struck Zarawani on the head. The batsmen fell down and, for a moment, Donald thought he had killed him Fortunately Zarawani was as tough as he was brave. He clambered to his feet and, still helmetless, struggled on for another six (scoreless) deliveries before losing his wicket. 

What’s the point of all this? Well, the point is: money doesn’t necessarily guarantee success. But there is a danger that British success in the Olympics might fool people into thinking otherwise. They will point to the Lottery-funded medals won in cycling, rowing and sailing (and ignore the lack of medals in athletics) and conclude that if we pour more money into cricket, we’ll be more successful.

It is not necessarily so. While I don’t deny there is a role for some coaches, and I don’t deny that good facilities can help a player’s development, I fear that we are wasting huge sums on facilities and coaches that, more often than not, are irrelevant. Indeed, I have come to the conclusion that poor coaches – and there are lots of them – do more harm than good.

Every so often I attend PR events in schools and parks across the country. At a recent one, I was shown some stumps painted on a playground wall. Hundreds of thousands of pounds have been invested in such well-intentioned schemes in the hope that it will encourage kids to play more cricket. But, while I hope such schemes prove successful, they are, I fear, a complete waste of money. I can’t help reflecting on my own school days. It was the likes of Ian Botham that inspired my generation to take up the game. We didn’t need stumps painted on a wall. We used trees or lamp posts. We were keen, so we made do.

Now consider the ‘pace’ and ‘spin’ events at the National Performance Centre this summer. Some of the most talented young players in the country were invited to a three-day event where they could “receive input from coaches and former players”. It turned out there were 14 coaches on hand offering their opinions, observations and advice.

Imagine being a young player hearing 14 differing opinions on what you should do next. I can’t think of a more certain way of screwing a player up.

So often I’ve talked to players who warn about the dangers of coaching. Read about Jimmy Anderson’s experiences on page 54 of this issue. Or check Rikki Clarke’s comments from last December. Again and again, coaches interfere, leaving the player worse. Could Muralitharan, Pietersen or Malinga have emerged in England? I think not. They’d have had the originality and spark crushed out of them. While the best coaches enthuse and encourage, suggesting changes only occasionally, in England we have a surfeit of meddlers.

It’s telling, I think, that Ashley Giles (a future England coach, I am sure) refers to himself as “a facilitator” while Terry Jenner (Shane Warne’s ‘coach’) refers to himself as a “gift enhancer.” “We don’t create anybody,” he says, “we just help them get the best out of their gift.”

If only all coaches were so wise. Many, however, go into the profession only because they reach the end of their playing careers without any other options and the administration of the game is geared towards creating employment opportunities for past players. 

A lot of great cricketers have managed without coaches or great facilities. Don Bradman practised by hitting a golf ball against a wall with a cricket stump; Shane Warne has suggested that a childhood accident that resulted in him spending a year paddling himself around in a cart, contributed to his freakishly strong hands, wrists and shoulders. Coaching had nothing to do with it.

In Pakistan and West Indies, generations of cricketers learnt their skills playing on streets and beaches with make-do bats and balls. They didn’t need sponsorship deals, dieticians or video analysis. They had talent, enthusiasm and inspiration.

And there’s the rub. For the thing that money will never buy is inspiration. And this is the real lesson from the Olympics.

The BBC sent around 440 people to Beijing at a cost of around £3million. Very good their coverage was, too. But why do they insist, once every four years, on wall-to-wall coverage of sports that, most of the time, few people care about? 

The fact that the BBC has shown more Keirin (the cycling event where the riders chase behind a fellow on a moped; in Birmingham they call it mugging) than cricket in the last year is a disgrace.

Sky, meanwhile, have agreed another £300 million deal to cover English cricket. The limited accessibility of their coverage may not be ideal, but their commitment can’t really be questioned. You can’t say that about the BBC. Despite a budget of £4 billion a year, most of which comes from license fees, they failed even to bid for cricket rights. That is a shocking dereliction of duty. Their output is now limited to ‘listed events’ which, to be fair, they cover superbly, or events of so little interest that nobody else bids. Bearing in mind the commercial head start they have, that’s pathetic. They’re not keeping their side of the deal.

More importantly, it’s damaging. Sending coaches into schools won’t inspire anyone. Nor will painting stumps on walls. It is performances by the likes of Pietersen and Flintoff that will inspire another generation of player and, equally importantly, supporters. 

But, without free-to-view cricket on our screens, more than half the children in the UK will grow up without the opportunity to see such players in action. No amount of money or well-meaning coaching schemes, can make up for that.