My day training with KP
Lager. Curry. Three hours sleep. Not the best preparation for pre-season training, but it’s in this rather wretched state that I turn up at Hampshire’s Rose Bowl for my latest challenge.
I’m already fretting over heart attacks, muscles strains and initiation ceremonies that involve the chaps debagging me on the outfield when the prime specimens of athleticism doing their stretches, warm-ups and whatnots come into view. I start to wonder whether I’ve made the right decision in agreeing to all this. After all, the last time I broke into a jog was 12 years ago – and that was when I tripped coming out of the all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet.
But it’s too late to worry about this now as I’m soon being ferried to a Southampton sports ground with the rest of the squad – the dismal March weather preventing the planned on-field training – and gingerly pulling on a tracksuit.
I don’t let the hoots that greet me as I make my way on to the running track in the trusty deerstalker put me off – Pietersen: “What are you doing, mate?” Kemp: “It’s too ridiculous to explain – and am quickly into my stride in the circuit training.”
At least I’m not last. I tell fellow straggler Derek Kenway that I’m rather pleased to be keeping up with him, what with him being a pro athlete… I can’t be as unfit as I first thought. Derek tells me he’s just getting over pneumonia. Confidence starts to ebb.
At the front of the pack, new boy Pieterson is impressing coach Paul Terry and we soon move on to the sprints. A couple of these and I’m wheezing like an old pair of bellows. Surely I’m not alone. Alan Mullally, well-known as Mr Laidback, can’t enjoy all this, can he? “I trained with the SAS when I was in Australia, actually.” Groan. “I was doing four-and-a-half minute miles, bench pressing 120 kilos… but this winter I’ve just lived on a diet of lager and cigars.” Oh? This sounds more promising… “And I’ve walked every fitness test so far. You explain that one to me!”
So you enjoy all this training do you? “Well, it helps you look good on the beach,” he says wistfully, looking around the drizzly track.
A female hurdler on the other side of the track seems to be attracting some attention. “You’ve got to be fit to catch her up and ask her out,” someone mutters. And they’re off on the long runs again with even more determination. I’m having trouble though, and when my joints start creaking like an old gate I realise it’s time to stop. Terry, who has been watching me with a combination of contempt and bafflement, perks up visibly.
Back at the Rose Bowl, as the fellas eat their specially prepared lunches with all the correct calorific content, the air fills with talk of stomach crunches. But I’m left wondering what happened to the players who turned up for games with just a bat and a packet of fags.
Surely ex-England spinner Shaun Udal, in the game almost 20 years, remembers a time before all this training madness. “Oh yes” he says. “I remember when all we did was jog up the avenue. We did a bit of batting, went to the Golden Lion for pie and chips, then did a bit of bowling in the afternoon.”
God, I wish I’d come in those days.
“But we’re so fit now,” says Udal. “You have to be in the modern game. Of course there were people like David Gower who could just turn up and play, but most of us have to work at our game. Take Robin Smith: he was a fantastic trainer. Always playing squash, working on hand/eye -co-ordination. But his brother Chris was one of the laziest trainers I’ve ever seen. Funny isn’t it?”
He nods at the players, eager for more, padded up and going into the indoor nets. “That’s important too. You can’t lose your cricket skills. All this running and weights might give us muscles that look good in the nightclub, but they’re no good if you don’t work on your cricketing basics”. Behind him, Alan Mullally absent-mindedly smoothes his hair and inspects his bicep…
Even young players like Michael Brown have seen changes in training techniques over the years. “When I was with Middlesex a few seasons ago, all they did was get us to run up the steps at Alexandra Palace. But the fitness levels at this county are so high now,” he says. “We’ve got rid of the ‘Happy Hampshire’ tag where we were said to enjoy ourselves a bit too much, if you know what I mean…”
Which reminds me: no Shane Warne here today – he’s helping Australia to beat New Zealand again – but does he enjoy these sort of training sessions? “Well, like every other genius, training and diet aren’t exactly top of his list, but you’ll find him doing four weeks on the Special K diet…” says Brown. “He’ll always get involved in the training. He knows how important it is to help build team spirit. Like last week, we all trained with the army at Sandhurst. It was brilliant. Up at 6am, training with the Ghurkas, carrying these huge rucksacks on our backs. Lawrence Prittipaul thought he was running through a puddle and found himself up to his chest in water. Brilliant!”
Really? As another zealous player bounds towards the gym, I’m starting to feel I’m surrounded by crazymen. Relishing being bellowed at by a Ghurka, up to your armpits in water? They ask if I want to join them in the gym. I make my excuses and leave.
