The ire brigade: Bob Willis v Nasser Hussain
Ire, readers. That’s what I look for: ire. I want my broadcast pundits to sound like they mean it. The sight of Big Bob Willis haranguing Charles Colvile, voice cracking with raw rage has made England’s hapless post-2005 progress easier to bear. But is Willis running out of steam? Is it time for a younger, angrier man to step in? In this month of fiasco, the Pope of Mope went head-to-head with the chippy challenger Hussain…
Willis on England’s 51 all out
England’s third lowest all-out score in Test history? Willis seems initially resigned to their failure. But it’s not long before he gets the old chainsaw going: “What’s the effect going to be on Andrew Strauss?!” he sneers gleefully. “It must be the shortest honeymoon period in history for any England captain!”
Soon, he’s in full flow: “There’s a lot of work still to be done. I think it needs to be done in the head. They’re MENTALLY WEAK,” he rants. Not just are England hopeless – there’s no-one to replace them. Willis dismisses the Test claims of Rob Key and Joe Denly and moves on to rubbish the county game generally. Joined-up moaning. Not as easy as it looks
“Do they need to clear out the back-room staff?” host Ian Ward asks Willis. It’s a dolly. Willis responds as if ‘clearing out’ would be too good for England’s coaches and nothing short of public flogging would do. “There are more backroom staff than players now!” he points out. “Which I think is an absurd situation. The players don’t need all this pampering and molly-coddling. When you’re out in the searchlight in the middle… it’s down to you, mate.”
Willis warms to his theme. “Batting coaches! Bowling coaches! Fielding coaches!” he intones, as aghast as if England had taken lion-tamers and jugglers on tour with them. It’s not quite the Full Bob, but he’s grinding it out. Harmy? “I want to see him out of the side!” KP’s 97? “It isn’t good enough!”
“I call this batting unit ‘The untouchables’,” says Bob sadly of England’s cosy top six, before naming his XI for the next Test: “Well, I’m not going to pussyfoot around, Ian; you wouldn’t expect me to,” he promises, thrillingly (to me, anyway). “I want to make a clear statement here. I’m putting the Dumbslog Millionaire up to No 3; Bell carrying the drinks… and as for Steve Harmison,” he concludes, magnificently. “I’m afraid it’s back to the dartboard in the Ashington Working Men’s Club.”
Hussain on TV referrals
The best introduction to the Hussain ire oeuvre is his autobiography, in which he devotes whole chapters to the injustices of being short-changed in Spar 20 years ago. So when the TV referral system flopped in Barbados, it was, naturally, Hussain that sprinted down to the outfield to accost match referee Alan Hurst…
Hussain’s initial questions are brisk, efficient, even military. He sounds like he has well polished shoes. Question 3 – “I’ve got two pages of regulations on this. Why can’t the question be: ‘Listen, Daryl: is that out or not out” – sees him get mildly chippy; and his ire builds further with questions 4 and 5, about the ICC’s refusal to use the available technology.
But seasoned Hussain observers will spot question 6 as his cracking point: “I know you don’t to talk too much about specific decisions,” says Hussain, adding brilliantly: “But can you explain how Chanderpaul was given out?”
He should just leave it there. But no. He does a little finger-jabbing-at-lapel monologue. “Not by the on-field umpire by an off-field umpire who has technology available to him, who sees a new ball hit a batsman above knee-roll on a Barbados pitch. How can he, with all the time he has available, give that out?”
Hurst says the third umpire doesn’t give the batsman out.
Hussain asks the same question again, twice. Hurst tells him again that the third umpire doesn’t have the final say. He talks as if playing for time. He knows it’s all hopeless: the system is hopeless, Harper is hopeless. He probably doesn’t even have the cricket on his little TV; he’s probably watching the darts.
“The saddest thing about that decision was that a very good on-field umpire was overruled by a man off the field,” asserts Hussain, wrongly. He really is like the sports version of Mr Shake-hands man: he just asks the same question over and over until the interviewee decides he’s a lunatic and walks off. Hurst doesn’t walk off, but he does tell Hussain for the third time that the third umpire doesn’t have the final say.
Hussain’s microphone – which is all we can see of him – starts to shake with rage. “Finally,” he says, voice cracking triumphantly with ire. “Do you believe that Daryl Harper is competent enough to be third umpire in these situations?
Hurst refuses to comment.
Conclusion
It’s horses for courses. Hussain is the man you’d send round to the ask the neighbours to turn down their music (repeatedly). Willis is plainly the man to succeed Wogan on Eurovision. (“Nul points! And they were lucky to get nul, Charles!”). As England’s year of fiasco progresses, this could be the most fascinating contest of all.
