Pete Langman
The charm of cricket's most unobtrusive participant
Wicketkeepers are only noticed when they fumble. But they are the real attention magnets - or ought to be
Pete Langman
26-May-2016
Every week, on these pages, in the pavilion and in pubs, cricketers recount their latest Homeric innings, that opening spell, occasionally that blinder of a catch. It's part and parcel of our game, and partly to parcel out warnings to the opposition: I'm on fire.
Achievement in cricket is Prufrockian, albeit not measured out in coffee spoons but in ones and twos. In this battle between bat and ball, when the irresistible challenges the immoveable, the casual observer would be forgiven for thinking that there are but two players who truly compete during any individual "play". As the batsmen come and go, the talk is of late swing, that perfect cover drive, that brutal lifter, that elegant late cut. The terminology to describe this cut and thrust abounds, and while those fielding are all too often relegated to the sidelines, it appears yet again that the beating heart of the team in the field has to work wonders to even get noticed. This is no more apparent than with Jonny Bairstow.
Bairstow's haul at Headingley last week is one of only 22 totals of nine or more catches in a Test - and only Mark Boucher, BJ Watling and Brad Haddin have, like Bairstow, achieved this twice. Compare this to the number of ten-wicket hauls for bowlers, or centuries, and it becomes clear just how special a performance this was. And yet the Man-of-the-Match award was won with a masterful century. The fact that it happened to have come from Bairstow's bat is yet more astonishing. Bairstow faced (with bat or gloves) 627 of the 1002 balls bowled in the Test, and languished at the non-striker's end for 160-odd. That's one hell of a contribution. As a bonus, remember that he took nine more catches than he conceded in byes.
Full postWhat's it like to be an ambidextrous cricketer?
A shoulder injury forced a cricketer to change his batting orientation - and even bat one-handed. He found it wasn't such a bad thing after all
Pete Langman
19-Jun-2015
"Left hand!" cried the wicketkeeper, announcing my orientation to all and sundry. This invoked the usual chorus of groans, jokes, and the Prufrockian coming and going of close fielders and square-leg umpire. Even the cows felt the urge to move. The bowler was dubious: "Since when have you been a lefty, Pete?"
The simple answer is I'm not. I wasn't then, and I never will be. I can, however, bat left-handed. As well as right-handed. And, on those occasions when I'm in long enough to choose, I sometimes switch during an innings. I wasn't born ambidextrous but made myself so after cricket's strange sinistralism was thrust upon me by a sporting injury. My left arm temporary disabled following reconstructive shoulder surgery, my options were simple, if stark: bat one-handed or do not bat.
Naturally, I chose one-handed. This one hand would be the hand that controls, the top hand. This one hand would be my right hand. My stance, therefore, was now that of a left-hand batter. Truly, it takes a game as idiosyncratic as cricket to deem a player not using their left hand to be left-handed.
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