England, DEC ,12
Nietzsche said that he philosophised with a hammer. I am not sure what the opposite of that is; perhaps philosophising with a velvet glove. This latter is the style of cricket’s philosopher Mike Brearley, who writes with authority, but has no compulsion to drill everything into our heads. It is an order of certainty that requires no additional table-thumping.
The combination of gentleness and authority that made his The Art of Captaincy a timeless classic and promises to do the same for his more recent On Form continues to be the feature of his latest offering, a collection of his writings: Mike Brearley On Cricket. There is too a rare honesty and open-endedness that comes from a temperament trained in taking on board the other man’s point of view. Brearley recalls a match against boys much older and his fascination with a giant fast bowler who sent down a slower ball. He thought, “I wish he would bowl slower balls all the time.” It is the natural reaction of a ten-year-old. “This kind of feeling remained with me,” continues Brearley drily, “for much of the next thirty years.”
The essays tell us as much about one of the greatest captains and thinkers to have played the game, as about the issues and personalities in cricket. There is a section devoted to Indian batsmanship with essays on Ranji, Pataudi, Tendulkar and Kohli.
Admiration for Kohli
He admires Kohli and the manner in which he “lives by, and expects from his team, a strong work ethic.” He also describes a unique Kohli shot, the “top-spun drive” which requires “speed of vision and dexterity of wrists and hands.” Brearley is not blind to Kohli’s drawbacks. “To balance his own strength,” he says, “Kohli needs strong men around him.” The section on his heroes discusses Viv Richards, Bishan Bedi, Dennis Lillee, Michael Holding and Tom Cartwright.
The essays through the book are enriched by the wide literary references as well as nods to Brearley’s other areas of expertise, psychoanalysis and philosophy. He wears his learning lightly though, and this is a book about a captain and a cricketer revealing his passion for the sport in a manner that will fascinate both the long-time follower of the game and the newbie.
Story behind the D’Oliveira affair
The crises in the game are given play too: apartheid, the D’Oliveira affair, the protests in Zimbabwe, corruption (and cheating) in the game. There is the interesting revelation that the Cape Coloured cricketer Basil D’Oliveira was initially picked for England for the 1970 tour of South Africa, but the selection was rescinded by the MCC. He was then made a standby and finally chosen after a player dropped out. This led to the cancellation of the tour and South Africa’s isolation for over two decades.
Cheating is divided into the common or garden variety (claiming a catch when you know the ball has bounced, using illegal substances on the ball) and cheating the game itself (as opposed to cheating within the game).
Cricket-writing over the years has followed two strains: the romantic and the hard-boiled. The former, whose patron is Neville Cardus, saw the game as an idealistic, moral, idyllic, near-perfect meeting between teams conscious of the spirit and the deeper meaning of the word ‘cricket’. The Garden of Eden before the fall, if you will.
The latter, without formally setting itself up as a counterpoint, went in the opposite direction, claiming cricket was always a game of cheats and card-sharpers where the spirit was observed in the breach, and where the laws needed to constantly keep up with the law-breakers. The pre-Cardus school was largely like this. Angry newspaper columnists today sometimes hark back to it.
Brearley — like the best of the current writer-players like Mike Atherton, Ed Smith, Ian Chappell — belongs to neither extreme but is a realist. Brearley’s collection is nuanced, empathetic, and understanding of both human strengths and weaknesses. There is too the confidence to admit “I don’t know.”
Reflections on the Lever incident
Brearley toured India in 1976-77 when medium pacer John Lever was accused by the skipper Bedi of cheating. To prevent sweat running down the bowler’s face, the physiotherapist had suggested a gauze strip infused with Vaseline to be taped to his forehead.
“Was this cheating to aid swing?” asks Brearley. “Or was the aim simply to divert the sweat? I have never known the answer to this question. Was I, am I too naive? I was not involved in the discussions. But nor did I enquire too closely. Did I refrain from enquiry in case the truth might have been unpalatable?
“I am inclined to think the action was innocent, but certainly I should have made it my business to know; moreover, the plan should have been cleared in advance with the umpires.”
That paragraph captures the spirit of the book — events are sieved through the experiences of the writer, and while there may be some ambiguity in how he might have reacted, there is no ambiguity in the practical solutions.
