I felt saddened to read of Jimmy Anderson’s pre-Test whinge about the ICC. A gifted swing bowler, recently ranked two in the world and on the cusp of becoming England’s greatest Test wicket-taker, he explicitly blamed the ICC for curbing his ‘natural aggression’ following the infamous ‘jostling’ incident with Ravi Jadeja last year.
No doubt he sought to brush aside his dreadful World Cup performances as he prepared for his 100th cap and he could easily have put them down to, say, poor form, unhelpful pitches or the irresistible Brendon McCullum. But no. It’s all the fault of the nasty ICC who may be watching him in case he aims more acts of unnecessary violence or foul-mouthed sledging towards opponents.
I used to have some respect for Anderson who worked hard at progressing from a decent but injury-prone fast bowler into one of the most devastating exponents of swing, bettered only by Dale Steyn. However, his comments merely smack of the school bully complaining about a disciplinarian headmaster spoiling his ‘fun’.
There was more sadness at the news of Richie Benaud’s death from skin cancer at the age of 84. His playing career, during which he was a devastating wrist spinner and a brilliant captain for Australia, came before my time. However, his trademark introduction (“Morning, everyonnnnne”) and wonderful laconic commentary made him one of the most unforgettable voices in sport and provided a true soundtrack of distant summer afternoons watching the BBC’s TV cricket coverage in the ‘70s, ‘80s and ‘90s.
Along with the likes of Jim Laker and Tom Graveney, Richie knew when to speak and when to shut up and let the pictures do the talking. The manic screeching you get from the current Channel 9 mob or the IPL crew makes me long for a time when cricket could be enjoyed without being assailed by constant commercials or told the bleedin’ obvious by commentators. I’ve no doubt that Shane Warne, David Lloyd and others know their stuff, and they can be genuinely entertaining, but when Richie spoke, you listened and smiled at his dry turn of phrase.
If a batsman produced a devastating hook for six or unleashed a crisp drive to the extra cover boundary, there’s no need to shout a description of the ball’s speed and distance into the crowd when a simple “Marvellous” says it all.
No doubt this week in the West Indies, Anderson will unleash more verbals at batsmen and surpass the bowling achievements of another fiery predecessor, Sir Ian Botham, but in a contest with the Aussie great for who best represents cricket, the spirit as much as the voice – for any generation – there is simply no contest. Richie was the master. Marvellous.
