About my new fable: THE RED BALL
My sporting fables have mainly been about football. But in cricket, proper cricket, there is much to explore.
Traditional red-ball cricket is a beautiful game that has been compromised by those who are meant to be custodians. My forthcoming fable The Red Ball (later this week) uses the subtleties of the game and how it reflects life, via a teenage Indian cricketer trying to cope with a difficult summer in England.
Even cricket agnostics tend to appreciate the sights and sounds of a match taking place, with cricketers in white, and a red ball. They can do this driving or walking past a village green, they don’t have to be settled into a deckchair for the day!
The satisfying depths of red ball cricket, with its mental and physical tests, were encapsulated by the wonderful World Test Championship final that has just taken place at Lord’s. South Africa beat Australia in a match with a meandering narrative over three and a bit days.
The crucial session involved two South African batters – Markram and captain Bavuma, batting with intelligence, perspective and restraint, nudging the game away from the Aussies. There were no fireworks, no shouting, no recklessness, no impatience. Just calm application. The game, and the way it was won, was an antidote to the frantic pace of the modern world. It had time to breathe.
So why do I feel the red ball game has been compromised, to the point of being vandalised? I’ll use my food/meals analogy if I may!
‘One-day cricket’ I see as a ‘starter’. I’ve grown increasingly fond of 50-over per side cricket in comparison to the shorter forms.
Red-ball cricket, mainly Test matches is the traditional, purest and in my view best form of the game. A main course. Often (not always) sumptuous. There are flavours and subtleties to remember. I would honestly say nearly all of my favourite fifty memories from cricket history are in this form of the game. The exceptions being the 2019 World Cup final and the dramatic 1999 semi at Edgbaston.
This era of cricket has been dominated by dessert. We are asked to gorge on T20 matches or even shorter forms, such as the lucrative but oft-maligned English tournament The Hundred (literally 100 balls per team, changing cricket conventions).
There is nothing wrong with having short forms of the game like this, and it makes money for counties and national associations. But this is the franchise era. And that means mercenary players travelling the world to play in what are essentially meaningless tournaments. As usual in sport, money talks. It’s about greed. So there are too many matches, too many tournaments. And it’s affected the rest of the meal. For cricket lovers like me, it’s been difficult to digest.
Who can blame a young up and coming player now for specialising in T20 cricket batting (innovative, sometimes ugly shots) and bowling (eschewing normal lengths and speeds for damage limitation)? The short form, the white ball, is where the money is. Players fly around the globe, along with veteran white ball ‘specialists’, no longer trying to make a success of themselves in red ball.
Part of the problem with trying to have an intelligent debate about cricket’s missteps is the wildly successful and influential IPL (Indian Premier League). Criticism of its success and influence can lead to suggestions of having a national bias or agenda, despite personally feeling I have a neutral outlook.
The IPL could easily continue to be the biggest tournament in the world if it was tweaked and shortened. But it is played every day for two months with over 60 games and ten franchises. It’s too long. Taking a big chunk out of the cricket schedule. It should be pruned. It won’t be. Because there’s a huge appetite for it from the Indian public. And that brings the money and the stars. I don’t blame the IPL. I blame cricket’s governing body for serving up too much dessert in the global calendar for at least a decade.
The Red Ball is about a young cricketer named Rav, a special talent. Through Rav’s story I’ve explored my theory that cricket reflects a fundamental truth in life – that it is wise to be positive rather too defensive or reckless. This approach can help in the difficult times.
Rav struggles when asked to transfer his blossoming talent to the English summer at the age of just 16. But he finds a way. Whatever advice he receives from experienced people around him, the best way he can get out of the funk is with his own application and method. In red-ball cricket.
The environment and pressure, the opponents, the conditions, even the weather, are why red-ball cricket lives up to the name, a unique test of skill and mental strength, the ebb and flow, the power struggle between bowlers and batsmen.
I’ve always appreciated red-ball cricket, but this summer I’m finding it more soothing than ever before. I will be hooked by England v India Test series (starting Friday, June 20). The series starts under the shadow of the horrific air crash in Ahmedabad and my deepest condolences to the families and friends of all those affected by the tragedy.
With my fables I’ve found I can tell truths beyond my factual reporting. I hope The Red Ball is written with the subtleties of Test cricket. I’ve allowed it to breathe and unfold at a slower pace than some of my fables. It felt fitting. I also hope you can imagine being in Rav’s shoes, facing his demons, and willing him to succeed.
Finally, I hope the red ball reminds you that in cricket and life, when you’re facing bad times, they may not last. The sun can break through, and as happens with Rav, better times may come.
Lee Wellings is an author, sports journalist and broadcaster for BBC, ITN, Sky News and other global media organisations. His book Football Fables is available now. New online fables and articles are available with a subscription to ‘The Sports Specialist’ and a monthly fee is available should you want to try it first. Lee recommends the annual subscription which is less money per month (around $3).