CRICKET: Jon Swift
THE enduring memory of this summer’s cricket will be an incident on the boundary ropes rather than any of the truly exciting things which happened out in the middle.
It was the sight of Fanie de Villiers in the middle of the Kingsmead Test following the umpires and their lightmeters off the strip. De Villiers never made it past the boundary ropes. The eyes sparkled, the grin flashed, the autograph hunters descended. Fanie was in his element.
The rest of the side signed and then trudged up to the changeroom. Fanie borrowed a camp stool, sat down and pressed two willing youngsters into service as runners. Then he signed and joked, smiled and signed as the umpires — and their lightmeters — trooped backwards and forwards across the deserted turf.
That hour at the perimeter of the ground in Durban was as joyous a moment — and as spontaneous — as anything the side did all summer. And lent an unforced exclamation point to the uncomplicated involvement De Villiers has in everything and everybody involved with the glorious game of cricket.
“I enjoyed it,” was his simple explanation of the time he spent away from what must have been a beckoning shower and a beer he really needed after a long day’s toil. Fanie is a one-off in many ways.
Yet, he will be the first to tell you that cricket is a team game, the initiator of the train of thought which lays much of the emphasis on his success at luck’s door, but no single player has typified more fully the joyous nature of this country’s cricketing resurgence than De Villiers.
This is echoed by coach Bob Woolmer. “If everyone worked as hard as Fanie …” he is on record as saying, leaving the rest of the thought hanging for more general contemplation.
Perhaps the only fault De Villiers has shown in this truly golden summer is, as the parliamentarians would have it, a somewhat economical use of the truth.
“I was just lucky enough to be there to get a couple of wickets at the end of the innings,” is the way the huge- hearted Pretoria seamer put his Man of the Match contribution in the Test against Pakistan.
This dismissive comment belies the De Villiers influence on a match which netted him 10 wickets for 108 and an unbeaten — and sparkling — 66 in the first dig. True, it was against an attack which lacked the bite and fire of the injured Waqar Younis — the ter
ror of the tailenders worldwide — and suffering from Wasim Akram not bowling to his full magnificent potential.
But, that said, take nothing away from De Villiers with the bat in his hand on that momentous day. He was clearly a man in love with the game. The sheer joy encapsulated in that knock was well worth the watching.
And the plaudits of the packed crowd which followed were fully deserved. The watchers in the stands were seeing yet another chapter in this summer’s making of a sports folk hero.
There was more to come from De Villiers. Enough with the ball in his hand to deservedly rocket him to number four in the world rankings as a bowler.
More important than the bare statistics though is the fact that the wickets De Villiers netted in this incredible 10-wicket haul were invariably the important ones.
His two-over devastation of the top three in the Pakistani first innings was the lynch pin. It would have taken more than Salim Malik’s injury and argument riven side had in them to come back from that.
The same was true in the Pakistani rearguard second innings. It was again De Villiers who made the vital breakthrough at the front end, snuffing out any threat from the dangerous Aamir Sohail, having him for a duck through a fine catch at slip from the massive Brian McMillan. To this he added the vital wicket of Malik and finally broke the back of any fifth-day resistence by nabbing Inzamam-ul-Haq five runs short of the century mark.
That De Villiers, even if he has turned 30, is already contemplating retirement is a sadness that should be delayed as long as possible.
Not just for the joyous intensity he brings to the game and the side he is willing to burst a blood vessel for. “The captain has to take the ball away from him,” is the way Woolmer typifies the willingness of the man for work.
Neither alone for the strength of character and heart he undoubtedly injects into the side.
But equally for the little time-consuming gestures that help cement the love for the game so intrinsic to his nature into the hearts of the schoolkids who so roundly adore him.
Just one small request Fanie. No-one questions your inate respect and politeness, but please don’t call me oom!