Neil Manthorp : Cricket
Mike Rutherford of the music band Mike and the Mechanics wrote a moving tribute to his late father called The Living Years. It became a hit in most of the world, including South Africa. Hansie Cronje, the South African cricket captain, enjoys the song very much indeed and has included the track on a CD of his favourite tunes – Hansie’s Choice – which was recently released in South Africa.
Never having been used for a cheap publicity shot in a decade of life as a sports journalist, I’m not about to start now. But the CD happens to contain some of my favourite tunes, too, and I even gave my complimentary copy to a friend here in Australia (pretending I’d bought it for him for Christmas) with the full intention of buying myself another one when I return to Cape Town on February 5.
Among others, the collection includes Free Electric Band by Albert Hammond, Africa by Toto, The Crossing by Johnny Clegg, Where Peaceful Waters Flow by Chris de Burgh, Hold on Tight by the Electric Light Orchestra and an old (and slightly obscure, one-hit-wonder) favourite of mine called 99 Red Balloons by Nena. There are 18 songs in total and, in my opinion, there is not a bad one.
The friend I gave my free copy to was, in fact, a very amusing (and wickedly cynical) cricket writer for the News Limited Group called Robbert “Crash” Craddock.
Three days before Christmas “Crash” was still feeding his voracious readers with preview after preview after preview of the Boxing Day Test match in Melbourne. He has toured South Africa twice and has had several personal meetings with Cronje. However, what he thought he knew about the man was not entirely accurate. “Cronje’s idea of a wild night out is going to bed without his pyjama top on,” he wrote.
On Christmas Day “Crash” opened his gift and has not stopped listening to it since. “Bloody excellent,” is about as graphic as his review gets. “Sorry I wrote that stuff about him being boring …”
But back to The Living Years. The words are partly an attempt to exorcise the demons of bereavement that everybody has to come to terms with. The song explains the torment of losing someone close to you without having had the chance to say and do all the things you wanted to with that person. It is a moving reminiscence of “the living years” and a frustrated call for them to return. Of course, they don’t.
A year in sport can be a long time, let alone four years. But that is how long it will be before South Africa play Australia again. No matter how it may feel at the moment of defeat, sport is never, and never will be, a matter of life and death. But for the purposes of understanding the significance of South Africa’s crushing loss in the second Test in Sydney, The Living Years comes very close.
Shane Warne was brilliant, of course, and it would be easy to simply say: “We were run over by the greatest leg-spinner ever to play the game. He was unplayable and would have knocked any team over on the fourth day (when he took 6-34 to complete a match analysis of 11-109).”
Too easy because Warne’s final-day performance, as compelling as it was, accounted for about a quarter of the reason for defeat. If you doubt that, ask both Cronje and his opposite number, Mark Taylor. The overwhelming reason for defeat was South Africa’s inability to “seize the moment” on the first day of the match when they limped to 197-5 after winning the toss and batting first on a beautiful strip.
Remember, too, that Warne did not take a wicket on that first day and (almost) didn’t look like doing so. “We didn’t take our chances,” admitted Cronje afterwards. Ever since the team returned from Pakistan, Cronje has repeated the need for just one goal: “Totals of over 400 are a must in Australia,” he said time and again. “We know we can take 20 wickets -we know our attack is good enough because they have proved it over the last five years. The bowlers have got us out of trouble and now the time has come for the batsmen to pay them back with big totals that they can defend.”
It didn’t happen at Sydney, which is where South Africa needed it more than ever before. What happened is the most familiar story in sport – and life. From little Johnny who sings a cute song all year in front of mummy and daddy and then can’t do it when the whole family comes over for Christmas, to Jana Novotna, 5-2 up in the final set of the 1992 Wimbledon final, losing to Steffi Graf. The batsmen choked.
In the first innings at Sydney, with the wicket playing the best it ever would, they completely lost the (admittedly fragile) faith in themselves that had seen them escape with a series win in Pakistan. In the first two Tests in that country South Africa made 400. In all three first-class games of this tour, against Western Australia, Tasmania and Australia “A”, 400 was passed.
Scoring 400-plus runs in a Test match means you have made the game safe. You can’t lose (generally) and you usually have a good chance of winning. But the cracks in all three of those 400-plus totals in Australia were so wide it was embarrassing.
Gary Kirsten scored 200 and had to rely on a century from Shaun Pollock, batting at number seven, to reach safety. Against Tasmania Cronje’s 165 and a freakish Allan Donald 55 rescued the side from 126-6. Against Australia “A” the scoreboard read 236-7. Recoveries as big as that just don’t happen in Test cricket, not even to South Africa.
Adam Bacher left alone dangerous, potentially wicket-taking deliveries from Glenn McGrath and Paul Reiffel with rare skill. Unfortunately, he then started to leave everything that wasn’t going to hit the stumps, including half-volleys and long-hops from the Australian “part-timers” Greg Blewett, Steve and Mark Waugh and Michael Bevan.
Jacques Kallis was caught dozing at the non-striker’s end by Ricky Ponting. “That’s just Jacques,” may have been said the week before in Melbourne, but this time he had contributed to the loss of a Test match and probably a series. He is brilliant – but he must stay awake.
Cronje adopted an understandable “take my life before you take my wicket” approach but, admirable as it was, it merely handed the initiative to Taylor’s men. Cronje, coming in at number four after the justifiable but nonetheless disruptive dropping of Daryll Cullinan, had to show the opposition and the rest of his junior batsmen that he really believed in his own ability and that they should too.
Instead, the era of Kepler Wessels returned to haunt South African cricket. And the worst part about the whole episode, just like the song says, is that the players actually could have done something about it. If only they could have the time again. If only they could have that first innings again, if they could go out there and try to hit the bowling rather than leave it alone all the time. If only …
Instead, a generation of South African cricketers will retire knowing that they will never be able to say “We were the best. The best of our time.” Dave Richardson, Pat Symcox, Brian McMillan, Allan Donald, Daryll Cullinan and possibly Gary Kirsten and even Cronje might never have another chance.
Apologies once again for even daring to compare life and death with sport, but this is as close as losing a single game of cricket comes to a bereavement.
Meanwhile the Australian press had a field- day at the expense of Cronje after the captain refused to attend the post-match awards ceremony in Sydney. Make your own mind up, these are the facts.
Australian Cricket Board media officer Patrick Keane approached the captain after the loss in Sydney and asked him to attend the televised presentation. Cronje, having been told there was no ceremony after the first Test in Melbourne (which South Africa heroically saved against all the odds with Australia expecting victory) told Keane: “You set the tone in Melbourne. There was no presentation there, so why is there one now? I’m not coming.”
Australians have never been the world’s most gracious losers, but they sure know how to have a party when they win. Maybe Cronje should have gone, maybe not. From a South African point of view, maybe it was Cronje’s best “leave” of the whole match.
ENDS