Each month GIDEON HAIGH writes about a favourite photograph of his
In the February edition of The Cricketer, the England and Wales Cricket Board’s new chairman Ian Watmore described becoming hooked on the game when his family found themselves living in the same Maidstone street as Derek Underwood: “I knocked on his door when I was 10 with my little autograph book and he was so kind…”
It is an appealing story, because we all have our tales of brushing past greatness, even if they’ve moved with the times (“You’ll never guess who was standing at the next urinal. It was Michael Vaughan – he was tweeting with the other hand, of course….”)
What was unusual about Watmore’s story was Underwood giving him direct attention; usually the scenario is more like Patrick Eagar’s glimpse of Jason Gillespie attending to a ragged queue of autograph hunters at the Australians’ tour match versus PCA Masters at Arundel 16 years ago.
His locks are unshorn, his shirt untucked, his bootlace undone, his sunglasses superfluous in the milky English sun, his gaze elsewhere; his partial attention is mirrored in that of his patient petitioners, with a ragged array of bats, mini-bats, programmes and paraphernalia to endorse. A listless father looks like he’s trying to sneak in ahead of the cluster of juniors probably in the process of collecting the full suite of Australian signatures. OK, so they’ve got Gillespie, but will they be able to get Ponting, McGrath, Warne etc?
The inside track: Feeling the blues about Varsity demise
There is a classic 1972 photograph of Richard Nixon on the campaign trail. Although his right hand is clasped in the meaty paw of a delighted well-wisher, the president is focused entirely at the watch on his left wrist. A small part of him is performing a tiresome but necessary chore for a fixed period of time; the greater part is elsewhere, ticking seconds down, rationing his energies for more important schemings to come.
So, too, Gillespie, who was not even playing in this friendly T20, comfortably won by the visitors to set in motion what it was quietly anticipated would be another pageant of Australian success. He is thinking about…..well, what exactly? Some action that his eye has caught? A cry from the middle? The murmur in the crowd? The prospect of a beer? It is only cricket’s contests that require undivided intensity; the rest of the time we can get by; we can wander and waver.
A few days later, Gillespie will come on to bowl in Australia’s first T20I against England. The umpires will tell him that his team are three overs behind the required rates; he will come in off a shortened run and be belted for 49 from four overs. It will be a first step towards the loss of his accustomed place in the Australian XI, which found itself that summer under unexampled pressure.
After the tour Gillespie will play only two further Tests, and defect to the Indian Cricket League, from which he will have to work a passage back in order to establish himself as a coach. Though the time of the day we see him here is vague and viscous, he has less of it than he thinks.
This article was published in the May edition of The Cricketer - the home of the best cricket analysis and commentary, covering the international, county, women's and amateur game