Matt Cleary
Ten nightwatchmen who (mostly) went above their call of duty
Scorer of the greatest watchmen innings of all time - 201 not out against Bangladesh, the most ridiculous innings ever. Yet analysts of nightwatchmen - and they are out there, extrapolating the numbers - feel that Jason Gillespie's 26-run, 165-ball vigil on a dusty Chennai track in 2004 against Harbhajan Singh and Anil Kumble was the more meritorious watchmen-esque innings. In nine innings as a "watchie" Gillespie lasted 425, 165, 145, 79, 73, 71, 43, 34 and 5 balls, doing the crease-occupation job for his team on all but one occasion.
Pakistan's Nasim-ul-Ghani was the first nightwatchman to score a century when he amassed 101 against England at Lord's in 1962. Controversy rages (well, perhaps not rages) about the allrounder's status as a watchman given that he later opened the batting for Pakistan. But overall he averaged 16.6 in his 29 Tests - and in this match went in ahead of better-credentialed batsmen - which make for better than reasonable credentials for inclusion in this club.
Australian legspinner Tony Mann was the second nightwatchman to score a Test hundred when he scored 105 against India in Perth in 1977-78. After coming in at No. 3 with Australia 13 for 1, Mann lasted 165 balls and a nudge over three hours, his innings the cornerstone of Australia's successful 342-run chase.
Cricketers who could also swing a club or a foot or two
In the years immediately following World War II, with the Don nearing retirement and Neil Harvey a pup, Compton was one of the best batsmen in the world. And so he published a book entitled How To Play Association Football, an instructional tome about the things he'd learned playing left wing for Arsenal. In 54 games he scored 15 goals and helped the Gunners to a 2-0 win over Liverpool in the 1950 FA Cup. Over roughly the same period he played 78 Tests for England and scored 5087 runs at 50.06.
Hard to imagine the great six-foot-three wombat-bearded Englishman flying over the jumps on a hot lap, but before he was known as "The Doctor", Grace was a champion 400m hurdler. A naturally athletic man, Grace trained for cricket and athletics by running around with the beagles on fox hunts. Aged 18 he scored 224 not out for England in a game against Surrey, leaving halfway through to win an England quarter-mile hurdle championship at Crystal Palace.
After a decade of dismantling Test bowling attacks and racking up batting numbers like an incredible Abacus with arms, the Don decided to take up competitive squash and promptly won the 1939 South Australian squash championship. He was also excellent at billiards, competitive at tennis, and even as he went into his 80s often "broke his age" at Adelaide's Kooyonga Golf Club. And all because he used to whack a golf ball against a corrugated iron water tank with a cricket stump. Kids, your lesson is clear: get out and start whackin'.
Let us compile a list of the most implausible reasons shall we?
- He wasn't allowed to use Snicko
- He doesn't trust Hot Spot, considering it new-fangled elec-trickery
- He doesn't trust his eyes nor his ears
- He didn't want to disagree with the on-field umpire, thinking it might be rude
- He was watching Transformers 3: Dark of the Moon
- He was crocheting a massive throw rug
- He had nipped out to buy the newspaper and cigarettes
- He had been kidnapped by extremists and his body replaced with a felafel
- He'd had a drug overdose and was "on the nod", brought back to life only after an injection of adrenaline into his heart, like that bit in Pulp Fiction
- He hit the wrong button
- He is not actually a Test cricket umpire but rather a plumber from Hull
- He agreed Khawaja was out
For Australia, it's a time of bitter introspection about what has gone wrong
The DRS has opened up a whole other barrel of monkeys with machine guns, hasn't it?
He doesn't do enough in the air or off the pitch - except for when he does
Thought only selectors make shocking picks? How about having no frontline spinner for the first Ashes Test?
Ask a few of the kilt-raising, cricket-hating Scots who met him in Worcester in 1999 and they'd agree wholeheartedly with the assessment
A team featuring an Oxford graduate, a farm boy from Dungog, and an artistic wicketkeeper. And Shane Warne
In the World Cup in 1975, Jeff Thomson was bowling faster than anyone ever had and he sent Sri Lanka's Sunil Wettimuny and Duleep Mendis to hospital after hitting the first on the head and smashing the second's instep with his famous "sandshoe crusher". But opener Fernando decided on a novel approach to self-preservation: "I kept smiling at Thomson, hoping to keep him in a good mood." It might not have worked but Fernando walked off unscathed (though he was bowled by Thomson for 22).
While he could kill entire stadiums with batting more boring than the creep of prehistoric moss, Boycott realised it was impossible to score runs when you weren't at the crease. This, curiously, is not obvious to all batsmen. Boycott, though, learned how to occupy the crease. And occupy it. And continue occupying it until the United Nations needed to send in tanks to remove him. Boycott saw his role as a batsman as being around long enough to ensure his team did not lose. Significantly, of his 108 Tests, only 20 ended in defeat.
With his fingers steepled like those of a cunning, ruthless and evil train baron, Jardine devised field placements and bowling methods so cunning, ruthless and evil that they halved Bradman's batting average and won England the 1932-33 Ashes 4-1. Bodyline - or "fast leg theory" as Jardine called it - was so effective it was outlawed. Yet in 1933, Jardine scored 127 - his only Test century - against a West Indies team that was employing these very tactics. So Jardine proved himself smart enough to employ Bodyline and also beat it. He also went to Oxford and learned things.
It's important to attend a game or two for the sake of your health and happiness. Get to it