How Did Warnie Convince Us That Leg Spin Was A Good Idea?

Thanks to Rob Thirlwell for this great piece on the travails of an amateur leg spinner…

Every aspect of the game of cricket is challenging. Whether you play on your local village green or at test level you are going to fail far more often than you succeed. There is no harder aspect of the game to master than that of leg spin bowling . You would have to be mad to attempt it. Trying to release a ball out of the back of your hand, whilst imparting sideways movement on it is a crazy enough concept, but that’s only half the battle. You then have to land it in an area no more than a square foot, and if you miss that on either side you’ve either bowled a full toss or a long hop. If it’s too cold you don’t have enough feeling in your fingers to let it go, too hot and you’re too sweaty to hold onto it for long enough.

No captain at an amateur level has trust in their leg spinner. Yes they might grab you a bonus wicket, but if they bowl two bad balls they are off, consigned to another week stood at fine leg watching others, who ply a far safer trade , bowl over after over. It is a pursuit fraught with fear and fragility. Men and women have crumbled under the psychological pressure that results from the pursuit of this uniquely difficult art form. So why then, do so many cricketers still roll out leggies week after week, season after season? For those who started to play after 1993 there can be only one reason, Shane Warne.

In the winter of 2006 to 2007 I was in the early throws of a long and rather tumultuous relationship with the game of cricket. Images of England’s catastrophic Ashes series were beamed around the world into my television screen in the UK. I was struck by a variety of things; Haydos’s power, Ponting’s swivel pull and the pace of Lee. But there was something so mesmerising about watching Warne let go of the ball. How on earth could somebody do that? It went up and down as if it were on a piece of string, all the while the seam rotated perfectly. As it would land the whites of the batter’s eyes glared through the television screen, their fear was palpable. Which way is this going to spin? Could it be a wrong’un? A flipper? Who knows? They all prodded and poked, the master had them tied around his little finger. It was mind-blowing to think that someone who could release the ball at only fifty miles per hour could strike more fear into the heart batters than the bowler at the other end bow ling at ninety. From then on I was hooked.

One of the hardest things about being a leg spinner is trying to wrestle back moments in play when the batter is on top. Leggies are unable to use pace to spark fear, they can’t aim at the badge of the batter’s helmet. A lack of intimidation was never a problem for Warne. His flared trousers, flamboyant boots, electric blonde mop of hair and the slosh of zinc on his nose combined to create one of sport’s most iconic looks. He delivered sledges like no other, with complete confidence and certainty and all the ability in the world to back it up. He may have been aware of the potential pitfalls of bowling leg spin, but you could never tell. Each ball was a performance. Ripping the ball out of his right hand, way above his head, catching it in his left, all the while staring the batsmen dead in the eye. A look of malice mixed with excitement would spread across his face as he began to stroll in, then a trot, then a jump and then, magic .

———–

Fear engulfs me as I stand at the top of my mark. Every time, without fail. Anything could happen. Could be a double bouncer, could be a beamer, who knows? These accidents, of which I have been prone to many, are the basis for my recurring nightmares. Watching clips of Warne are the only thing to remedy the fear. I try to place myself in his shoes and be brave. When things went badly for him, he would bounce in, flight it higher and rip it harder. He was a beacon to every young leg spinner and the leader of a strange, flawed, yet hopeful brotherhood.

He convinced thousands that this crazy pursuit was worth the weekly humiliation, pain and fear. For us mere mortals the handful of balls that we have landed in our lifetime have made it a passion worth following. Warne could do it so often. He had no right to execute this impossible skill so regularly and with such enthusiasm.

It is strange to think a man I never met, from the other side of the world has had such an impact on my life. I imagine this sentiment will be shared by countless others. There have been millions of balls spun in hope, endless half trackers and full tosses delivered, oceans of tears shed, occasional balls landed creating wild exhilaration and unrivalled joy, all because of one man, Shane Keith Warne.

Rob Thirlwell

Related