Neil D'Costa, known for the years
he has spent coaching Michael
Clarke as well as for his work with
Phil Hughes and Mitchell Starc,
gave a barbed little interview to the
Sydney Morning Herald recently,
pointing out various "fundamental
flaws" in the "non-negotiable
basics" of Australia's top order.
Such is the depth of Australia's
trauma, another filleting with the
knives of the press barely
registered, although D'Costa had a
few hurtful zingers in his
armoury. Yet this was a piece that
could be read another way, too,
because it was a story that said
something about modern coaching.
We are about to enter the second
age of the coach. The professional
game is reaching an apex of
analysis as science reveals more of
the physical realities of batting and
bowling. It's not quite golf – yet –
but it will be one day. As players
become highly priced freelance
contractors, why wouldn't they
employ a personal coach to micro-
manage each aspect of their game?
And why would those coaches not
become high-earning mini-celebs
in their own right? Golf after all
has its swing gurus and its putting
specialists, its mind-managers and
its conditioning champions.
As in golf, a new language is
developing to describe function
and form, a mix between
management-speak and pop-
science. D'Costa's piece is studded
with it: he talks about "kinetic
flow" and the "entry and exit
points" of various shots. Yet at
heart, this new language is another
way of analysing principals that are
as old as the game.
D'Costa offers this jargon-heavy
paragraph on David Warner:
"Warner has what in swing
mechanics is called a reverse
swing. His weight is distributed as
if he's a right-handed batsman
facing the wicketkeeper. The
shoulder facing the bowler is high
when, in fact, it should be lower at
the time the ball is released. That
would enable Warner to enter his
shots with the correct weight shift
and put his nose over the little toe
on his front foot. What I see is
Warner's leaning back. That allows
him to cut easily but, when he
comes forward, his balance is off.
Having too much weight leaning
back also makes him susceptible to
lbw when the ball is swinging."
Or as my taciturn former coach Jim
Cameron would say: "lean into the
ball" (or "lean into the (No Swearing Please) ball"
– he was Australian) .
D'Costa on Shane Watson: "Watson
has a similar shoulder angle and
alignment problem to Warner. He
shifts his weight back when he sets
up. Watson is a big build, so it's
worth comparing him to Kevin
Pietersen or Jacques Kallis, who
each get their front shoulders
down and stand slightly open at
release so they can lean into the
ball, chin-forward."
Or, get your head over the the ball.
On Brad Haddin: "You cannot
recalibrate your judgment if you
move your head and Haddin moves
his head around, both when he's
batting and wicketkeeping. Like
Khawaja, he drops head when
batting and keeping, losing
milliseconds of vision."
Keep your head still.
On Usman Khawaja: 'He breaks
rule No1 – keep your head still.
He's tracking the ball by dropping
his head. After his dismissal in the
second innings of the fourth Test,
Nasser Hussain asked 'How did he
miss that?' The answer is, he
dropped his head before the ball
arrived and was looking at the
ground instead of the ball. Until he
changes that habit and is able to
track the ball in and out with his
head still, the rest doesn't matter.'
Watch the ball.
We're at a juncture, as the late Bob
Woolmer pointed out in the title of
his magesterial book, of the Art
and Science of Cricket. The
fundamental principals of the game
have been known to every player
since the age of Grace. Science is,
at the moment, engaged in
explaining why the art works. It
has value, and as the demands of
its formats drive further, richer
evolution of its methods, it will
have a widening area of study.
But the odest lessons should
always be learned first, and they
don't need decorating. Watch the
ball. Keep your head still. Hit it
when it's under your nose. The
song remains the same.
thank you to jon hotton for these wise words