This is in the guardian today and sums up my views. It is almost as if he read my twitter rant at Selvey two nights ago, why he was spouting some rubbish about bats being too big and how he knows everything..!
http://www.theguardian.com/sport/blog/2015/feb/05/cricket-bat-size-debate-russell-jacksonIt can be a reassuring feeling in some ways, to be proven entirely wrong. When I walked into the Australian offices and production factory of Gray Nicolls last year researching an article for the 40th anniversary of their iconic Scoop bat, that was the overwhelming feeling.
I’d gone there in the hope of reminiscing about the past but it was what I was told about modern cricket equipment by Gray Nicolls master bat-maker Stuart Kranzbuhler, maker of David Warner’s famous Kaboom, that really got me thinking. I was struck that rather being in the midst of the massive changes I’d expected on account of bulging modern bat profiles, remarkably little had changed about Kranzbuhler’s craft in two decades with the company.
We talked about bats, the ways they’d evolved and the ways they’d stayed the same over the years. I watched Kranzbuhler pick up a raw clefts of willow and transform it from a cumbersome blank to the glorious finished article in a matter of minutes. It seemed an absurdly short amount of time to produce something so compelling and beautiful.
In recent weeks, bat-makers like Gray Nicolls have come under fire, their products being the source of ire for both the cricket media and the ICC. From column B, ICC chief executive Dave Richardson said modern bats had “shifted the balance” in favour of batsmen, which as a public excuse for bowler suffering probably came as a big diversionary relief to cricket’s rule-makers.
Speaking of the MCC World Cricket Committee, it’s worth noting that even they decided against changing the laws governing bat dimensions when the issue cropped up last July. Richardson though, said plans were afoot to increase boundary ropes at venues for the upcoming World Cup to 90 metres. As Mike Selvey pointed out, that might come as a rude shock to car park attendants at Eden Park in Auckland.
More troubling to my ear was when Richardson claimed that cricket fans “believe [it] has become unfair” that batsmen are now mis-hitting sixes. More than a few fans might disagree there, Dave. Should we also consider it unfair that leaps in cricket equipment manufacture have made players’ heads safer? Or that bowlers now trust that hi-tech boots won’t have them heading for the knackery by the end of the day?
Guardian contributor Jon Hotten wrote a comprehensive and rumour-defying treatment on modern bats last year for Cricinfo after deciding that in order to separate fact from fiction, it’s always best to go direct to the source. At Gray Nicolls’ other factory in Robertsbridge, Sussex, what he found out was at least a little bit surprising, but also perfect common sense.
The key take-away was that in modern bat design, we’re talking issues of physics. It’s not about size or thick edges or profiles, it’s about weight distribution, willow density and the way bats are pressed. Modern bats are no heavier than they were in the 1970s and indeed most are now slightly lighter, and it’s physically impossible based purely on the bat you use to hit a ball any harder with a 2015 job than it was with a 1985 one. Far from Clive Lloyd’s 3 ½ lb fence posts, most pros now use bats between weights of 2lb 8 and 2lb 10.
“It’s a common misunderstanding that the size of a cricket bat makes a difference,” Gray-Nicolls bat-maker Chris King told Hotten. “When we talk about size, we’re talking about the physical dimensions of the bat as opposed to the weight or the mass. Because that’s where people can get a little bit confused.”
Added King (whose Twitter feed is well worth a look): “What we’re up against is the belief that a big bat is more powerful than a bat of the same weight that’s smaller, which it isn’t. That’s against the laws of physics.” Innovation came first in India, whose international players had long used blades that were bowed inward and appeared thicker at the bottom.
The trick here and with most of the so-called monster bats of modern times is willow density; the new bats are “bigger” but no heavier because their moisture content is lower, they’re not pressed as much as in the past and willow is now being shaved from the shoulders to compensate for the increased heft in the middle. Density, pressing and weight distribution are concepts that ought to be floated a little more often in this discussion.
It’s interesting also to note the reduced lifespan that these modern bats have. Whereas in previous generations players might be able to rely upon a trusty blade for a full season or beyond, most of the modern variations used by the pros (those made for the amateur market are still built to last) only survive for between 200 and 800 runs. No room for superstition then.
Celebrating the Gray Nicolls Scoop – in pictures
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But what of those monstrously thick edges? It’s true that bats of the 1970s often had edges of 10-13mm thickness whereas 45mm or more is not uncommon now. This idea of robbing weight from one section of the bat to increase increase the sweet-spot elsewhere is not new though. It’s precisely what Gray Nicolls tried to do with the “perimeter weighting” technology of the Scoop 40 years ago. Understandable then, that bat-makers should continue to push their materials as far as they can to produce better products, ones that players want to use.
While researching the Scoop last year I also spoke to bat-making veteran Swan Richards, who shaped the famous and coveted blades of Clive Lloyd, the Chappell brothers, David Hookes and Gordon Greenidge as well as later developing hockey stick designs with Wayne Gretzky. “There’s a lot of myths about all this,” was his opening gambit.
Richards told me two things that really stood out; firstly that players themselves were unreliable judges of bat weights and sizes, often having no idea whether their bat was 2lb 8 or 3lb 1. It was more about an often deeply personal sensation, how they felt in the hands. The literal measurements often didn’t factor in; a placebo effect, in a sense. This feeds into the idea expressed by Hotten that batsmen use their blade and the shots they feel comfortable playing with them goes far beyond physical realms.
Richards’ second interesting statement was an alarmingly bleak view of the future supply of willow. He predicted that within perhaps 30 years it might be depleted to such desperate levels that bat-makers would be looking to synthetic or hybrid materials. It’s true that not everyone in the industry shares this view but it represents a far scarier prospect, as far as I’m concerned, than Warner’s Kaboom.
When talk turned to modern players and their power-hitting Richards, broadly cynical of cricket’s new world, claimed that sixes were carrying no further than ones hit by Barry Richards 40 years prior (a theory confirmed by Mike Selvey). The difference now, as many old stagers will tell you and as intimated by Richardson, is how far boundary ropes have been moved in. He attributed this primarily to marketing-led desires. “It’s a sell. It’s a dangerous sell but it is what it is.”
Or is it? Just as bats come into the rule-makers’ spotlight, shouldn’t boundary ropes and the appropriateness of playing games of professional cricket on certain postage-stamp grounds? It’s no coincidence that much of the fresh bat-size debate in the last two weeks has come after AB de Villiers’s record-breaking massacre of the West Indies – indeed it’s formed the primary basis of more than a few arguments for reform.
That knock came on the run-friendly Wanderers, no stranger to colossal ODI batting feats. Never mind, also, that precious little airtime was given to the lunacy of international bowlers feeding him full toss after full toss. Many players also pointed to the new “four fielders out” restriction and the introduction of two new balls in ODIs as factors, the latter being a rule-making backfire if so.
In focusing on bats alone, we also underrate the immense physical prowess of modern players like de Villiers, Chris Gayle and James Faulkner. When you see cricketers up close now, it’s hard not to immediately cast your gaze to the size of their often cartoonish forearms. Faulkner’s bats might be seen by some as lethal weapons, but his arms should also require a customs declaration.
In recent years there’s also been important and traceable shifts in the mindset and preparation of modern batsmen, particularly as a result of T20s increased clout. Confident in their immense physical preparation and safe in the knowledge that even their mis-hits can clear ropes, these players are not only employing a higher ratio of traditionally risky or unconventional strokes, they’re specifically training to play them.
That last point is worth lingering upon. In a fascinating interview with The Cricket Monthly this week, Ricky Ponting speaks of those changes in batting approaches. Certain phrases stand out; “guys having no fear”; “they just back themselves more”; “they think they’re never gonna get out”; “they’re fearless”; “bowlers know that if they’re a little bit off, they’re going to go”.
Most interestingly of all Ponting speaks of the changes to training techniques and drills that have allowed today’s players to hone what might have been considered high-risk trick shots in his era. Deciding to play them and working at them in training drills requires courage, whereas in Ponting’s early years he was “almost scared to be different.” You just got in your net and hit your drives and cuts.
Not so David Warner and Glenn Maxwell, who are far less improvisational in games than they appear. The latter copped grief in the wake of Australia’s tour of the UAE for saying he viewed a reverse sweep no differently in his batting arsenal than a more traditional cover drive. Based on Ponting’s comments, you’d have to say he’s at the forefront of a rapid philosophical change occurring in the batting ranks of international sides.
It’s easy enough to blame bat-makers for innumerable issues in cricket. They lack a clear voice because they’re rarely asked for their opinions and unlike administrators, their underlying motivations are fairly transparent. There’s an irony among their ranks too because even as they stand in piles of willow shavings, steeped in the ancient sights and smells of cricket, they’re pushing things forward. You’ve really got to wonder whether their detractors are really doing the same