The Shorter Wisden 2013 (9 page)

Meanwhile, several of the last 15 pages – despite a notice “to the Reader” that complained of “the confined nature of an Almanack” – were given over to
wide-ranging trivia. These ran an unlikely course, from notable dates in the history of China (“the opium dispute commenced, 1834”) to the “brass bell weighing 17cwt… cleft
by the hammer while ringing, from the effect of the severe frost on January 4, 1861”. And in the spirit of those trivia,
Wisden 2013
here presents its own eclectic collection of
abstruse facts, illustrating how the world has changed since the first editions were offered for sale.

Also in 1864…

Five pirates were publicly hanged at Newgate prison… an explosion at a gunpowder depot at Erith on the south bank of the Thames killed at least eight and was felt as far
away as Cambridge and Guildford… and war finally resolved the Schleswig–Holstein question (that had famously perplexed so many).

The Leading Cricketer in the World is chosen by the editor of
Wisden
in consultation with some of the world’s most experienced cricket writers and commentators.
The selection is based on a player’s class and form shown in all cricket during the calendar year, and is merely guided by statistics rather than governed by them. There is no limit to how
many times a player may be chosen.

The Five Cricketers of the Year are chosen by the editor of
Wisden
, and represent a tradition that dates back to 1889, making this the oldest individual award in
cricket. Excellence in and/or influence on the previous English summer are the major criteria for inclusion as a Cricketer of the Year. No one can be chosen more than once.

The Schools Cricketer of the Year, based on first-team performances during the previous English summer, is chosen by
Wisden’s
schools correspondent in
consultation with the editor of
Wisden
and other experienced observers of schools cricket. The winner’s school must be in the UK, play cricket to a standard approved by
Wisden’s
schools correspondent and provide reports to this Almanack.

The Book of the Year is selected by
Wisden’s
guest reviewer; all cricket books published in the previous calendar year and submitted to
Wisden
for
possible review are eligible.

The Wisden–MCC Cricket Photograph of the Year is chosen by a panel of independent experts; all images on a cricket theme photographed in the previous calendar year are
eligible.

Full details of past winners of all these honours can be found at
www.wisden.com

NOTES BY THE EDITOR

On an overcast, late August afternoon in the ECB’s clean-cut offices at Lord’s, English cricket tried to put a brave face on a miserable month. Andrew Strauss
looked wistful but resolute as he resigned the captaincy following the loss of a Test series and the No. 1 ranking, both to South Africa. Beside him sat Alastair Cook, in the same sensible grey
suit that spoke of a very British response to a crisis, of keeping calm and carrying on. Kevin Pietersen hovered in spirit, if not in person. And next up for the Test team was a tour of India,
perhaps the last place to sort out a domestic. As the room filled with uncharitable thoughts of a hospital pass from a man who played fly-half at university, Cook did well not to drop the ball.

Things were about to get worse. After flunking their World Twenty20 defence in Sri Lanka (though without Cook), England were thrashed in the First Test at Ahmedabad, leaving them one defeat away
from matching the record eight they had suffered in 1984, 1986 and 1993, an era when English summers were nothing without a fiasco or three. Exasperatingly, they were being made to look fools by
Asia’s spinners yet again. Would someone please change the record? Did anyone even know how?

Even now, the answers seem implausible. In a heady fortnight, England won at Mumbai, then Kolkata. Soon, Christmas was coming early: on December 17, in a wood-panelled conference room at the
Vidarbha Cricket Association Stadium in Nagpur, Cook could finally relax. A turgid draw had secured a 2–1 win, instantly established his authority and drawn some sort of line under the
year’s traumas. Crisis management wasn’t supposed to be this straightforward.

England have won Test series from unpromising positions before: the Ashes of 1954-55, 1981 and 2005; India in 1984-85 and Sri Lanka in 2000-01. But there may never have been a set of
circumstances so loaded in the opposition’s favour. Others would have battened down the hatches and waited for spring. Cook came out fighting, bloody-minded but with a clarity of thought,
taking on India’s slow bowlers with a more open stance, lighter footwork and straighter hitting. Only freak occurrences could stop him: a first-over stumping, a first-ever run-out, a pair of
umpiring gaffes.

In the course of three hundreds, a trio to rank with any by an England cricketer, he grew into a leader of men – first equalling, then breaking, the national record of 22 centuries in
Tests, which seemed to have stood since biblical times. Throw in the 2010-11 Ashes, and he had now scored 1,328 runs at an average of 102, with six hundreds, in England’s two most significant
away wins of the modern era. For once, Bradmanesque felt not like a cliché, but the only adjective up to the job.

As with all good captains, Cook coaxed and cajoled. Matt Prior fed off his defiance during the follow-on at Ahmedabad. At Mumbai, Pietersen – now cock of the walk, not elephant in the room
– compiled his own third hall-of-fame innings of the year, after Colombo and Headingley. Monty Panesar, mistakenly omitted at first, settled into a mesmeric groove. James Anderson and Steven
Finn found reverse swing in Kolkata. Graeme Swann chipped away, troubling not merely left-handers. By the time Jonathan Trott and Ian Bell were grinding out hundreds at Nagpur, England had
rediscovered the joys of team spirit.

Victory in India was as stirring as it was unexpected, for earlier in the year there had been a damning hint of the malaise that struck after 2005. By their own admission, England were
complacent at the start of 2012 in the UAE against Pakistan. And in the First Test against Sri Lanka at Galle in March, they tested out Einstein’s definition of insanity, sweeping straight
balls again and again while appearing to expect a different result. After brushing aside West Indies in the first part of the summer, they were then outclassed by South Africa, who spent the year
establishing themselves as the world’s best Test team, and the start of 2013 confirming it.

The defeat at Lord’s prompted Strauss to suggest that England preferred being “hunter” rather than “hunted”, which said a lot about the national sporting psyche.
But they had been seduced by talk of a legacy: committing the oldest crime in cricket’s book, they took their eye off the ball. Cook demanded his players refocus, and so joined Douglas
Jardine, Tony Greig and David Gower as the only England captains to win a Test series in India. The London Olympics didn’t hand out gold medals for pleasant surprises but, in the most
memorable year for British sport, the cricketers had finally chipped in.

We
really
need to talk about Kevin

Tea was approaching on the second day at Nagpur when Anderson bowled Virender Sehwag for a duck and ran straight into the arms of Pietersen at backward point. The explanation
was disappointingly simple, a case of falling headlong into the nearest embrace. But the symbolism! After a year in which Pietersen bestrode social media like a virtual colossus, here was the
strangest thing: a real-life exchange with a previously hostile team-mate, and not a BlackBerry or an “LOL” in sight. It felt like a modern morality tale.

There were moments in 2012 when Pietersen’s behaviour appeared to recall the Italian footballer Giorgio Chinaglia, who was once asked if it was true he had played with Pelé.
“No,” he said. “Pelé played with me.” Cricket, some suspected, existed only as an extension of Pietersen’s whims (and unlike team, cricket definitely had an
“i” in it). Emboldened by a lucrative new Indian Premier League deal, he was arrogant, attempting to bulldoze over the terms of his central contract. He was self-pitying, claiming he
had never been looked after. And he was a man apart, sending silly texts to the South Africans.

What happened next was a mishmash in many genres. A soap opera became a panto when Pietersen was booed at a county match in Southampton. His team-mates cast themselves in a Whitehall farce,
giggling in the wardrobe as Pietersen was mocked on a fake Twitter account. Other nations enjoyed a comedy in several acts, not least when his role at the World Twenty20 was confined to a TV
studio. And over in the Theatre of the Absurd, ECB chairman Giles Clarke spoke of reintegration – cricket’s noun of the year. Then there was Nagpur’s Bollywood hug. We await the
musical.

The inner workings of the English game were thrust into the spotlight. Despite armchair diagnoses, only the dressing-room knew just how troublesome Pietersen had become; for outsiders to lecture
Andy Flower on man-management was plain ludicrous. But as his exile dragged on, the ECB began to look petty, if they showed their faces at all. Pietersen’s pursuit of Twenty20’s riches
at the expense of the Test side – the format which had made his name – was unattractive, although these attitudes can filter down from the top. And if there was a have-cake-and-eat-it
feel to his simultaneous grouse about excessive cricket and his yearning for the IPL, it was hard to ignore a wider truth: a bloated schedule has asked the players to make unfair choices. The
dilemma is not going away, however much English cricket wishes it would.

Earlier in the year, there had been a hint of double standards, too. When Stuart Broad branded county newspaper reporters “liars”, “muppets” and “jobsworths”
– on Twitter, naturally – the slurs evaporated into cyberspace. Yet when Pietersen questioned the commentary credentials of Nick Knight, who works for Sky Sports, bankrollers of the
English game, he was fined. Insults were being graded by the supposed importance of their victims.

But all was not lost. In India, England were a better, more watchable, team for the inclusion of a fully engaged Pietersen. And, painful though the process was, the ECB had waylaid his
international retirement. More than that, they may have saved a man from himself. Pietersen, it turned out, needed England more than he realised, just as England were acknowledging they would
prefer not to live without Pietersen; no one said marriages of convenience were easy. Yet amid it all were perhaps the stirrings of a realisation – that while hero-worship at the IPL may feed
the ego, a long Test career is more likely to nourish the soul.

Tired but not emotional

Strauss deserved better than the finale he got, but his response to the turmoil that dominated the run-up to the Lord’s Test against South Africa showed why he had been
one of England’s most respected captains. Diplomatic and authoritative, he emitted just the right sort of anger – steam, not lava. And when he told team-mates of his retirement, he did
so by letter. He treated others with respect as a matter of course; usually, they returned the favour.