IT’S SIX AND OUT
After 21 years in county cricket Ryan Sidebottom hopes that...
RYAN Sidebottom is intent on bowing out of professional cricket this summer by becoming the first player in more than a quarter of a century to win six County Championship titles.
Not since Mike Gatting and John Emburey claimed their final pennants with Middlesex in 1990 has a personal sextet been achieved but the 39-year- old is intent on one last act of defiance in a career fuelled on proving people wrong.
His Yorkshire team- mates believe but for a three-month injury absence last year he would already have six in the bag.
Statistics support the theory: since 2012 the veteran left-armer has claimed 169 top-flight scalps at a miserly average of 19.44. No wonder they dub him the Rolls Royce. The fracturing of his ankle was freakish, involved Steven Patterson and a football.
‘We have a game called PIG, which people might better know as keepy-uppy,’ he explains.
‘ We were messing around, Patto went to kick the ball, missed and knocked me to the ground. These things happen, though, don’t they?’
One of the county scene’s most cherished characters — a Roger Daltrey doppelganger whose onfield persona veers from deranged lunatic to stroppy pantomime dame — misses Yorkshire’s game with Warwickshire, starting today, with a hamstring twinge. Yet the physical knocks have always been less of an obstacle to the son of Arnie Sidebottom (below) — a one-cap England Test seamer who also played First Division football for Manchester United in the 1970s — than the mental ones. During a career that has incorporated three titles with his native Yorkshire and two during a sevenseason spell with Nottinghamshire, he has habitually been told he is out of his depth. Even before his maiden Championship wicket in 1997, English domestic cricket’s most-decorated player was warned he was not up to it. At Yorkshire schools trials, he would hear the whispers of other parents: ‘That’s Arnie Sidebottom’s lad. He’s only here because of his dad.’ Amid accusations of nepotism, he was selected for the Under 15 B team. ‘After one game, the coach Tony Bowes pointed me out. “You, give up. You’re never going to make it. You’ll never be good enough.” It was in front of all the other lads.’ Back home, there were tears but the paternal advice was to reclaim those words as motivation. Arnie vowed to withdraw into the background, to the extent that although this testimonial season is Sidebottom junior’s 21st in first- class cricket, his dad has watched him live just seven times.
He will, however, be present for the final curtain. That will provide wonderful symmetry to a magnificent career. Sidebottom grew up at Headingley. During matches, he would knock-up on the green behindd the East Stand. Pre and postplay would be spent in thee dressing room — ‘listening to o all the swearing, dad would say y to me: “shut your ears, lad”’ — inhabited by Geoffrey Boycottt and David Bairstow.
Ryan says: ‘Dad’s hardcoree Barnsley approach appealed to o Boycs, and Bairstow was his bestst mate. They were drinking partt ners, old- school cricketers and it’s nice that I sit next to Jonny Bairstow now. He’s godfather to my son, so the connection’s still strong.’
It appeared his career was to echo that of his father. One wicketless Test game against Pakistan in 2001 was followed by six years in the wilderness. Upon his recall to face West Indies, there were mixed emotions.
‘At the time being labelled a “horses for courses” selection really p****d me off,’ he says.
‘I thought I was a better bowler than that. So to take eight-for, 16 in the series, then follow it up against India — probably the best I bowled in an England shirt despite not getting so many wickets — felt like an achievement.’
Peter Moores’ faith in a top county performer reaped rich rewards. However, Andy Flower’s succession in early 2009, served up a dollop of deja vu. As in Duncan Fletcher’s reign, talk focused on Sidebottom’s lack of pace.
‘ Nothing against Andy but whenever we spoke, we never really saw eye to eye,’ he reveals.
‘He always seemed to be saying “you’ve lost your zip” or “you’ve lost your swing”. I was 32, and thinking, “Do I need this?” I always went out and gave it everything. But if the coach is telling you that you’re not fast enough, never gives you any positive comments, it’s going to take its toll. I thought, “If you don’t want me in the England set-up, tell me and I’ll go play county cricket”.’
So, three months after returni ing from the Caribbean as one of o only 11 England players to have w won a global trophy — the World Twenty20 in 2010 — that is what he did. Within hours of Nottinghamshire’s Championship title, he was on 12th man duty for a one- day international at The Oval. He told Flower he and international cricket were done.
‘I’d won a World Cup and didn’t want to be remembered as someone who carried drinks,’ he says.
Within a month, he was back at his beloved Headingley after being offered just a one-year deal at Trent Bridge. The following year, he took 62 Championship scalps.
Now for one final dart at history: ‘I still love competing against these younger guys, to show them I’m still the best.’