After I hit that locker Gilo called me a t**t ... and I think he was probably right

FOR ACCURACY’S sake it ought to be noted that I did not punch the locker in the dressing room at the Kensington Oval in Barbados back in 2014 — even though the end result would arguably have been the same.

It was the slamming of my open-handed palm that resulted in the broken wrist, causing me to miss the World Twenty20 in Bangladesh and relinquish my England place across all three forms of the game. It was totally irresponsible and an incident that I deeply regret.

It hurt me much more than the physical pain. It made what I viewed as a deteriorating situation for me in international cricket a whole lot worse.

It was only three months earlier that I had truly arrived as an England player — scoring the only hundred by a visiting batsman in the Ashes had given me immense inner belief. So how had it come to this? My head was all over the place. I was desperate to repeat all the good stuff I had shown in Australia but, try as I might, I just couldn’t.

I was genuinely excited about heading off to face West Indies, the reigning world champions in T20.

The ball was pinging off the bat in the nets when we landed in Antigua and I resumed the position of No3, where I had finished up in the Australian one-dayers, for the warm-up match against a University of West Indies XI.

It was a decent start to the tour. I made 58, Joe Root scored an unbeaten hundred and we won our practice outing by 29 runs. I was told I would be starting the series proper at three. I was on a high. I felt I had seized the chance offered to me.

But then I was told on the eve of the first match that there had been a change. I was no longer three. I would be coming in at five.

I cannot lie. That was a disappointment. I had been switched about in the matches in Australia too. Having started at seven, I slipped to eight. Then, from nowhere, I was tried at three. I hoped the man-of-the-match performance for the win in Perth might persuade Ashley Giles, the England one-day coach (above), to persist. But from these changes, it was clear uncertainty remained about my best position.

It is horrible when you are out of form both in the nets and in the middle, but what I was to experience over the next fortnight was worse.

In every practice session I felt class, as though I was just around the corner from a big score. But I was going into games and unearthing ways of getting out. In the first match, I was bowled by a delivery from Sunil Narine that just clipped the bail. In the second, I got a tickle off an inside edge that was taken by wicketkeeper Denesh Ramdin. Then, after being promoted back up to three for the final match, it was like I couldn’t wait to make an impression — taking the positive option against Dwayne Bravo’s first ball, I top-edged a pull. My combined total: nine runs off 17 balls.

Things did not get any better when we moved to Barbados for the T20s. Marlon Samuels bowled his quicker ball and, trying to hit it for six, I missed by a mile. I didn’t get picked for the second match and frustration was festering.

So when I got out first ball to the left-arm T20 specialist Krishmar Santokie, it was the culmination of everything. It was agonising to walk off with nothing next to my name again. All I could think about was what a failure the tour had been.

I wasn’t prepared to sit simmering in the dug-out this time. I was so angry I walked straight past my team-mates, up the stairs and into the dressing room.

The next bit wasn’t planned, I promise you.

I drew my elbow back and with everything I had, fingers bent in but palm facing, I hit the locker with the heel of my right hand. There was the same amount of force as you would use in a punch.

The glass at the back of the locker smashed into what seemed a thousand pieces. I felt such an idiot and now I had to sweep up the mess.

What I didn’t know at the time was how much damage it had caused me. With the adrenalin pumping, I couldn’t feel a thing. But 10 minutes later, I knew something was wrong. I tried to convince myself I had just jarred my wrist and taped it up to go out for fielding practice before the switch of innings.

When the West Indies began their chase, I got put into slip. That was not the best place for someone in my condition, was it? I whispered to Jos Buttler, ‘I’m stood here at second with a broken wrist’. I’m not sure whether he took me seriously or not. He creased up laughing.

When I got shifted to long off and had to throw a ball in from the deep, things came to a crunch. It hurt so much I had to run off.

I had just informed Craig de Weymarn [physio] when Ashley Giles walked in. A coach tends to be concerned when one of the best fielders comes off. It’s fair to say he didn’t have much to say to me in response to my mishap.

Next day I was sent for an X-ray and my worst fear was confirmed. I would miss the tour to Bangladesh.

Later, at a team meeting, I got to address the group. ‘Sorry for letting you all down. I won’t be out there with you,’ I said. I considered whether it was appropriate to offer up a little bit of humour, then added: ‘But every cloud has a silver lining and if ever there was a tour I was going to miss...’

On balance, I didn’t think it was the right time. Gilo called me a ‘t**t’ and he was probably right.

I sought further chats with psychologist Mark Bawden. We spoke about what I would do if I felt this way during a poor period of form in future. When that feeling built inside of me, what was I to do? When it was bubbling up, how could I release it? It certainly wasn’t an option to hit solid objects with my bare hands.

We discussed how it was important to find a way of dealing with isolated failure and not bind it all together to create a bigger problem.

Instead of lashing out, letting my temper get the better of me, we devised a routine for when I got out in frustrating circumstances. From that point on, whenever it happened, I was to immediately pack my kitbag.

Not very rebellious, I know. Previously, I’d have been looking around the room for a place to smack my bat. Now I was supposed to methodically fold things up, making sure all the straps were done neatly and place things in an orderly fashion.

These days, if I hit anything it tends to be using one of my batting pads and I’m pretty confident I can’t break anything with one of those. I may swear like a trooper, too, but the focus of packing the bag certainly takes my anger level down a notch or two.

Time helps the process of calming down. And packing your bag takes time.

Some of the lads were able to see the funny side of things when we returned to the Kensington Oval a year later for a Test series.

I walked into the changing room one day to find a boxing mitt taped over the locker nearest to my spot — the handiwork of Ian Bell. It was the screensaver on my phone for a while.

‘I FELT SUCH AN IDIOT... AND I HAD TO CLEAN UP ALL THE MESS’