Philander gets wickets and humiliates batsmen by using his brain
VER since the speed ball radar was introduced into international cricket the importance of pace has become a fixation. If a bowler can’t bowl 140 ‘‘clicks’’ plus he is immediately condemned to the ranks of impotence when intelligence is replaced by primeval macho instincts.
The reduction of a physical threat to a batsman’s person is perceived as lessening the chances of getting him out.
Then along comes Vernon Philander to remind you that it is possible to bowl in the mid-130s and do a lot of damage to opposition batsmen. Philander reminded us that the greatest hurt for a batsman is the mental humiliation of being beaten repeatedly by the ball’s sideways movement. Philander’s ability to impose unrelenting technical challenges on the New Zealand batsmen during the first test in Dunedin was impressive.
I remember that old Yorkshire warhorse Brian Close in the 1970s, proudly showing off his bruised torso like a badge of honour, after a harrowing encounter with the West Indies quicks. He added the comment that ‘‘the ball is only on you for a moment, so how can it hurt you?’’
I can also recall Hedley Howarth during a partnership with me in a test match at Sabina Park, Jamaica, saying, when answering my concerns about him facing their quickest bowler, ‘‘don’t worry about me, hitting me isn’t getting me out’’.
Ask Rob Nicol following his second-innings battle with South Africa’s pace men in Dunedin. He
Many batsmen find the swinging ball hard enough to handle but the very best are more likely to be undone by sideways movement from the pitch.
kept repeatedly coming forward out of the trenches repelling anything they could throw (bowl) at him. He was eventually undone by South Africa’s slowest bowler, Imran Tahir.
Philander’s spell of five overs for 11 runs and one wicket with the new ball in the morning session of day two at Dunedin was as good as any I can remember. His immaculate control of line and length kept the pressure on but it was the degree of sideways movement (both ways) that created the chance of a wicket almost every ball. It was riveting stuff that deserved greater reward.
Many batsmen find the swinging ball hard enough to handle but the very best are more likely to be undone by sideways movement from the pitch. The reasons are that swing goes in one direction and the signals appear earlier, whereas movement from the pitch can go in either direction without warning.
Philander gets in very close to the stumps on delivery, enhancing his chances of LBWS. By closing down the degree of angle between the two sets of stumps, he increases the likelihood of hitting the batsman in line. A wicket to wicket angle of delivery also helps to equalise the chances of the ball deviating in either direction and optically can commit the batsman to play at the first line he sees.
Philander is predominantly a seam bowler rather than a swing bowler, which negates the need to get wider in the crease on delivery if the ball is swinging.
I found it interesting to observe (thanks to high-speed camera technology) that the angle of the seam presented by Philander during the Dunedin test was not bolt upright after leaving his hand, which probably explains why he relies on seam rather than swing. Whether Philander has more control over which way the ball moves from the pitch, I don’t know.
WHEN critiquing teams, one is more aware of the vulnerabilities of players that you see more often. Having mixed with commentators, journalists and players from other countries over many years, the reaction and comments they make about their own players is a reminder that we sometimes overestimate the abilities of those less known to us.
The South African cricket team are a case in point. Their performance in the first test in Dunedin lacked the degree of confidence and urgency I was expecting from a team much higher ranked than New Zealand.
Failing with the bat in the first innings of a test is not uncommon, but the South Africans’ reaction to it in their second innings was surprisingly distrustful of their abilities. Even when they had worked themselves into a strong position at 353-5 half an hour before lunch on day four, they scored only six runs from the eight overs leading into the break.
During that period, New Zealand’s part-time bowler Kane Williamson was bowling, with Jacques Rudolph well established at the crease. To cap it off, with a minute still showing on the ground clock before lunch, umpire Aleem Dar indicated that one more over should be bowled. What happened? The players walked off for lunch.
Jacques Kallis described their batting as ‘‘ugly cricket’’ but why did it need to be? In particular, he and Graeme Smith made no attempt at taking it to the opposition bowlers during their 200-run partnership.
And Smith’s field placements with the new ball were less than threatening with 400 to play with in the second innings.
New Zealand’s opposition may not be as overwhelming as originally anticipated. Tahir’s lack of bounce appeared to hinder his effectiveness and Morne Morkel’s excessive enthusiasm for shortpitched bowling, if continued, may reduce his wicket-taking potential.
However, New Zealand’s decision to play four specialist seamers does reduce their chances of scoring enough runs.