The most important man on the field
WICKETKEEPERS are a rare breed.
More often than not we coax our kids to bowl fast, spin like Muri, Hafeez or Warne and swing the ball like James Anderson or Vernon Philander.
We spend hours coaching fielding drills, training players to become more athletic, agile, alert in the field to emulate the mercurial Jonty Rhodes – run outs win matches, direct hits on the stumps are a skill of accuracy, speed, coordination.
Batting – of course every player should possess a degree of capability as the current era demands all-round abilities rather than being adept at merely one.
The wicketkeeper is required at every fielding session, and is unassumingly the focal point of any cricket match – as we coaches always say, the most important man on the field as he is well positioned to assist the captain and bowler. He must catch, stump, appeal, run batsmen out, suffer back pain and expect every delivery to come his way. He is in effect the chief executive, calling the shots.
I first played against Dave Richardson when he was playing for Eastern Province against Western Province in the late 1970s. He was studying law at the University of Port Elizabeth at the time.
He struck me as a quietly confident, competent man behind the stumps. Sure enough, he was to become a permanent fixture in Kepler Wessels’ winning EP team of the 1980s which also included the likes of Mark Rushmere, Dave Callaghan, Tim Shaw and Rod Mccurdy.
Unlike the vociferous Ray Jennings of then Transvaal, Dave appeared gentle, almost apologetic when inquiring of the umpire in his early development.
Having spent much time at the crease batting, Richo and I had a quiet respect for each other’s abilities as we both had an effective presence executing our respective objectives – me trying to score many runs and remain at the crease all day, Richo trying to legally coerce me into a false shot, and so dismiss me for an early shower. Sometimes it worked, many times not. As a batsman you become acquainted with a wicketkeeper’s style. Dave always had a neat, competitive but respectful demeanour.
He has an impish sense of humour – cutting rather than rude, blasphemous or derogatory. His training as a lawyer no doubt assisted him to think logically, apply his ideas lucidly, communicate fluently and eradicate emotion.
He had a great partnership with left arm spinner Tim Shaw – I was always aware that with Richo behind the stumps one small mistake would prove costly, and so it transpired over the years.
He was an excellent team player, eventually teaming up for South Africa during the historic first tour of India in 1991 and the World Cup in Australia in 1992.
It was no surprise that he was selected ahead of Ray Jennings, as he also had the edge in the batting stakes. Dave was at the crease with Brian Mcmillan at the SCG against England in that semi-final when the rain scuppered our chances – 19 runs off one ball! Since that game the Duckworth-lewis system was introduced.
I enjoyed two more tours with Richo to England and Australia again in 1994.
He was always the team representative with his intelligence and communication skills. Off the field he was good company, creating humour and good sense.
The next chief executive of the ICC was also excellent guidance for youngsters like Gary Kirsten, Rhodes and Allan Donald progressing through the system as financial affairs – retainers, bonuses, match fees – and travel affairs were negotiated with the United Cricket Board.
Richardson was a negotiator with sound vision, in fact still is.
The fact that another South African after the enigmatic Haroon Lorgat, is about to become the next CEO of the ICC speaks volumes for SA’S cricket culture and the respect enjoyed internationally.
Richardson will continue to serve world cricket with aplomb and those in CEO positions within SA should take heed of his and Lorgat’s example. Contact me on peter.krstn@gmail.com