MY COUNTRY FOR A LEG-SPINNER

Mark Richardson, the former NZ opener, had a Christmas wish-list. It consisted of three things; for New Zealand to have a fit Jesse Ryder, a genuinely quick bowler and a leg spinner. Of the three, Ryder being fit is most probable; a genuinely fast bowler is possible but the leg spinner, that seems unlikely. A high-quality leg-spinner is an asset for any team, with their ability to find turn and bounce on pitches that finger spinners struggle on, spinning the ball away from a right-handed batsmen, with the option of using a well-disguised wrong-un (finger-spinners, at least until the invention of the doosra, didn’t have this option). Unfortunately, New Zealand is not exactly overflowing with leg spinning talent or tradition. Tarun Nethula made his debut recently against Zimbabwe and showed some promise, especially in the second game. Before him, the last specialist leg spinner to play for New Zealand was Brooke Walker, who took five expensive wickets in 5 tests. Before Walker, there was Greg Loveridge who played one test in 1996. He broke his hand batting before he got a chance to bowl, although his first class average of over 50 doesn’t suggest the NZ selectors had stumbled upon a test bowling sensation. In fact, New Zealand’s most successful leg spinner was Jack Alabaster who snared 49 wickets from the 21 tests he played in the 1950s, 1960s and early 1970s (21 tests over 17 years suggests that he may not have got a decent run in the side). But that’s not to say that this situation of not having a leg spin legacy is uniquely New Zealand’s. England, like New Zealand, is a team reputed to struggle against leg spin. A contributing reason for this may be that no English leg spinner has taken more than Tich Freeman’s 66 (notwithstanding the central role that an English leg spinner played in keeping Bradman’s average below 100). South Africa’s attack in their first forays in test cricket often included 3 leg spinners but their most successful was Aubrey Faulkner, a talented all-rounder whose career was interrupted by the First World War, who averaged 40 with the bat and took 82 wickets at 26 with his bowling, The West Indies leading leg spinner was David Holford who took 53 wickets in tests (not a surprise given the recent pace-dominated history of West Indian cricket). Zimbabwe’s best leg spinner was Paul Strang who took 70 while Sri Lanka’s best is Ajantha Mendis, the “mystery” spinner whose test career has seemed to have stalled at 62 victims. No Bangladeshi leg spinner has taken more test wickets than Mohammed Ashraful’s 24.

 Leg spin has played a large role in Australia, where wrist-spin bowlers can thrive on bouncy pitches, getting drift, turn and bounce away from right handed batsmen when finger spinners can’t and on the spin-friendly sub-continental pitches of India and Pakistan. This is probably why these are the only countries to have leg spinners who have taken more than 100 test wickets.  When people talk about a revival of leg spin after Warne, it’s more that he inspired a generation of cricket-watchers rather than led to a succession of world-class leg spinners. His success led to imitators being sought, most of whom failed to live up to expectation, like Loveridge or Ian Salisbury, the English leg spinner who averaged over 100 after 10 matches (with the ball not the bat, unfortunately).  Few of these Warne clones succeeded. Ironically, one of the next best leg-spinners during the Warne era was Australia’s Stuart MacGill, who had the misfortune of being born in Australia around the same time as Warne. It’s also anglo-phillic to say that Warne was the man who saved leg spin. After all, Abdul Qadir was living up to all sorts of Oriental stereotypes as he bemused a variety of batsmen during the 1970s and 1980s. Mushtaq Ahmed was Qadir’s successor and a contemporary of Warne’s and had the earlier impact with a starring role in Pakistan’s World Cup triumph and Anil Kumble was snaring Englishmen by the bucket-full in 1993. But cricket watchers in England, Australia and New Zealand in particular of my generation tend to think of leg spin as having a pre-Warne era and then a post- Warne era. The reality is that most countries had no great tradition of leg spin bowlers to fall back on. Warne may have revived interest in leg spin but that had more to do with his genius than for a longing to rediscover some long-lost art form. Simply, the art-form had never existed beyond the fringe in most cricket-playing countries. Warne was a genuine superstar, the sort of bowler who made kids change from trying to bowl as fast as possible to attempting to bowl a well-disguised flipper. 

Abdul Qadir carried the leg-spinners tradition in the 1980s.

 My cricketing heroes before Warne were all quick bowlers; Danny Morrison, Curtly Ambrose, Wasim and Waqar. Then Warne happened. I first saw Warne bowl against the West Indies in the summer of 92/93. In my mind, listening to it on radio, it exists as one of the great series. There was Lara's double at Sydney, the nail-biter at Adelaide, Ambrose's rampage at Perth (and before that, the wristband incident with Dean Jones during the World Series). Warne played a largely peripheral role in the series but had a match-winning spell at Melbourne, 7-52, his first 5 wicket haul, the first time his name really came to my attention. Soon after, he came to New Zealand, where he impressed with his control and variation, snaring 17 wickets in the 3 test series, but remained largely unheralded still. Then came the Ashes series, the ball of the Century and his name was made. My favourite Warne is the Warne of 93/94, when he took 36 wickets in 6 tests, 18 against New Zealand and them another 18 against South Africa, famously capturing Darryl Cullinan as his bunny as well as adding 22 in the World Series tournament. 

Warne of that vintage had it all, his big turning leg spinner and his flipper his key weapons alongside his attitude, swag, as we would say in modern-day parlance. If Murali was all energy, Warne was the schemer, the bowler who could out-think a batsman. Just witness his recent prediction of McCullum’s demise when he was bowling to him during the Big Bash to get what I mean. If Warne has a lasting impact, it may have been reflected in the quote about the Velvet Underground, the seminal American rock band “no-one brought their records but every-one that did started a band.” Conversely, Warne was widely admired but few have managed to emulate him, in no small way because of the inherent difficulties in bowling leg-spin. I hope that Mark Richardson’s wish could come true as apart from watching a genuinely quick bowler in the midst of a match-winning spell, there is no greater thrill in cricket than watching a leg-spinner at the top of his game, outwitting and out-thinking a batsman. It’s just unlikely that New Zealand will be the country where the next great leg-spinner will be found.