Long Live the Kings of Spain
Since Graeme Swann’s retirement, England has used twelve spinners. Seven made their debut, three have only played one test match, two were batsmen, and one was Samit Patel.
Summer 2019. Everything’s coming up Jack Leach. At the beginning of the season, he dug England out of a hole against Ireland with the bat. He does it again against Australia at Headingley — albeit with a little help from Ben Stokes. Leach’s teammates laugh as they film him reliving his lone single. He scampers between the wickets in the gloom, the clink of beer bottles echoing around the empty ground. In a series dominated by pace, Leach takes twelve wickets at 25.83. He feels invincible.
Heading to New Zealand, Leach has supplanted Moeen Ali as England’s first-choice spinner. It’s been a long road. He battles chronic illness, a surprise remodel of his action, and has watched England pick everyone but him. Some claim he’s had it easy at Taunton. But all that matters is that he’s here on the plane, he’s taking wickets — he’s pretty good.
When he leaves Bay Oval on the 25th November, the heady sensations of Headingley are long-forgotten. BJ Watling and Mitchell Santner have ground England to dust. The bowling was limp and tired, and now pundits want a scapegoat.
Rob Key leads questions over whether Leach has developed at all. Bowling on a dead pitch on days two and three, his lack of penetration is apparently a major concern. Allegedly, Jack Leach isn’t winning games for England. Never mind his performances before this test. Forget that the whole bowling group failed to break Watling and Santner’s partnership. Don’t mention that, with wickets in hand, England failed to bat out the last day. Ignore that the Bay Oval has never hosted a test before; that there’s no metric of performance here. Somehow this is Jack Leach’s fault.
He hasn’t played for England since.
Have you heard the one about the guy who invented the revolving door?
Since Graeme Swann’s retirement in 2013, England has employed twelve spinners. Of those twelve seven made their debut, three have only played one test match, two were batsmen (and one became a batsman after his experience), and two were Gareth Batty and Samit Patel. Indeed, five were selected on a single tour.
After years of cycling through options, Jack Leach’s twenty-one wickets in Sri Lanka at 21.38 should have been a revelation. Two years later, he’s out of the side with England preferring a go on the Generation Game conveyor belt. The selection of Bess was mostly based on potential and though his second attempt at test cricket saw him vastly improved there is a perception his batting and fielding are more important to the selectors. That his energy can often be mistaken for a young Joe Root can’t hurt.
The way England have selected specialists — and spin in particular — in the last few years has been instructive of a shift in their attitudes. Under Duncan Fletcher, specialists were asked to improve their other skills. Batsmen were encouraged to bowl a little, bowlers told to field and get better with the bat. But specialists they remained. Now, specialism only appears valuable to the ECB if accompanied by something else. Even if that something else comes at the expense of the original skill. When Moeen Ali was selected in 2014, it wasn’t because he was the best spinner in the country. Rather, he was a talented batsman and part-time bowler. Samit Patel was even more of a part-timer. Zafar Ansari, Scott Borthwick, and Liam Dawson were all viewed as all-rounders. With all this in mind, Ollie Rayner’s droll advice to young spinners feels especially pertinent under this regime: “learn to bat.”
With selection even in the County Championship proving difficult “spinners… have resorted… to improving their batting and fielding to force their way into teams at №8.” Those that haven’t, including the most recent sacrifices to England’s obsession with leg spin, are struggling for game time. “Unless you are a genius like Saeed Ajmal or Muttiah Muralitharan or Shane Warne,” Rayner says. “Your path won’t be straightforward.” Despite evidence that spinners don’t reach their prime until later, England “selectors still seem intent on pushing the claims of youngsters right at the start of their careers.”
Swann, himself, spent almost a decade playing first-class cricket before emerging as England’s best spinner. Selecting young spin-bowlers isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Nor, in an age of often intense coaching, is it necessarily a negative to allow them to “watch and experiment”; to give them some room for their own development. But England’s habit of chewing up young spinners and discarding them without further thought suggests a lack of interest in the development of spin-bowlers of international quality. And while the competition, for what is often one spot, should be fierce — it shouldn’t ruin careers.
Simon Kerrigan was 24 when he was picked against Australia. He returned figures of 0–52 from eight overs in the match and was never the same. At the time of writing, he has signed for Northamptonshire after not playing a professional game for three years. Scott Borthwick fared slightly better when thrown into the disastrous 2013/14 Ashes. Now he’s a batsman and hasn’t added to his single cap. Liam Dawson impressed with his control in India. He played two more tests at home to offset Moeen Ali’s chronic lack of self-belief before he, too, was discarded. Zafar Ansari was a strange selection in the first place to tour the UAE and India — though no stranger than 39-year-old Gareth Batty — and promptly left the game after returning home. Even Moeen, England’s most-capped and most successful spinner of late, and his ongoing slump suggest a lack of comfort within the set-up. The list grows uncomfortably long.
And while the marginalisation of spinners is somewhat offset by the fact that test cricket in the last five years has been dominated by quick bowlers. It doesn’t excuse England’s cluelessness when it comes to picking spinners or their treatment when, brought into a system that has no respect for them, they fail to prosper — or, in the case of Jack Leach, do.
There is an impression that whatever England don’t understand — be it spin-bowling, keeping, fast-bowling or opening the batting — doesn’t interest them. Concerns over Archer and Wood are dismissed despite the precedent the ECB has set with former fast bowlers. All while they persist in turning to a specific set of players — players they particularly like — and shoehorning them into specialist roles for which they’re underqualified. It wasn’t too long ago that England, following Alistair Cook’s retirement, refused to select specialist openers. Remember, also, that fast-bowlers existed in 2017 but England elected to take Jake Ball and Tom Curran to Australia. Young spinners were on the circuit when Moeen Ali was declared England’s first-choice spinner. While Many keepers have been working hard in the county game while England has indulged — and continue to indulge — the whims of Jonny Bairstow.
A question of value
I have worked as a book designer for almost ten years. Competition is fierce. Not from other professionals but from jobbing amateurs and DIY daredevils. On a daily basis, I field queries from clients who offer £100 for a book cover, independent businesses who have £50 to put toward a corporate identity — and that’s if they’re willing to pay at all. The message is clear: we don’t value what you do. Young designers and graduates are being driven from the industry at an alarming rate, unable to compete with amateurs who offer dirt-cheap, low-quality work and call it “professional.”
Consider, then, the message England sends when they select the same underperforming batsmen, misuse their fast-bowlers, and ruin spinners’ careers. Ask yourself: is Dom Bess the best spinner in the country or does he just fit into a certain mould that England prefer? Is Moeen the best spinner in England, was he when first selected, or do England just like his batting? Imagine how it feels as a young spinner to see a batsman selected ahead of them; watching as England put more time into Moeen Ali than they ever have in the general development of spin.
There appears to be a tacit understanding at the ECB of how to manage and utilise fast-medium bowling. The same is true, to a point, of batsmen (though ask yourself why so many discarded batsmen don’t appear for the Lions). Time and energy will be put into their success and failure. This, naturally, encourages growth at the game’s top levels. Sam Curran is currently the beneficiary of such a system. England likes Sam Curran. He embodies their favourite things: batting and medium-pace. It sees him regularly picked ahead of better bowlers and the result is that he is constantly improving.
The idea of nurturing a utility player like Curran comes naturally to the ECB. Doing the same for a spinner does not. England often makes the right moves with spin camps or Lions trips to Asia, but when it comes to following-through they’d rather pick Sam Curran. His consistent development shows England what might happen if, say, they stuck with a spinner for longer than two series but it’s a lesson England refuse to learn. One has to wonder what might have happened if Curran had not had an immediate effect in international cricket. Would he still be part of the test set-up or, like so many other young players — including his brother — might he have been sent back to county cricket with little hope of a recall?
So why would a young English spinner look at international cricket and not — like Borthwick — turn to batting or — like Ansari — look for better prospects elsewhere? It’s that great and unnecessary conundrum that plagues entry-level jobs: how can one apply experience to a role if you’re actively barred from gaining experience by the need for experience? How can English players be criticised for a lack of development if the set-up actively removes opportunities to develop? Given that England was keen to pick Keaton Jennings for Sri Lanka — likely taking an opportunity to improve in Asia from either Burns or Sibley — it appears to be a paradox the ECB is unwilling to address.
Consider for a moment the cost of developing a cricketer. Not the abstract value, but the quantifiable economical price of making a first-class cricketer. There is an astronomical cost to trying to find the next Joe Root or James Anderson. The success rate is pitifully low — that is the nature of top-level sport. But England, in particular, have a pathetic conversion rate from good to great players. One can bemoan the lack of quality in County Cricket, but such a poor record of producing genuinely world-class players suggests major issues throughout the set-up.
Which is not to say Jack Leach is a great player. Rather, if the best spinner in the country doesn’t play how will we know the level they might reach? How can Jack Leach overcome the criticism levelled at him if he only plays in India? You cannot predict what players will become so early in their careers. No one looked at Joe Root in his first test and guessed, almost a decade later, that his record would resemble Stephen Fleming more than Sachin Tendulkar.
Returning to Rayner’s point that “unless you are a [spinning] genius” you’re in for a rough ride. Even those we regard as geniuses of the art, Warne and Muralitharan in particular, weren’t at their peak from the start. The hard work they put in was coupled with faith from their selectors. Had Warne been judged with England’s ostensible current criteria, he likely only would have played one test match. But if Jack Leach has been branded not good enough after a single, collective, poor performance or Ben Foakes because England really likes Jonny Bairstow, what hope do young players coming through have?
At times, England resembles a dysfunctional ex-boyfriend. Unable to move on from old flames, if a new partner isn’t exactly right immediately, they’d rather just text their ex. One bad test and Jack Leach is on the sidelines, one bad summer and Bess is being replaced by Moeen Ali? If spinners don’t immediately succeed, Adil Rashid is likely to receive a text asking, “u up?” Current attitudes suggest that England will never find a spinner to stick with, so invested are they in a small crop of favoured players and ejecting all those that don’t fit into that pattern — to the tune of twelve spinners in seven years.