Most sports people get the chance
to immediately put their mistakes
right.
Nobody remembers, for example,
that Andy Murray surrendered a 40-0 lead as he served for his first Wimbledon title in 2013 before eventually overcoming Novak Djokovic.
Nor is it now relevant that Sergio
Aguero squandered two good goal scoring chances
against QPR before stealing the Premier League title
in stoppage time for Manchester City in 2012.
Similarly, when
Andrew Flintoff dismissed Ricky Ponting with
the seventh ball of his ‘Greatest Over’ in the second Ashes Test of 2005, there weren’t many in the feverish Edgbaston crowd ruing the earlier no ball
that had forced him to run in again.
Yet had Murray, Aguero, Flintoff
or countless others made such telling errors as batsmen – when one faulty piece
of footwork, lapse in concentration or slight
misjudgement can prove terminal – they might never
have had the chance to atone.
It is why, according to Steve
Bull, who was the England men’s team psychologist between 1997 and 2014,
batting as a sporting discipline
is “as close to unique as you can get”.
Bull formed part of the backroom
team for the famous Ashes
victories in 2005 and 2010/11, but was also
present for lows such as the 5-0 reversal Down Under in 2006/07. He knows the intricacies of the game,
having witnessed first-hand the effect that
they can have on world-class players.
“A slight error of technique and
you are out,” says Bull. “One mistake.
The margin is so ridiculously small, and the consequences of a mistake are so
huge.
“The knock-on effect is that after
two or three low scores, the rest of the mechanisms kick in and the confidence
starts to go.
“It can take you into the abyss.”
This is not news to Shiv Chanderpaul, a West Indies legend at
international level, where flaws are exposed most brutally and scrutiny is most
intense.
Chanderpaul is the fifth-most
capped player in Test-match history, scoring 11,867 in 164 Tests at an average
of 51.37, putting him eighth on the list of all-time top run scorers.
Yet he was still a victim of those
same demons.
“He’s perfectly spot on there,”
says Chanderpaul, when asked whether he
agrees with Bull’s assertion.
“These days bowlers study you more
– it’s not that easy. Bowlers can tell when you’re struggling.
“In difficult conditions, you
might be able to leave a few, but one or two you might nick off. It depends how
long you’re able to stay out there, if you can get lucky and miss those balls.”
Luck is an element of the game
that the standard observer can struggle to compute: it is intangible and
incompatible with the narrative of failure that comes to define cricket
teams.
As Bull explains, a
batsman can do “everything absolutely right” and still end up back in the
hutch, an arbitrary feature of the game that
can dictate the trajectory of a player’s career.
“There are many walks of life
where, if you take control, if you’re confident, resilient and conscientious, it will take
you far,” he says.
“In cricket, you can get that
piece of bad luck, and that hard work comes to nothing.
“Conversely, if you’re in bad form
and get dropped at second slip, then things go your way and you score a
hundred: bingo. If that catch had gone to hand, that’s another failure.”
Cashing in when things are
going your way was
perhaps the key to Chanderpaul’s exceptional longevity.
“I would always go out and play a
bit harder if my place wasn’t on the line,” he says.
“I would just fight as hard as I
could, try and bat as much as I could. You don’t want to be in that situation
when you’re being put under pressure.
“You feel a little more relaxed,
but you dig in.”
Chanderpaul’s record meant that
his place in the team was rarely at risk, though not everybody was convinced at
first. His unusual technique – standing square-on to the bowler before shuffling
into a sideways position as the ball is delivered – was long treated with
suspicion and, in theory, gave bowlers a better chance of dismissing him.
“There wasn’t a coach telling me
what I have to do, or where I have to be,” he says.
“But you still have to remember
the basics – eventually getting into a side-on position. Remember these things,
and go out there and try and use them to help you through whatever period you
have to go through.”
The challenge is for batsmen
who don’t yet have the statistics of a distinguished
career to back them up to show the same mental strength.
“You can’t have a situation where
your confidence is dictated by how many runs you’ve scored,“ says
Bull. “That’s not a good state of affairs.
“That means that if you’re scoring
well, you’re confident, and if you’re not, you’re not.
“Better players are resilient and
tough players. They say: ‘I’m taking control of this. I’m going to feel
confident. I’m feeling good in the nets, hitting the ball well, moving my
feet.’
“That’s good psychology. If you
are more of a worrier, very negative and very analytical, it can take you
deeper into trouble.”
That is why Bull encourages
several of his clients just to relax – “it’s a cliché, but sometimes the best
thing you can do is take a break and switch off” – by going out for a drink or
a day out.
“It is very much
player-dependant,” he says.
“There were some players who liked
structured thought and process-orientated strategy to get ready. With other
players, the best they could do was to forget it.
“It takes you to a sports
psychologists’ favourite maxim: control the controllable.
“When a player is worrying about
whether they are going to get picked or not, they have no control. You’ve got
to come to the next session completely refreshed and start again.”
Chanderpaul managed to combine
that approach with avoiding the desire to step away from the game when unhappy
with his form.
“If I was struggling, I would be
in the nets, hitting some balls,” he says. “If I don’t feel good about it, I’ll do the work until I
start feeling good.
“If I feel OK, I’ll ease off, take
a breath, and not stress about it.”
That last point, according to
Bull, is the key.
“Don’t let that voice in your head
take over,” he says.
“Every day: start afresh, control
the controllable, here we go.”
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