My Favourite Cricketer: Hansie Cronje by Purna Hassan

In our series "My Favourite Cricketer" we've invited the best cricket writers and bloggers to divulge why certain cricketers emerge as their favourites.  This week, Purna Hassan of Cricket Minded and @cricketminded takes the stand

I fell in love with cricket because of Hansie Cronje and the team he captained. My Dad introduced me to cricket and as he was an avid fan of India, I followed his passion. It was only at age eleven when began to grasp the concepts of the game and realized cricket's meaning differs between countries.

Courtesy: wikipedia.org

In India, it was religion bordering on fanatic levels. In West Indies, cricket was an aura that had stunned the world. In Australia, it evoked a chase between a wild animal and its prey. In South Africa, it was an avenue for a country to step up and etch their place on the map. In the 1997-1998 Test match between South Africa and India, Allan Donald and Shaun Pollock captured my attention, Jonty Rhodes made me clap rowdily and Hansie Cronje – he simply demanded my respect.

He wasn’t as flamboyant as a batsman could be. In fact, his batting numbers are far below what he should have achieved. But I have no complaints. Hansie was too busy being a leader, instilling faith in players that had been overlooked for years because of the unfortunate state of their country. Hansie was too busy being there.

I am trying here to express what he represented, for his team and his country. I'm not South African, but do come from a country that has always struggled to rectify the overblown, deeply concentrated negative images displayed for so long in the media. Hansie was put in charge of such a team at the tender age of 24; despite relative youth, he never showed any greenness. Hansie feared no one, or if he did, I never saw it. His confidence, ego and intensity were, in my opinion, exactly what the new era Proteas needed. After all, this team had defend every single outburst (racial or otherwise) which would have been termed ‘part of the game’ for others. The world was watching and Hansie and co. had to prove that South Africans were capable of much more than just apartheid.

His greatest power lay in the knowledge that he was there to play cricket. His love for the game resonated in his eyes and his smiles. He could have a good time on the pitch even when times were hard. He was a prankster and I fondly remember his banter with Jonty and the then young Jacques Kallis (ed: I could have sworn Jacques Kallis was born at age 32 with bat in hand).

Allan Donald was his go-to man, Pollock the newcomer of distinguished lineage. Herschelle Gibbs marked the role of restless youngster to perfection and Dave Richardson his reliable old sage. Even as a young man, Cronje instinctively knew how to handle, utilise and shuffle his pack. I can’t remember a single instance where his decisions on the field were questioned by his team-mates; when those choices were dubious or cost them the game, Hansie was the first to admit his mistakes and the quickest to learn from them (alas, apart from the choking). He was in every sense a leader.

It was little wonder that South Africa quickly rose to the top of the international game. Talents like Gibbs, Boucher and Ntini flourished from the nutrition provided by Hansie and coach Bob Woolmer. The results began to evolve as they won the Asia Cup – their only ICC trophy – in Dhaka. I remember as he held the trophy; I was watching with tears in my eyes. All he said was ‘It’s heavy, but I don’t want to put it down’.

In the 1999 World Cup, South Africa were the hot favourites. It was there that I saw the first signs of my captain's weakness. Hansie took the field with an ear-piece to communicate with Woolmer, a move he later paid for. South Africa’s previously impressive top order began to rely more on Lance Klusener's WMD finishes. In the excitement and amid a remarkable run of “Zulu” form, the otherwise perceptive Hansie Cronje let his team play; he should have united the team and reminded them of their duties.

Personally, I loved it. Klusener is and will always be my 1999 World Cup hero, but in there is no way Allan Donald should have been the man at the other end with Zulu when the likes of Kirsten, Gibbs, Cullinan, Kallis, Cronje and even Pollock came before. I thought the 1999 World Cup semi-final was the first and last time the Proteas would break my heart.

And then came Cronje-gate.

Image courtesy: wn.com

I distinctly remember the day Hansie confessed his crimes. I was leaving for a vacation and woke up early to start my travels. I picked up the newspaper – it's first page featured a huge picture of Hansie crying and the headline “Match-fixing scandal rocks the Cricket world”. To say I was devastated is an understatement. Till then, I had vehemently defended Cronje, strongly believing the allegations to be a set-up. Anyone and everyone who loves cricket was shattered by the revelation but for me it was more personal: it was the ultimate and immutable demise of my hero.

I was disgusted that he had persuaded team-mates to join him and shocked by the tremendous flaw that the match-fixing scandals revealed in a man I respected. It pained me to see what he had reduced his cricket to, to what he had reduced himself. Those are the only emotions I recall from those days – betrayal and an overwhelming sadness. Even still I couldn’t bring myself to hate him, rather I was grateful when he stepped aside and accepted his bans with grace. I couldn't bear to see him stoop lower.

Cronje broke my heart a third time with his untimely death. It's indicative of the man that sometimes I feel he's still alive, on an island and living it up. In these times, he's grinning from ear to ear as only Hansie can.

It's probably pretty plain that I forgave him quickly. His incredible betrayal could not taint the memories he had given me over the years and neither could it stain his leadership and passion for the game. Hansie Cronje may have changed cricket forever with his misguided activities, but for me it doesn't detract at all from the confidence he provoked in the Proteas and, by extension, his gift to the cricket world.

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My Favourite Cricketer: Wasim Akram by Blaise Murphet

In our series "My Favourite Cricketer", Balanced Sports and World Cricket Watch invite the best cricket writers and bloggers to contribute articles explaining what makes, for the, one player rise above the rest.  Today features Wasim Akram by World Cricket Watch's contributing editor, Blaise Murphet.

I think when you’re asked to consider your ‘favourite cricketer’ you don’t really think about statistics, you think of a players swagger, his style, and of amazing performances that you have witnessed either on television or first hand.

Bowling in England.  From: wasimakramlive.net

So, when thinking of the ultimate fast bowler, a natural checklist emerges in one’s mind. Does he have searing pace? Can he make the ball ‘talk’? Does he have long hair that flows in the wind? What about the maniacal smile that is the trademark of all the greats? Well, in my mind there is only one man who fits the bill and that is the greatest Pakistani player of all time, Wasim Akram.

In an international career that spanned almost twenty years, Akram tormented batsmen right across the globe. But, before I talk more about the unbelievable greatness of the man, let’s cast a quick eye over his outstanding career statistics.

Currently placed ninth on the all-time test wicket list, Wasim’s 414 test wickets obviously rank him right up there with the greats. These wickets, I might add, came at an average of 23, and I’d confidently suggest that his almost 3000 test runs at 22 would be far better than any others at the top of the bowling lists. If he’s test record isn’t enough, then just consider his ODI record. World Cup winner, 502 wickets at 23 and a powerful lower-order batsman, Wasim had it all. However, as I’ve argued before, averages and statistics only tell a very small part of a cricketer’s story, and in the case of Wasim Akram, this couldn’t be more true.

If you will allow me then to return to the checklist I mentioned earlier, we can further consider the greatness of Wasim.

There is no doubt that Wasim’s partners in crime, Imran Kahn and Waqar Younis, had more pace, however Wasim just appeared quick. Batsmen often talk of a bowler seeming quicker than they are, and Wasim always seemed to rush even the best. Wasim also had amazing long flowing hair, which some might argue has nothing to do with bowling ability. I beg to differ. Fast bowling is as much about style and presence as it is skill and precision. You just knew certain bowlers had batsmen beaten before a ball was bowled. For Curtly Ambrose his height and gold pendants positioned him as a higher being. Dennis Lillee had the flowing hair, bushy moustache and chest hair/revealing shirt combination which made him seem like a wild man. Glenn McGrath on the other hand, always appeared symmetrical, precise and well groomed, which conveyed his meticulous bowling prowess. 

Wasim had whippy jet black hair that suited his bowling action and a maniacal smile which gave him incredible presence. He always seemed very personable, but could switch in an instant, meaning that batsmen never knew when he would blow up. He also had an amazing approach to the crease which seemed slow, but exploded at the crease so Wasim could send down thunderbolts.

Courtesy: icc-cricket.yahoo.net

His pace and presence aside though, Wasim’s greatest asset was his ability to make the ball ‘talk’. I’ve actually heard it said that Wasim could make the one delivery swing both ways before arriving at the batsman and although I never saw this, I can say with certainty that I’ve never seen a bowler who could swing the ball so dramatically late. There really is something special about left-arm swing bowlers and Wasim was able to not only push the ball across right-handers, but swing it even further away and of course produce inswingers banned by the Geneva convention. This was perhaps most in evidence in Pakistan’s famous 1992 World Cup victory when Wasim was probably at his peak. Granted, his time as captain wasn’t greatly successful, but even later in his career, once he had shortened his run-up, Wasim still had the guile and intellect to dismiss even the best.

So, Wasim was a bowler of great skill, but there’s another important reason why I have chosen him to be my favourite cricketer. As a kid growing up I remember Pakistan as a very talented and successful cricketing nation. Players such as Wasim, Imran, Waqar, Aamir Sohail, Saqlain Mushtaq and Moin Kahn were standout players and - most importantly - played the game in the right spirit. Teams toured and played in fantastic cricketing cathedrals at Lahore and Karachi; whilst touring the sub-continent is always a challenging experience for teams, it was so because of the passion of the crowd and the talent of the home teams.

Things are very different now. No international teams have toured there since the Sri Lankan debacle and it seems highly unlikely we’ll see anything like Mark Taylor’s extraordinary 334* in 1998, or the thrilling series between England and Pakistan in 2000 where England knocked the winning runs in virtual darkness much to the chagrin of Pakistan's captain, Moin Kahn. The state of Pakstani cricket - and, more generally the country - is an absolute shame, as has been evidenced by continual player and administration corruption.

As such, it is with great pleasure that I look back to Wasim as a player who represents a great era for not only Pakistan’s cricket team, but also the country itself. Even if he was from a country that hadn’t had these terrible troubles I’d still judge him as one of the greatest ever; but to me he represents a shining light in a situation filled with darkness, a truly memorable figure. When I think of Pakistani cricket, I don’t want to think of corrupt managers, crooked players, and terrorist attacks. I want to think of searing pace, swinging Yorkers, fiery passion, and most of all the long swinging hair and dangerous smile of my favourite cricketer, Wasim Akram. 

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Guilty and Gone: Pakistani spot-fixers suspended

An ICC tribunal has announced that the three Pakistani cricketers accused of spot-fixing during their tour of England last year have been suspended for lengthy stretches. Then-captain Salman Butt received the heaviest ban, a 10-year suspension of which five years are suspended. 28-year old fast bowler Mohammed Asif was sanctioned for seven years including two suspended; the brightest young thing in world bowling circles, Mohammed Amir, received a five year ban.

Though spot-fixing is not as harmful to the game as match-fixing, it still remains an open lesion where players can earn money for sabotaging their own performances, which by extension detracts from their team's displays. The ICC needed to send a message that accepting bribes for any poor performance is unacceptable in the extreme and by removing those individuals from the game for what equates to five years, it has ensured that all three will feel financial and public pressure as a result of their misbehaviour.

Given the state of Pakistan cricket and that nation's variegated selection policy of past years, the bans probably aren't quite strong enough. Butt and Amir particularly will almost certainly return to represent their country at the highest level. By the time he returns, Amir - for whom there has been the most public sympathy and who has said that he will appeal the sentence - will only be twenty-three and entering his peak years as a bowler. His appeal will likely be based on his stance that he was just "following orders". Butt, whose heavier sentence confirms suspicions he was the ringleader, will be 31 in five years and liable still to be the best opener in Pakistan.

Though probably generous, five years seems close to the mark when Hansie Cronje and Salim Malik were dealt life bans for rigging the outcomes of matches. There is a strong body of opinion that any acceptance of bribes on-field should be an automatic expulsion from the game - that valuing financial reward more than the sport's virtue is enough to earn you the lifelong scorn of your peers and public. When I first heard about the "incidents" in August, that was my first reaction.

But what that doesn't take into account is a Western judicial tendency to allow second chances. Should Amir, Asif and Butt have been expelled from the game for life, others may have learnt from their idiocy but would the trio get a chance to reform? To rehabilitate? It's unlikely; they would be sent back to Pakistan to live the rest of their lives in admonishment. Punitive action must hurt the offenders no doubt; but any government should at least allow offenders the chance for remorse at a later date - if not, they risk becoming a dictatorship, something the ICC is loath to appear. When taking into account Amir's testimony, life-bans became increasingly more unlikely as small doubts grew as to whether the bowling pair were acting under captain's instruction. That suspended penalties have been assigned is the most ludicrous part of this sentence: the players knew their actions were illegal and ban-worthy: so having the threat of another ban around their necks is unlikely to stop them offending a second time. Perhaps a greater deterrent would have been to combine the years: Salman Butt could be reinstated at 35 and Asif at 35. That way each player has the slim chance of righting their wrongs at international level.

That only five years was meted out after the life bans were mooted may however be a decision which encourages burgeoning spot-fixers. If the remuneration is lucrative enough, a player may make the cost/benefit analysis that five years of their career is a price worth paying for millions of dollars. As a deterrent, a five-year ban only barely registers. The ICC has delved into the same muddy waters of the debate about capital punishment: is the deterrent effect worth the human cost?

Though guilty of Herschelle Gibbs-style dropping the ball on many occasion, the ICC has employed the right selection of tribunal panellists and the Pakistani trio have been found guilty after having evidence presented from all sides and the opportunity to defend themselves. Both the process and the verdict were arrived at fairly, and though sanctions took time to administer the process was (by ICC standards) transparent. The Pakistani Three's will have to live with their sanctions. The International Cricket Council will have to live with the precedent they've set.

The Very Powerful and the Very Stupid

“The very powerful and the very stupid have one thing in common – instead of altering their views to fit the facts, they alter the facts to fit their views. Which can be very uncomfortable if you happen to be one of the facts which needs altering”.

Doctor Who, played by Tom Baker in “The Face of Evil” (1977)


Mohammed Asif's reported request for asylum in England throws the role of players allegedly involved in spot-fixing into stark contrast. Gone are the callow days of cricket, farewell to “innocent until proven guilty”. No doubt Asif's suddenly found himself in more trouble than he could have ever imagined but an plea for safety of this sort really gives one an idea of what trouble these potentially misguided and undoubtedly unfortunate men will face at home.

When the safety of players is threatened due to on-field performance – or lack thereof – the first name mentioned is usually Andrés Escobar, the Colombian who was shot dead in 1994 after his own goal at the FIFA World Cup. It is thought that his own goal was the catalyst for heavy gambling losses sustained by drug warlords who then took their revenge on the Atletico National defender. Hansie Cronje was also subjected to death threats as a result of his role in the “tempted by Satan” affair of 2000 while mystery still surrounds the 2007 death of Bob Woolmer at the ICC World Cup. That Woolmer, the retiring coach of Pakistan, was to publish a tell-all memoir detailing gambling's arm-in-arm relationship with Pakistani cricket can hardly have eased suspicions of a gambling-driven murder.

That our athletes are subjected to such stresses makes me very, very sad. There's no question that each person seduced by gamblers, be it for information, point shaving/spot fixing or match fixing deserves to be punished to the full extent of the laws for that sport. If that's a flat ban, then so be it. Should the laws dictate fines and suspensions, then apply them to the fullest. But the laws need to be enforced by the police and the governing bodies and not by individuals. Taking one's frustration out on a person who's wronged you rarely helps a situation and tends only to complicate matters – but sporting pride or indeed national pride engenders such fierce parochialism that it becomes impossible to talk with a devotee in rational terms. A case of “white line fever” can develop remarkably quickly into the more serious “white line foaming at the mouth” and finally result in “white line dead-on-arrival”.

No doubt Mohammed Asif fears for his safety. He lives in a country in which disease, death and destruction are commonplace yet has risen to become one of the world's best fast bowlers and he's done this amidst violence on a scale that most of us could only have nightmares about. If he fears for his safety, you can be sure he has ample reason. To take money from gamblers means that you are always in their pocket – they can always approach you again, and if you ever refuse the option forever remains for them to “out” you. Or “off” you. And if exposed, you risk the scorn (at best) and the vengeful ire (at worst) of your country's sporting faithful. So no matter what your economic situation, to take money from these people is naive at best, clinically stupid at worst.

As the good Doctor tells us in the opening quote, the very stupid may think that gambler's money is just easy cash and this obviously is not the case. A fool isn't necessarily someone who doesn't see risk – that simply makes them unfortunate or unintelligent – a fool is someone who justifies that risk as worthwhile. And the very powerful will always have that power. Like any good gambler, the powerful ensure they hold all the cards before being dealt in. If only we could say the same for the very stupid.