Protea in a choke-hold

In the run up to their first elimination game of the current ICC Championship Trophy Tournament, if not their first must-win game, the Proteas assured all and sundry that they had this thing under control. We are immune to the effects of the C-word. Check. Determined to do better this time. Check. Our heads are in a good space. Check?

Not so much as it turned out.

In fairness to the Proteas, this was not their typical choke. As described on this blog before, those involve chasing modest totals, procrastinating… uh, keeping wickets in hand, a sudden realization that with the required run rate soaring, the scoring rate needed to be kicked into high gear, at which point panic and collapse quickly precipitated a choke. Not this time. No sir.

Wednesday’s performance set a whole new standard, as far as choking goes: dimwitted strategy, superstitiously adhered to, combined with determination gone wrong to produce a brew extremely toxic to any Protea.

Before Wednesday, the Proteas only choked setting a total once: in the 2007 World Cup semi-final against Australia. Until today, this writer was sure that that was a special case: paying it backward for the famous 438 victory, as it were. To recap: the 2007 World Cup found the Proteas ranked second in ODIs, after spending much time at lower rankings, and in the same group as the then-still-world-beating Australians. The group match, the first match between the teams after the 438 victory, was an utter disaster for the Proteas: the Australians batted first and the Proteas had one of their worst days in the field ever. To add insult to injury, their fans kept chanting 438, as the Australians scored about 50 runs too many, courtesy of sloppy Protea fielding. As happens all too often, the Protea chase was effectively over by the time the first wicket fell. Then came the semi-final. The Protea brains thrust, assuming brains is not too strong a word, decided that an all out assault was the way to go. Amazingly wickets falling did nothing to slow the reckless batting. The scoring only slowed when the Proteas finally ran out of batsmen. Until Wednesday, I thought that was just a once off brain freeze. Silly me.

But that is just one factor is the epidemic of choking that is the Protea approach to ICC silverware. I once thought the “If Plan A isn’t working we do Plan A HARDER” approach was a unique to the Springboks. It’s time to admit that it may be a general South African problem. Notice how the Proteas bowled to short in their first game of the current tournament against India. You’d think that somewhere around the 150/1 mark somebody would say: “Hey, Skip, perhaps we should try something different…” No such chance. Even after the game Protea captain AB de Villiers insisted that you don’t want to bowl to full to these sub-continental teams – they might hit you down the ground. The fact that in the very next game, against another sub-continental team, Pakistan, the Proteas bowled full and won comfortably, raises one of two possibilities: either De Villiers was lying through his teeth, or, worse, he had his brain parked in neutral, and was simply repeating the coach’s game plan. “Yes, Coach. Sure, Coach. What tooth brush should I use today, Coach?”

The truth is that the Proteas have not shown any ability to respond to either opportunity or challenge once they are on the field of play, going back at least to the captain whose name shall not be mentioned. Shaun Pollock always gave the impression his bowling changes had been worked out the day before, and NOTHING was going to change it. Graeme Smith, in fairness, does a fair bit of homework, before coming up with his game plan. But once he’s done, no on-field event seem to affect the smallest change in the plan. And now De Villiers continues this cast-in-stone approach. Perhaps it’s time to get rid of the coach, altogether. Time to man up, and wake up, Skip. Tells us what you think. Take all the time you need.

The final factor that came into play today may be the Proteas’ determination not to choke backfiring. Determination is usually empowering. But it is a fine line between determination and obsession. And obsession is debilitating. Protea obsession was once defined by a certain blonde Australian spin bowler. Every time the Proteas headed Down Under, we were assured that this time they would sweep pesky boy out of the attack. Dimwit spoiler alert: tell one of the game’s most intelligent players ever what shot you will be looking to play against him. Oddly enough, each time the Proteas showcased their inability to play spin, while Shane Warne built a formidable reputation. By the end of it, no Protea batsman was more obsessed with succeeding than Darryl Cullinan. And the more obsessed Cullinan became, the easier it became for Warne to toy with him. The reason is simple: the more obsessed a batsman gets, the less he is able to play his natural game.

Given all of the above, how will the Proteas ever break out of the choke-hold? At this rate, one fears, it is destined to take a very long time. One senses it will take a team of youngsters, almost no-hopes, who will do the least to raise expectations. A team that plays an instinctive game, as opposed to the planned to the last detail approach of the current squad. Finals are won by moments of individual brilliance. Individual brilliance, by definition, can’t be planned in advance. Above all, it may take a team that don’t take themselves too seriously. And knowing how to have some fun out there, can only help.

Look no further than said 438 game for how this can be done. In the run up to the game, as they were preparing their plans, there is no way the coaching staff could have known the Proteas would be chasing a score well above 400. A case of no strategy is good strategy? If the coaching staff came up anything inspiring to say at the innings break, it has not made the headlines. So how did the Proteas do the impossible?

Recall that the bulk of the runs that day, 175 of them, were scored by one Herman Herschelle Gibbs, as spontaneous a player as ever to present his country. A man who don’t do much strategy. Or thinking for that matter. A man who does not allow determination to interfere with his ability to enjoy his game.

Or consider the disastrous Protea campaign at the 1999 World Cup. Most fans recall, painfully, the run out that ended that campaign. In truth, the campaign was a complete mess all the way through, the fine efforts of Lance Klusener at No. 9 notwithstanding. If your No. 9 is outscoring all other batsman, chances are the top order are not doing their job. If he does it consistently throughout an entire tournament, it suggests major issues. If you are successfully chasing totals, but winning by a single wicket, it is easy to see that it is just a matter of time before your luck runs out. That it did at the worst possible time is only true because the Proteas didn’t make the final. Imagine if the run out had cost us the Cup…

It is also worth remembering that at the time the Proteas actually had a brain thrust worth the name: Cronjé-Woolmer. At the height of their success, as later events would prove. And yet, at the time the brain thrust produced a strategy that saw Mark Boucher coming in as a pinch-hitter at No. 3. Worked great against the Cambridge 3rd XI, but somehow not so much against international teams. If Cronjé-Woolmer couldn’t get it right, there is no reason I would expect any combination of Arthur/Van Zyl/Kirsten/Domingo-Smith/De Villiers/Amla/Du Plessis to get it right. Having the captain adjust the strategy, as the game unfolds makes more sense than expecting the “brain thrust” to figure it all out in advance.

So, relax, AB. Trust yourself. And your team. Occasionally ask yourself if the coaching staff know what the @#$% they are talking about. Come up with a Plan B, if only to keep your mental faculties in a working order. Just in case. Get back to enjoying the game – the way you appear to enjoy playing in the IPL. Sometimes simpler is better.

The next choke in 5…4…3

As Protea fans look forward to supporting their team in the upcoming Championship Trophy, now would be a good time to ask: Are we just setting ourselves up for more disappointment? Will the team look good in games that don’t matter, only to break the fans’ hearts when the business end of the tournament rolls around? The main reason for asking is the Protea consistency for doing so: in five World Cup tournaments from 1996 to 2011 the Proteas have won one out of six must-win games (against England in 2007). That’s not counting the rain-induced fiasco in Australia in the first World Cup since readmission in 1992. The rain makes a nice scapegoat, but the fact is that even before the rain intervened South Africa faced a steep asking rate of 23 runs required from 13 balls. Hardly a guaranteed win.

If you’re hoping that the missing ingredient to Protea success has been Kirstonium (at least in the role of coach), the recent series against the Kiwis suggests otherwise. Something more fundamental seems to be going on. Spanning the careers of three captains and even more coaches, choking runs deep in this team. What could be the roots of this disease?

It may be noted that almost every choke happens with the Proteas chasing (the fine efforts of Lance Klusener and various successors notwithstanding), the sole exception being the 2007 World Cup when the Proteas came up with an utterly nonsensical strategy: just slog the Australians out of the contest. The contest was effectively over within the first half an hour. During the 2007 World Cup, Bangladesh highlighted how bad the Proteas were at chasing by beating South Africa, when the Proteas failed to chase down a modest total. The South African campaign was only saved by the inability of the West Indies to learn from the Bangladeshis. How long can we count of the inability of other teams to keep the Proteas competitive?

South Africans in general, and South African sportsmen in particular are great team players, not so great at individual sports (Ernie Els and his many benefactors notwithstanding) which would explain why, when the pressure is on, we do better fielding than batting. Unsurprisingly, coaches and captains are not eager to admit this.

But a preference for setting as opposed to chasing hardly explains the pathetic one in six winning record in must-win World Cup games. Something else is going on. It has something to do with the difference between a good goal and a good strategy. For example, in today’s ODI, each time your openers walk out to bat they both should have the goal of scoring 200 runs. But counting on both scoring 200 would be a very bad strategy, leading to a team selection of two batters, a wicketkeeper and eight bowlers, among other things. The reason is that even the best of your openers may never score 200 runs in a single innings.

By the same token, the Protea strategy of having one batsman “bat through” to the end if a fine goal and a terrible strategy. But it’s worse than that. That’s because the theory that a top order batsman is “keeping his wicket in tact” allows him to waste away potentially productive run scoring overs while scoring at a drip, when the runs should be flowing. Hence the required run rate heads ever higher as our hero bravely defend his wicket. Who needs an opponent? When our best surrender this meekly, a clever opposing captain would best leave him to it, trying not to smile to obviously.

A distinction should be made between setting targets and chasing them. When setting targets, the Proteas have turned the South African tendency to procrastinate into a fine art: most commentators will acknowledge that, on a good day, the Proteas can slog those last five or ten overs for more runs than any other team. But it is one thing to slog 26 runs off the final over when setting a target and every run is a bonus, knowing that getting caught is an acceptable risk. It is quite something else to try to score 28 runs off the final over when chasing a target, and knowing that getting out would lose the game, because we’re nine down (another Protea specialty).

Perhaps more to the point: is “batting through” a carefully thought through strategy, or just an excuse for slow batting, masquerading as clever strategy? Let’s consider how a typical must-win chase reach its anti-climatic finale: the required rate passes some ridiculous number, such as ten runs and over, and it is time for our hero to change gears, and show what he is made of. There is just one problem: he has played his eye in alright, but he’s calibrated it for three runs an over. Changing gears puts him in much the same territory as a new batsman. It is not as if he can throw a switch and suddenly send every ball flying into the stands. Uh oh, time for risks to be taken.

At this point of the game, meanwhile, the fielding side has grown in confidence and is sensing the opportunity: Can this be true? Steady lads, keep the bowling tight, and be ready at square leg when he unfurls his favourite stroke…

Inevitably our “established” new batsman gets himself out, having just squandered the bulk of the innings. The pressure on the incoming batsman is palpable and inevitably he, too, soon succumbs. Through it all spectator, player and coach are think the same thing: Why is this happening AGAIN? Somehow nobody thinks it’s because we are playing the same stupid strategy AGAIN.

It’s not complicated: the alternative is to require the top order to manage the required run rate, and let the wickets fall when they may. Staying ahead of the required rate means that every new batsman has a chance to at least play his eye in whether he comes out with five balls remaining or fifty. It is also a sure fire way to kill the fielding side.

After the Proteas’ 2011 World Cup campaign ended in familiar fashion, coach Corrie van Zyl objected to using the term choking when referring to his team’s performance. One can certainly sympathise with Van Zyl. He had achieved much in his career as a coach. It would be most unfair to dismiss it all under the tag “choker”. Alas, in the interest of South African cricket the truth needs to be spoken, offensive as it may be, to Van Zyl and to many of our former greats. The Proteas have been consistent chokers. And if they keep playing the same way, they will simply remain chokers.

Time for change. Gary Kirsten, are you out listening?