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?
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