Christopher Bantick writes in today’s Adelaide Advertiser that our professional cricketers should learn to cop it sweet (with respect to the decision of the umpire). I say a little less politely, and in the vernacular of my cricket-mad nephew Lewis, “Suck it up, princesses!”

Far better players than the current crop have had to deal with the vagaries of recalcitrant or hair-trigger umpires so why are our current players so precious? From Bradman to Border, champions have been at the receiving end of doubtful decisions and while they may have stood in disbelief or thrown looks of mock horror to the great umpire in the sky, they headed back to their bowler’s mark, their positions in the field, or to the clubhouse. And got on with life.

One might see cricket as a mirror to our society today, and if so we’re looking pretty plain. What’s with our insatiable desire to integrate technology into every aspect of our lives to solve all our problems? Because we can’t rely on imperfect humans to get things right. If technology says it is so, then it is so. Well, no. Life isn’t fair, and technology won’t save us from unfair decisions coming our way.

And the complete lack of patience on the part of batsmen (particular the Australian test team) is surely a reflection of our own need for immediacy, and our own inability to wait around, drumming our thumbs, waiting for something to happen. Our googling of answers rather than working things out on our own. What happened to the lost art of staving off defeat by eking out a Boycott-esque half-century off a couple of hundred balls?

The inability to knuckle down when your side needs you to stay at the crease was ably demonstrated by Brad Haddin, who strode to the pitch with Australia’s First Test second innings in a parlous state at five wickets down for a paltry 142. Does Haddin block a few and “get his eye in” while allowing Hussey at the other end to control the game? No, he starts lobbing balls into the outfield as if he’s in a Twenty20 match with a few urgent overs remaining rather than a few days of a Test Match still to play. Commentators on the idiot box complimented Haddin’s aggression because “he only knows one way to play”. That’s a compliment? How about knowing many different ways to play? After surviving for 14 balls and making six runs Haddin is caught and leaves the field.

The Indian team succumbed to the same problems – a lack of footwork and impatience – in their run chase. They had a day and a half for the chase but lasted less than fifty overs. Rather than weathering the accurate barrage of leather and making Australia work for the victory, the Indians decided to go out in a blaze of glory. Third last ball, swung high by Yadav over long on. The ball just clears Warner who is waiting on the boundary – six runs. The Indians in the crowd cheer. Last ball, identical shot by Yadav but the ball falls short into the waiting hands of Warner.

Reasons for not introducing third umpire video referral technology into cricket –

1. Can you imagine Dennis Lillee down on one knee, howling  “Howwwwaazzzzzaaaaat?!!!” at an implacable video screen?

[Real world corollary – technology dehumanises and impersonalises our interactions].

2. Waiting for the video decisions will allow broadcasters to sneak in even more advertising, and that stupid, spinning “Decision pending” graphic is horrendous.

[Real world corollary – we believe new technology gives us more time, but often it is a time-waster.]

3. The third umpire allows no room for honourable moments, like Adam Gilchrist in the 2003 World Cup cricket semi-final “walking the walk” and leaving the pitch after the umpire had incorrectly given him not out (see extract below). Or dishonourable moments, like Ricky’s grassed catch appeal.

[Real word corollary – relying on technology to make our decisions abrogates our own responsibility for proper behaviour and makes it easier to justify being morally braindead (“If I can get away with it, it’s okay.”)]

4. If the world game of football doesn’t have a video referral system to check whether that kick actually made contact with the diving primadonna’s ankle before issuing a red card, then why should cricket?

5. And finally, without the potential for human error, commentators (across the spectrum from professionals to punters) wouldn’t be able to sit back in the comfort of air-conditioned rooms and watch countless replays of the snickometer, hot-spotter and Hawkeye and curse and pontificate about how the umpire out in the middle (yes, that bloke standing in the blazing sun for hours on end) failed to detect contact between a small leather ball travelling at 140 km/h and a piece of willow 22 yards away, above the sound of thousands of chanting fans. Howzat?

[Real world corollary – as per the first reason – introducing umpiring technology into sport reduces chance and introduces boredom.]

And so I say again to our professional cricketers, walk the walk, get on with it, and please, suck it up, princesses.

Addendum

Adam Gilchrist on his decision to “walk the walk” (an extract from WALKING TO VICTORY by Adam Gilchrist; Macmillan Australia).

“I felt comfortable going into the middle, as I had for the whole tournament. I was repeating my catch words, “Test match, Test match”, in my mind, trying to get myself playing more like I would in a five-day game where preserving your wicket for the first 10 or 15 balls is the main priority, even if that means letting some balls go that you might want to hit over the fence.

I played and missed the first few from [Chaminda] Vaas before I took a leg bye off the fourth. The ball was keeping low, but it seemed like a better wicket than our first two games there. [Pulasthi] Gunaratne came on for his first over and he wasn’t as controlled with his opening few balls as Vaas. I found myself going for them. Suddenly, I had a four and a six under my belt. Matty Hayden came down at the end of the over. “Did you pre-plan that?” he asked. “No, I had no idea. I was just trying to watch the ball.”

When things like that happen, it tells me I’m thinking the right things and I’ve got a clear head. It felt good.

Vaas was bowling tightly, so we had to be wary of him. And Murali [Muttiah Muralitharan] was still to come, but you try not to bat against the other bowlers with those things in mind, because if you do, you’ll start premeditating shots and going after balls that aren’t there. We didn’t plan an assault on Gunaratne. He just gave us scoring opportunities.

After we plundered his second over, we had the satisfaction of seeing him taken out of the attack. They used their usual tactic and brought on a spinner – [Aravinda] de Silva. I wanted to be careful and wait for the opportunities. I was going well on 22 off 19 balls, seeing it like a football, when he came in for the second ball of his first over. He pitched it up and I went for an aggressive sweep, trying to hit it behind square leg. I got a thick, loud bottom edge. It bounced off my pad and I had no idea where it went.

“Catch it! Catch it!” I heard. I stood and turned to see that [Kumar] Sangakkara had it. I knew I was done. It was so obvious.

Then, to see the umpire shaking his head, meaning, “Not out”, gave me the strangest feeling. I don’t recall what my exact thoughts were, but somewhere in the back of my mind, all that history from the Ashes series was swirling around. Michael Vaughan, Nasser Hussain and other batsmen, both in my team and against us, who had stood their ground in those “close” catching incidents were definitely a factor in what happened in the following seconds. I had spent all summer wondering if it was possible to take ownership of these incidents and still be successful. I had wondered what I would do. I was about to find out.

The voice in my head was emphatic.

Go.

Walk.

And I did.

You decide. Watch Gilchrist walking on YouTube – www.youtube.com/watch?v=9gVI8sOtdNk

And Ricky catching – www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Bwn-uAWdoQ

Addendum 2 – Christopher Bantick’s article

Christopher Bantick on copping it sweet out on the cricket pitch