Junior Cricket

Season’s greetings. (& farewell).

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

Goodbye, it is, to most of that – most of that cricket, in any event. Age, infirmity and *life choices* have pointed me towards part-time work, but “my god” (as Sean Kelly might say) it hasn’t felt like that.

Selection sessions, winter nets then a belter of a summer on junior pathways: seeking ‘extras’ here and there to top up the dollars supply. Still loving it and still feeling like I can relate (and make a meaningful contribution) despite the swathe of geological time between me and The Lads – and it has mostly been lads. Overnighters at Brecon and Aber – the latter still amongst my favourite sporting gambols – and tremendously disparate match days or squad days from April to late August.

Objective A, as always, to make these wee humans fall in love with the idea (the need!) to move, commit, to ‘look after their mates.’ Objectives B-Z around feeding their sense that this charging about is fabulous and natural and must be an enriching, evolving, lifelong way of being. So in this cricket-thing, be a better bowler – I hope I can help; I have questions. And be a better batter (I hope I can help, but show me what you got). And be quicker and more attentive and more agile in the field – this will help with everything. Being active helps with everything.

Not sure if I’ve chosen to be the guy who is friendly and daft, who works at or close to the entry-level for hard-ball cricket, or if that niche chose me. (Every year I coach various age-groups but overwhelmingly the earthlings in front of me are 10 or 11). Am neither frustrated nor intimidated by the idea that *therefore* maybe I don’t work in Performance Sport. (Partly because maybe I do?) And, despite being mid-spectrum between clown and instructor I am deeply conscious of the responsibility coaches at this stage hold, towards supporting confidence in those who may often be shit-scared of the ball. I’ve had a fifty-year love affair with the feel of a new cricket ball but few juniors aged 10 remain unintimidated by that sacred nut. They know it hurts – or can do. And that fear (of course) makes getting hurt a whole lot more likely.

But in my entire coaching career – I dunno, thirty-odd years, now? – I have only seen two or three players genuinely hurt by the ball. One, perhaps inevitably, got an ‘egg’ above his temple; another an extreeeemely sore shin. No broken fingers or hands. Plenty scuffed or grazed elbows and knees… but ver-ry few injuries down to the pill itself. Loads of theatrical falls-after-the-event – and this maaay bee increasing, for which I blame Premier League footballers. It may well be politically incorrect to talk of ‘drama queens’, these days, but we are seeing some of that, for sure.

Kids are great though, eh? Still mad; still frantic or wonderfully free; still eating crap and listening less than you’d like.

Feeble digression – because it meant quite a lot. A young female coach recently told a small group of us coaches at a particular festival that she’d never seen kids listen like my group listened to me. I was touched by that. Hope it’s because I’m keeping it simple enough, appropriate enough: suspect it’s also because there’s always a joke – a giggle – in the pipeline. But yeh. I was touched by that.

Kids are great. Be honest, you want to run on and punch them when they get The Wildest of Run-outs *after wickets have been tumbling* but it happens. When the universe is screaming JUST HOLD and the coach is preaching calm and concentration. It happens because 10 year-olds are particularly (though not exclusively) vulnerable to Psychotic Contagion and they do ridicu-stuff when stressed. It’s bloody frustrating but also fabulously fascinating how often young players march out there, often too quickly, bat in hand, before succumbing to The Most Reckless Shot in Living Memory – a shot they’ve resolutely put away through 14 weeks of winter training then two spookily encouraging squad days. But the moment comes and they kinda want it over, one way or another*. They swish. And it is over.

(*Apologies to regular readers. Have repeatedly described this moment in the same or similar way. But it does fascinate me. And it does feel like they want it over).

The frequency of this event is startling and rich. That volume speaks to the power of the scrambled mind – across sports, across life. I love that one of the jobs for any coach/mentor/teacher (different roles, I appreciate) is to reconcile that sensational and cruel interface between a moment’s anxiety and the expression or execution of a skill.

It’s theoretically possible for a coach to be life-changing around this; by being sensitive to a player’s frailty (or otherwise) and providing a lead, a word and/or an environment which mitigates against ‘mind-less failure’ and towards confident execution. Mostly, in my experience, we fail, in the sense that our players continue to get out, with nerves being central to the dismissal. But supporting the player, building the environment, reinforcing the necessary skills can and does impact upon this – positively. ‘Grown-up’ players often reflect on how enjoyable and supportive their early experiences in the game are… and how important a particular coach was, in a) instilling or inspiring confidence and b) (therefore) kickstarting a journey they now know will be decades long. So go find me a job that’s more rewarding than that.

When not coaching I’ve been playing or travelling to play. Hilarious, given my age. But Seniors Sport – Seniors Cricket – *really is* a thing and I’m privileged and proud to have fallen into it.

I had almost no adult playing career because football, family life and work obscured that possibility. So I’ve been playing catch-up for the last three seasons, often alongside really good players who have had (I kid you not) half a century of Proper Cricket. I loved bowling as a kid and I still do: I’ve come back to it. Part of me still thinks I’m John Snow – or maybe Mike Hendrick, a less combative sort, from memory. I ‘run in’, or more exactly perhaps, I have failed so far to capitulate to bowling the leg-spin I know (actually) I could bowl. Because I love the feeling of a new cricket ball in my hand. I like and maybe even want the challenge of bowling the first over.

Mostly I’ve done okay, for mighty Llanrhian CC and for Wales 60s 3s and 4s. Unsurprisingly, I’m kinda play-cricket averse (us old guys know when we’ve bowled ok, yes?) so I’m not gonna quote stats at you. There have been highs and lows, including scrambling the winning run off the last ball of a 45 over semi-final game for Wales and then losing in the last over the following week(!) (Took three wickets in that final but was disappointed to concede significantly more runs than I would have liked. But hey, that’s sport. Kent were good and it really could have gone either way).

Enjoy my club cricket at an especially idyllic, mad-rural club but have found the camaraderie (and yeh, the craic) with Wales Seniors to be a revelation. So much so that at some stage I will surely write about it. Said it many times to many people over the last year or two but I’ve played a lot of sport: never enjoyed any of it as much as I’ve enjoyed the games with our posse of Superannuated Taffs. It’s a brotherhood I’m proud and privileged to belong to.

‘Early Season’.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

Extraordinary times. Driving through an apocalyptic hailstorm in LLandewi Velfrey en route to (you guessed it) some cricket coaching stuff in Carmarthen. Cursing the mysterious disappearance of my Cricket Wales bobble hat just when I needed it most: fellow coach Rhys wearing headgear that could only have been stolen from an un-horsed Cossack. Under 12 boys activated, entertained and warmed, over two goolie-shrinking hours.

Or over to Ynystawe, where the Girls’ Pathway coaches still haven’t thawed out from the previous four days of Siberian action. Misdirected by the reassuring local, out front of his house, wheelbarrowing purposefully but plainly confusing clubs. No dramas; soon find myself encouraging and offering throwdowns – because surely we’re all cold? – without wanting to disturb the quiet vibe. Needing now somehow to suppress my own energetic thrum but still remain temperate. And then forty overs umpiring. ‘Early Season’.

I love this early season. The madness, the toeness, the fingersness; the ecstatic, yellow, wintry lightness. Spectacular. Ridiculous. Impossible and re-connecting. Re-grooving. The Return of The Evening. The return of playing and missing and of wild but innocent leg-side wides: dozens of them. Junior flocks – like dumb, frozen seagulls, gathered in the ring. (Hey. Are their feet *actually frozen?*)

On the Bigger Stage it snowed, too. Yorkshire. Glam punching but then snuffed out, more in fact by that wintry quilt than by Big Bro’ Root. The forecast – chez Roots and countrywide – sunny but cold. Soon enough back to Sophia Gardens ‘gainst the Southern Softies from Hove… and what do we have? It’s sunny but cold. The pitch is a road and all is well. Glam 30-odd for 3. Then recover. Then as the shadows lengthen…

Our cricket clubs… our juniors…and how we do this thing better.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

The bigger picture: @cricketmanwales is in the market for slinging ideas around and would be over the proverbial parrot if they triggered pretty much any kind of response. This is a friendly challenge – even if you reject it in a patronised huff.  It may mean nothing (not to me!) but @cricketmanwales has just been recognised by the ECB with an award for ‘Outstanding Contribution’ to Coaching.  So listen.

Firstly, housekeeping; there is no suggestion here that my/your/our club ‘model’ is necessarily broken, merely (like everything else) we can improve it. And maybe we need to. Secondly, I am acutely aware of the EM Forster notion that we may plan at the expense of joy – this may feel relevant. On that, two things;

1. I am abso-lutely in the free-spirited expressionist camp. Be witty and spookily in the moment.

2. The planning I’m onnabout here may be the gentle thinking ahead variety rather than any training dogma.  We must not do cricket practice by numbers, eh?

My friends I know how magbloodynificent much of the work that goes on in cricket clubs is and in no way am I looking to undermine that. Fact is though, (I think) despite the superlative efforts of the Essential Posse at every club – you know who you are – it’s proving difficult to retain players right through their teens and into glorious cricketing adulthood. So we need to do something.

Many things which compete or conspire against us cricketpeeps we simply cannot control. The proliferation of opportunities, the alleged decrease in attention span, the lust for instant reward – that’s all anti-cricket, or anti- Traditional Cricket, right? (There’s another argument here, around whether or how or why we might change the nature of cricket itself but let’s scoot right on past that baby, for now.)

The twitchiness and bitchiness of most of our modern interactions clash gaudily against the deep, rich stillness that characterises some forms of cricket. Be honest, that probably works against us? But as much as I’d like to offer oil painting classes and art cinema at Haverfordwest CC only some of this crazy flux is our responsibility. We can’t sort every headless-chicken of a thing. We can, however maximise or tailor the qualities of that defiantly philosophic, world-contrarily brilliant phenomenon we’ve got our hands on – cricket. Cricket in our clubs.

But wadda we need to do, I hear you ask?

People, it’s not like I or anyone else can direct you absolutely on this.  I’m throwing down a few thoughts here but the more I do this the more central the ability to ask good questions becomes.  So go do that.

Ask questions of the nature of what you’re doing as well as about the process of skill development. How are we sounding… to youngsters? Sure, cricket practice  needs those dry, instructive and reflective periods – it demands those, in fact – so steering kids through that is one of our responsibilities. But how do we keep all this jazzy and attractive enough to junior earthlings (too?)

A note here: coaching better doesn’t mean getting ‘too serious about stuff’ – as many seem to fear: it means being on the case and (asitappens) probably having a giggle. It means being sensitive to the mood of an individual and/or a group. It means being prepared as well as responsive – intuitive. And yeh – it’s a big ask.

One of the things we might do better is to increase the amount of fun/entertainment we offer during training. More than anything, perhaps, we should look to avoid drift; drift stifles both enjoyment and learning. (Doesn’t sound very sexy I know but) preparation and reflection can help us keep sessions bright and keep our young players with us.

So let’s have a wee think about stuff. Our responsibilities as coaches/cricket people are what, exactly?

Amongst many other things…
• To develop players towards excellence?
• To animate and enthuse?
• To ensure everyone remains healthy and safe.

To achieve these things what do we need? All three demand some planning; whether or not this is back of a fag-packet stuff or immaculate tables of options. Do something that works for you – I know what time pressures are all about, believe me.

My general proposal is that we become better focussed by setting out our objectives – perhaps our individual sessions? – significantly more clearly. Far from ‘putting young players off’, I think that we will retain and entertain our young players if we offer them something dynamic, something that leads them somewhere –  something other than just a hit, a throw, a bowl. For me, the essence of this has to have good energy; it has to grip these young people.

Let’s go back that one important step. Statistically, we are losing players from the game in the mid-late teens; I think this is partly because coaches let sessions drift or fail to inspire and these are things we can to some meaningful extent address.
If we accept at the very least that we could do things better so it may well follow that we need to plan things enough to make progress possible.

As an example if we ask ourselves what (broadly) we might need to cover with our young players, we might suggest;

• Core skills
• The generic game – an understanding of what you do
• Team needs

Then we need to address how best to offer up these skills. I’m suggesting a flexible coaching plan (Brit weather!) where ideally we set out objectives for individual sessions and for the season, with age-appropriate, challenging practice.  I stress again that your planning is there to free you up, to be the springboard from which you can confidently bound: I am FOR responsive, ingenious, individualised coaching.

We have to surely combine this with cool, longish-term thinking. Think through percentages of time spent on the three chief disciplines; think about how – and how much – technical information you give out. (Give kids four things to think about not forty-four!) Think about maintaining energy and focus throughout sessions in particular – about how you can minimise drift.

As coaches I’d suggest that an important part of what we do is both an assessment of how players are doing… and how well our sessions have gone… and relationships (the link, if any) between the two things.

Plus is there a way that we can support each other on what we do? Should we be having a monthly pow-wow to keep up to speed with player’s progress and our own delivery? Wouldn’t it be great if coaches shared ideas about particular sessions or games? It’s so-o beneficial to pick up a variation on a game – or a completely new drill – that can be both a hoot and a really healthy challenge. I love that.

Clearly there are issues of diplomacy around even the most casual and friendly coach ‘share’ sessions. Not always easy to find the right level of ease – we ain’t all extroverts, are we? But they are typically entertaining and genuinely instructive moments so find a way of holding the occasional coaches gathering where you throw around some cones or balls. Folks tend to be supportive once you get past any reticence.

Nets are for me the obvious example of where most clubs underachieve. Far too often somebody gets padded up and smashes through the ball for twenty minutes before somebody else does the same. Meanwhile bowlers bowl too much/too casually/without any real commitment. This must change. We need (and I would argue that the young players need)
• less nets/better nets
• clear objectives set by the coach – specific shots/specific gaps?
• a considered and challenging environment which seeks to replicate match conditions
• in other words, FOCUS
• plus… importantly, better attention to SAFETY ISSUES. How many close calls from a straight drive have you seen recently?

Maybe in nets we need cones to mark out where fielders are, we need two batsmen who actually run, we need CHALLENGES and DISCUSSION and LEADERSHIP from the coach. We need reasons to be doing what we’re doing.

I repeat that even though I know hard-ball-competent junior player’s first thought is to ‘go have a net’ and that they therefore equate that most immediately with real practice, it often tends to be poor practice. Guys and gals, we need to sort this one out. In a nutshell, reduce and improve your time in the nets.

This feels longish… and yet the strip’s barely been scratched. Enough, for now.

Whether we like it or not, we are facing all sorts of challenges – financial/competition from other clubs or sports/apathy amongst players and the general population(?) All these are arguments for improvement – for change. It’s a big ask. Especially when most of us are simply volunteers. But comrades… I’m asking. How can you/we/I do this thing better?