sports

Coaching engagements.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

I’m not normally disposed to equivocation or blandness, I hope. But loyalty towards The Mob – and even towards people or policies that (ahem) challenge or trouble me – will mean that the following lacks the kind of candour that I might unleash in a year or two’s time, when I dip out of this coaching malarkey. For now, I still love it and mightily respect colleagues on the pathways that I have been working on. Anyhow: hope these generalities aren’t toooo lame…

Top Man asked recently how many years I’ve been active on coaching pathway(s) in my neck of the woods. Honestly don’t know. And the memory fails and the urge to go digging for ancient manuscripts – well, maybe pics from Aberystwyth – is weakish, to be honest. Fifteen years or more, I would think, as a paid employee ‘in cricket’. Been bloody marvellous.

Think I’m hoping to slap down a few thoughts on what coaching has or might or can look like: feel free to engage in rapturous approval or shoot me down as just a junior coach.

Understand this sharing implies a certain level of arrogance, underpinned as it is with the idea that I’m somehow worth listening to, or *have ideas*. But know what? I think I probably do… and will counter and deflect that arrogance thang by saying that much of what I feel I know (and want to ‘pass on’) is notions, confidences, practice(s) built by watching better people, better coaches. I am clear that I have been working alongside (or assisting, or being assisted) by brilliant people.

So what do they do? They hold the attention of players. They sometimes demonstrate… and they do it well – impressively, even. (Yup; I know. We’ll come back to this). They both drive sessions along – planning and scheduling – and absolutely allow and respond for reading the room; feeling-out what’s appropriate, changing tack, given the energy or level of understanding of the players. They are wonderfully disparate characters – of course they are! – some bit schoolmasterly, some almost tough and it’s hard to reduce their multifarious, individual approaches to commonalities – to ‘good practice’. But we better try.

Coaching is a fabulously rich job, whether paid or volunteer. (Done masses of both). I know coaches who have presence, or who can genuinely capture or even inspire by something more than their capacity to communicate. They go right past direct or directed meanings. They have an aura and the players buy in: they want to follow, never mind process learning. These kinds of coaches aren’t necessarily the best but the power of their personalities can be compelling and rich and often engaging in a deep, natural and human kindofaway. (Apols if that lumps all kinds of contentious categories into a dodgy and abstracted bundle but I’m hoping you know what I mean?) They tend to be ‘colourful’ and ‘individual’ and ‘responsive’ because they are all of those things: they are perceptive, sensitive, original people who happen to have skills in sport. And communication. And diplomacy. And performance – of both, or multiple types.

For the coaching to really work, players have to listen and they have to get better, yes? (Or no? There’s a thesis and an argument that outputs aren’t at all the essential work or the essence of coaching but plainly pathways are inevitably judged at least in part on where the players finish up). As always, things depend. What age-group are we talking? What standard? I am happy to report that I have done most of my work at the entry level to this marvellous meat-market – under 10s and 11s, typically. I try like hell to improve players but more than anything I think, I am trying to make these wee earthlings fall in love with a game: a game that they might well play into their 60s. But back to measurements.

Coaches with ‘something about them’ may be in a better position to galvanise players than quieter, more cerebral types. (But not necessarily). The Aura Guys (and Gals – or however they identify!) may have a kind of Route A towards happy, entertained learners – learners who *do* fall in love with the game (or the sessions)… and maybe they come to idolise the coach – something we have to be pretty careful about.

Aura Guys (& gals, etc) may be susceptible to ego, to showboating, to laziness, perhaps, around necessary disciplines in the game and in their own preparation. They may be so interested in playing to their gallery that they forget to coach. Having said that, my experience is that *mostly*, what I’m going to call humour (in sessions, in matches) can be key. Humour meaning temperature; meaning flavour; meaning wit. Positive, rich, confident and often downright enjoyable team humour can start with a coach who brings upful energy as much as (s)he brings knowledge.

But what about the majority of us, who ‘lack’ charisma? Well our sessions need to be compelling in a different way. It is necessary that they are. The capture must come from out of the black and white stuff: good thinking; good planning; challenges that work on the skills in a way that feels productive and supportive. It’s absolutely possible to host brilliant sessions without being an extrovert… but my experience suggests that (maaaybee with young players in particular?) it’s a tough gig without bringing high energy activity. (So get players racing, or buzzing, or giggling as they fly into or through the drills). Enjoyment is such a big part of achievement – is so closely related to it so often.

‘Low-key’ coaching makes sense in a zillion ways – not least because it fits with the whole player-centred cowabunga – of which we all solidly approve. This should not be about the ego of the host, but the needs and capacities of the recipients. However, the vibe, the energy needs to be bright, and somehow liberating.

Somewhere at the start of this thing we mentioned demonstrations. I have mixed feelings about coaches doing demo’s, having experienced the pluses and minuses. Plainly – and we might say historically – this can feed straight into the idea of a coach being some experienced and therefore entitled demagogue. Probably driving performatively, in the vee, with head remarkably and mesmerically still. This can of course be anachronistic cobblers, much more about the needs of middle-aged blokes than the needs of players… and I have no issue with anybody calling it out as such. But it can also be instructive, if handled well. For one thing, some players *really are* visual learners. So even if Middle-aged Geezer Posing with Bat is overly full of himself, it may be that the movements may be registering in a way that supports development.

A contemporary view of this could be that like issuing penalties for dropped catches/bad listening/repeat ‘failures’ it shouldn’t be happening, because there are better options available – like offering guiding principles, not absolutes or methods. In situations like this – i.e where demonstrations might once have been Option A – I often tell players that coaching has changed on this, and that maybe they should try to find a way towards the particular objective. A way that might work repeatedly, consistently. And offer shapes or advisories or further questions if we aren’t getting to where we want to be – or towards where we want to be? I’m increasingly using words like awareness and even the phrase ‘trying to be conscious (of our movements’) as well repeating my fave mantra over many years, namely “how do we make this work?”

Coaching is about reading the room, being sensitive, encouraging, supporting. Having knowledge but being able to use that to offer good questions rather than lectures. Sure, be A Voice and maybe An Entertainer if that comes naturally to you. If it doesn’t you can still make it work. Think about it; be authentically you and allow (or make) the material of your sessions capture and engage your players.

To begin… at the ending.

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Oof. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Not out on pens. Not tonight.

Most of Wales was saving up the hwyl, or the Ultra-hwyl for next week – for The Big One. But no. Bosnia and Herzegovina did that stealth-bomb-victory thing; firstly creeping into the game, then nicking it, as two Welsh players – Johnson and Williams – had radar malfunctions over their spot-kicks.

Johnson had been anonymous all night, and this always makes me think that a player not on his game just shouldn’t take a penalty. Know many will either disagree, or say that top pro’s can switch that bad energy off and stroke the ball home, even in that prodigious moment. Not sure I agree. If I’m the gaffer I take charge and look deep into the eyes of my players. I take it out of their hands (or yaknow, feet). If they either seem tremulous or they’ve played like a donkey, they don’t take the pen.

Not that Johnson played *really poorly*: he was just mediocre. As was Dan James – who is mediocre – until that extraordinary moment where he latched on to a ball beyond the last man (as per his entire career) but then took it spookily and magnificently early and smashed it past the Bosnian keeper. As absolutely not per… but truly gloriously.

O-kaay, the keeper was leaden-footed, for sure, but again we might credit the forward for striking (as it were) on the up and, if we were cruelly-inclined, against the grain of pret-ty overwhelming evidence. It was a brilliant, brilliant goal, from a genuinely mediocre player, who despite what you heard from the painfully myopic commentary team, had been his usual wasteful, sloppy, kick-ball-flytastic self for most of the first period. (But hey – ain’t life wonderful?)

The visitors had predictably adopted the ‘take no prisoners’ approach. Equally as predictably, James and Wilson were both guilty of exaggerating contacts – something the referee seemed notably unimpressed by.

The fella’s probably been reading my socials. Unpopular opinion number eight zillion: the ref had a largely decent game, and seemed to read those two players particularly well. Meaning his homework has probably included watching a good deal of the Prem or Championship over recent years. The crowd, of course, mostly bayed their disapproval at his appalling bias.

Wales started well, without creating. Ampadu and Wilson looked like players but Bellamy’s side again lacked bite or brilliance in and around the box… until James’s stunning intervention. Later, when the game began to drift from them, Harris, Cullen and Thomas came on to provide legs/energy/threat. Only the latter succeeded. Cullen committed one particularly bad foul then jogged around avoiding the game. (I think he has done that a little, for Wales). Harris had only a couple of meaningful interjections. Thomas, playing wide right then cutting-in to curl crosses or slide passes to the edge of the box, did well – was probably the home team’s best player in the last forty minutes – but there was no fox-in-the-box or thrillingly out-of-the-blue James-like cannon from outside of it. It had ‘one goal is not enough’ written all over it.

Bosnia were set to contain for as long as… and could do that. On the basis that one goal conceded left them well in the contest. Rivetingly, their number ten gave one of the worst or weakest exhibitions of forward play you are ever likely to see: he could have won the damn thing, before overtime, but fell into almost comical (but obviously tragic) serial-fluffing. (Later he was gifted their first penalty, which of course he missed). But they were in the game – from about the hour mark, they were in the game.

Dzeko, almost criminally, given who he is/what he does, squeezed in a header to equalise and then it was pens. No real argument. In the way of these things – in tournament football, I mean – Bosnia had opened out just a little and looked at least as likely to score as Wales did, as the match huffed and hustled to its cruel-joyful destiny.

There had to be a denouement and there was. But let’s deep-dive into sacrilege before we face-plant into it. Take the characteristically tremendous crowd out of this (as if you could, or would!) and maybe the event would’ve seemed kinda tepid, despite the exfoliating drama? In the sense that the fayre was mid-quality, at best. (We should mention in passing here that the visiting fans were a blast, right?) but the wider, erm sandblasting truth might be that Wales have two really good players – Wilson and Ampadu – and Bosnia had one – the superannuated Dzeko – and he was substituted, knackered, for extra-time.

Wales thought they would be roaring to glory or doom against the might of Italia. They’re not: they’re out.

Town.

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Fan-dom. Funny old game, eh? Maybe particularly when you’re a part-timer (like me), living 340 miles from the object of your viceral-tribal lurv-thing, or whatever it is.

Town. Grew up there and went to virtually every home game, aged 10-15. Then plenty more aged 15-22. Then on special occasions; ‘home visits’.

Been in Wales, see, for forty years or more. (And what a glorious privilege it’s been). So family life – my own, kids etc – got in the way of journeys Up North and back in time. But been doing more, largely due to our mum’s illness, and it’s all tugging a bit.

With every visit the realisations multiply, somehow. Unconscious or inexplicable truths around the magnitude of early life, early mates. Might not be the case for everybody but clear to me now that those mates from Primary School were and are about as good and as key as you’re ever gonna get. Torn between eulogising them and moving on: the universe probably needs to hear about the fabulous ordinary guys who have carried me through life, and will probably carry me out of it, unsung. But too intrusive of their quietness to go naming it. Too invasive of their unshowy, implacably honest ground.

All this feeds in to football. Those individuals; our tribe. I walk the genuinely grim or grimy streets around Blundell Park, on *that mission*: to go support the lads. (Yes they do finally have a women’s team but I’m too late and too far away to participate in that welcome ‘innovation’). The lads, who used to be Stuart Brace and Matt Tees before Terry Donovan and Mike Brolly became the boys Vernam, Rose and Warren. Six times I’ve walked in there, in the last year, through but with the other daft buggers in their Town clobber. Dads. Grandads. Mums. Daughters. All kinda sounding the same. All wanting the same and feeling some kind of connection: to this Town; to this place.

Football. I hate loads about it – the cheating, the money, the ‘Authorities’ near and far. The 21st century moral black hole of it. But walking briskly in, as you do, to Grimsby Town FC, at Blundell Park Cleethorpes is a wonderful, grounding pleasure. And it registers win lose or draw.

Last night I couldn’t be there. And/but they were on the tellybox. Tranmere. We’re 9th, they’re 16th in the table, or were. I’m watching from Pembrokeshire.

It looks a decent night – and the commentator says as much – before soon changing his tune. (You’re right up against the Humber/North Sea estuary multiplex, generally haunted by apocalyptic, cod-hurling ‘showers’. We soon got one). Important game for both sides; the brief interviews with the respective managers reinforced that view. Artell for GTFC thoughtful in that articulate, passive-aggressive way that he has.

Town have been dropping-off, results-wise, despite having a good coach and a solid, possibly even exceptional wider culture. Whether it’s a dip in confidence, or the presence of TV cameras, who knows, but Grimsby are poor in the first half. The squad has as many players who look good on the ball as the top handful of sides in the division but they fell into that awful lower-league hoofing-thing. Almost every contact with the ball was a ‘clearance’. It was Sunday League. Tranmere were better *and* they were winning every second ball. (So not only were Town failing to play to their footballing strengths, they were failing to compete). No complaints that Tranmere lead 1-0 at the break.

I’m a coach and slinger of wild opinions so let’s get into this. Warren, Turi, Vernam and Rose are good players at this level. And more broadly Artell has deliberately gathered a squad who can play patient, skilful (dare I say it?) intelligent football. Phases of passing. Good movement. Ball into feet. Rehearsed plays. I’ve watched them do it, often impressively. Last night they were without their best player, McEachran, who sits and passes and turns and makes the thing tick. But Turi – the guy tasked with filling the McEachran-shaped hole – can also play. Last night, for much of the game, Pym, the keeper and the likes of Warren (unusually and disappointingly) were clattering the ball over his head, bypassing the central midfield.

This is ok if it works. Last night, for 45 mins plus, it was bloody awful. Turi failed to show, or impose his will on the frankly amateurish chaos around him. Rose almost literally never got a touch, reinforcing the belief that he simply can’t play unless Town are threading balls in to feet. Vernam had an absolute ‘mare, from start to finish. Walker – who *does do* this – spent about an hour solely intent on drawing fouls. (For me, he was an embarrassment but he’s not alone at the club for ‘falling easily’: and yes I am happy to call out the coaching staff on this. Of course they are seeing #PremierLeagueLegends do this on a daily basis, but for me Artell and co should be discouraging it not using it as a strategic tool).

But on. To a second half where the Mariners found themselves and a good dollop of their game, equalising before probing for the winner that they may have deserved. As he often does, Artell made smart, timely substitutions and had obviously *had words|* about the lack of courage and composure in the first period. Burns, who for the first time in my limited experience looked a threat, scored a fine goal and would have notched a decisive second but for a remarkable save for Tranmere’s superannuated keeper. It was ‘all Town’ until, disastrously, the defence switched-off and allowed the visitors to *absolutely steal it* in the 96th minute. Horror show!

I had a brother and plenty mates there. They will have felt distraught at that cruel denouement but also at the capitulation in the first half. Town stopped doing it the Town Way. Good players stopped being brave enough to show and to pass to feet. It’s happened a zillion times, at a million clubs. But bloody tough to see that at your own.

Go on, skip.

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Time flies… and goes bit wild. Nat Sciver first played for Ingerland twelve years ago; alongside Charlotte Edwards. Slam-dunk (or reverse-sweep?) into the near-wild present and she’s Nat Sciver-Brunt, the new national captain, coached by her former-but-senior colleague. And that same Edwards has been boss and mentor for the last three mini-seasons… in India… in the New Fangled Women’s Premier League. Or something.

If that sounds in any way disrespectful then apologies. But it’s been a ride, all of it, from the new eras in cricket and sexual politics to the need for care in what’s being said. We’ve both crawled and hurtled into what the people who write mission statements call a ‘new space’. Much of it, improved. Overdue support and investment for the women’s game has materialised – although of course not entirely equitably – and, surprise surprise, levels of play and entertainment have and are ramping-up. With that, though, comes a change in levels of scrutiny and expectation.

Nat Sciver-Brunt returned from the 2025 WPL with her justifiably high reputation yet again reinforced. She nabbed, boomed, swept or pulled more than 500 runs – a record – taking her WPL total past 1,000, making her the sole bearer of that all-new, most-current playing honour. She is at no. 3 in the ICC world batting averages for ODIs and will skipper the England side across all three formats – a significantly big ask. NSB (we do or can call her that, yes?)  averages 46.47 in Tests, 45.91 in ODIs and 28.45 in IT20s, whilst also having 181 international wickets to her name, according to the ECB website. But so much for the factoids.

There are fascinations in play. A recent Ashes mauling, in which NSB contributed but could not resist the gathering dread. An alleged failure, unusually called-out, in a previous stand-in ‘opportunity’. And that whole thing about fresh brooms and Good New Feelings, with Edwards being by a million miles the outstanding candidate for the perch as Head Coach. (Oh – and a woman!)

The Ashes of course (and unfortunately but quite rightly) led to the demise of the previous coach (Lewis) and captain (Knight). Both of those protagonists were manifestly let down by the players but only Knight had any right to consider staying on, largely because few doubt that she was a good captain, strategically. ‘Trevor’ was immensely focused, smart and resilient. She *did actually lead* but was apparently neither inspirational nor frightening enough to the group to carry them through periods of pressure or drive standards of execution – particularly in the field. Ditto Lewis in his own, inevitably more distanced role.

But is it just me that has almost forgotten that Sciver-Brunt has been vice-captain under Knight for three years? That relative disappearance may say something positive about Knight’s leadership (and must surely be a benefit in terms of experience for NSB) but does it also suggest something around either unclear or unconfident relationships that Nat, despite being a genuine worldie astride the game, was not a nailed-on successor, *somehow?*

The fact that this feels at all vague condemns pretty decisively the regime(s) that allowed drift around succession planning. Both in respect of Nat Sciver-Brunt and the almost complete lack of other viable candidates. It’s a joke that at contemporary levels of resource, England did not appear to have anyone other than NSB remotely capable or experienced enough to step into the captaincy. People may have been thinking, but they weren’t doing.

I suppose we have to accept that there is stuff that we can’t know. It’s possible that relationships have been complex since the year dot. Or certainly since Sciver-Brunt was notably and unusually called-out for alleged inadequacies during the Commonwealth Games, in Birmingham, when Knight was absent.

At the time England should have beaten an Indian side with the proverbial ‘something to spare’. They didn’t and NSB’s captaincy and/or lack of leadership was criticised in such a way as to make some of us suspect that she was either disliked(?!?) or being punished for either arrogance or feebleness. It was an odd moment: the kind that makes you speculate – possibly wildly.

Anyway, she’s here now! In what could be a good moment. Outstanding new coach – the obvious candidate. Outstanding player at the helm on the park: the obvious candidate. Between them it feels entirely possible that they can and will help to drive against the key issues, now widely acknowledged to have been holding England back. Namely lack of athleticism and frailties around that fabulous, fraught, dangerous and difficult universe we lump in under ‘mentality’. Too many players have been unable to really sprint/dive/move in the way that is now non-negotiably essential, because they are international athletes. Too many players have failed to execute – have actually seemed weak, if we are to risk sounding cruel – when the Crunch Moments come around.

These things happened over years, not months; perhaps particularly the events or errors relating more to the ‘top three inches’ than physical prowess. The women’s game (is that an acceptable phrase? Seriously?) is improving all the time because of professional strength and conditioning. But the Ashes did unfortunately expose some clear deficiencies in the England camp. This is the price of fame – of ‘being seen’. Inevitably these areas will be addressed as a matter of urgency, but because there is a difference between fitness and top-end fine motor skills this may be a richly interesting challenge for the incoming coach. She must develop better athletes for the longer term but can Edwards rub the players’ backs so supportively that things improve immediately?

Some of The Issues are around selection; the coach reading these contending humans and finding the ones who will repeatedly perform. Some of this is about available talent – having a pool of fine athletes from which you can pick and blend. I am reasonably confident that Charlotte Edwards is going to be good at covering all of this rich and demanding territory; from the technical to the unavoidably psychological. She is authoritative and massively experienced. She knows the game and she seems to know people. Importantly, she has delivered (and therefore?) players seem to respond to her – to have faith. Rather wonderfully, faith is important in sport.

I am less sure that Nat Sciver-Brunt, as Edwards’ captain, is as well-equipped for her own role. But this is a) complex b) guesswork because of her lack of opportunity and c) a reflection on the vacuum of knowledge resulting from my remarkable but ongoing absence from the coaching team.*

Let me firstly describe one possible scenario. It is an absurd likelihood that because of her utter and innate brilliance, NSB has been finding a lot of her cricket too easy. Even if she doesn’t register it in that way. (I’m talking largely about batting, here). Even internationals: even Moments of Import. Often she has simply been able to see ball, hit ball like some carefree seven-year-old. Often she hits where that seven-year-old would, too – clattered through the leg-side. Of course I understand that she practices this endlessly, this ‘scoring in her areas’; this ‘playing without fear’. So she mitigates against risk through practice. Of course. But there are risks, here. NSB simply succeeds so easily and so often because she is good. Because she is too good, for the opposition. Meaning that she is relatively un-tested… or, less absurdly, has more to give.

Now. I am wondering and even hoping that because the captaincy has settled upon her – incidentally, have we considered whether she wanted or not? I’m not at all sure she did – Sciver-Brunt may use it to power up her game. She may pour in all the juice that previously she didn’t need.

Could be another mad argument. But the new energy, the new responsibility, the New Regime may possibly fire her up. Particularly under this new gaffer, whom she knows and may kinda love. She may go Full Nat.

The mutual NSB/Edwards WPL experience could be pivotal, here. Three campaigns; high-intensity and high-profile action. Togetherness. Understanding. Respect. Let’s hope.

The 32-year-old Natalie Sciver-Brunt may possibly be skipper-by-accident more than by design or inclination. (Who knows what might have happened if CE hadn’t walked through the door?) But wow. Look at her cricket. And there must have been learning, for Sciver-Brunt, under Knight and Edwards, in those difference places; through those different voices. Might we now see the full expression of her faith, capacity and confidence? Go on, skip.

*I jest! I JEST!!

Short and straight.

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A brutal truth. It’s likely that many of us who jumped the Rorytrain last night aren’t Proper Golfers – and most won’t be Golf Experts. But the magic and the drama of the event and the tremendous watchability and charisma of the chief protagonists – some of them, in the case of the actual venue, almost surreally preened – made us cling to it. It was ‘and then some’. It was ‘oh my goodness’. It took even us frauds into palpable wonder and trauma, beyond any planned investment in time or support. We were, I suppose, captured.

I’d prefer to give McIlroy himself (himself) credit for this. As opposed to the oodles of baggage, or the scissored and colorific perfection that is Augusta. Yes even us part-timers had a strong sense of the storyline underpinning: the Heartbreaks and the Breakdowns and the cruel romance. But it was mainly the sport that made this Masters – the golf shots. The ridicu-wedge blasted high before finding the seventh: lols, even the perpetrator, SuperMac, was visibly gobsmacked! The screeching curler around the trees, on the 15th. The magnificent, nerveless iron to the 17th. The quietly accumulating brilliance of Rose.

Throw in the tortured but also fading wildness of DeChambeau and we may already have all we need for epic sport. But we also had Aberg again being coolly thrilling tee-to-green. We had other Significant Locals weirdly marginalised. Overpoweringly though, we had that stirring, even gut-churning absence of certainty around the fella ‘destined to be central’.

I’d been coaching cricket for eight hours – 12 til 8pm – before rapidly piling the kit into the boot and flicking on Five Live. Practically the first words I heard were describing, in rather shocked tones, how the ‘lead had changed hands’. EH?!? McIlroy had gone from being two ahead to one down, in the first two holes! There were swear-words. I wasn’t sure whether to drive more quickly or pull up in a lay-by and sob.

By the time I’d cranked up the Sky Sports live feed, Rory was not only back in front, but stretching his lead. The Madness had started early. Faldo was bleating about DeChambeau’s daft bullishness – ‘you can’t hit irons like that, it doesn’t work’, or similar – and McIlroy looked spookily at ease. (I’ve just read a loada stuff about a) his sports psychologist and b) his American opponent noting that the Northern Irishman said nothing to him, all round… which may be interesting, or not). Then that shot on the 7th happened. It ticked all the daft bullishness boxes, being preposterous and risky and irre-bloody-sponsible, but Rory made the fekker. Superhuman ain’t in it – or rather it is, because it was utterly beyond the realm of the human. Brutally smashed. Ridiculously finessed. A bloody outrage.

That kind of statement should be the end of something… but not here. Not with this bloke. There were impossibly jarring errors – notably that flunk into the beck at 13, planting a 7 (seven) on his scorecard – and the pressure-slippage between 11 and 14 which engineered a very temporary three-way tie on the leaderboard. (Macker/Rose/Aberg). Godlike ripostes on 15 and 17 ripped a hole in any Here We Go Again theories before the universe crumpled back into them on the 18th green, as the Chosen (or Persecuted, or Unfortunate) One missed a shortish putt. Rose’s 10 (ten!) birdies on the day had won him a shot at glory. Fair enough. I nearly went to bed.

The crowds: where do we start, as a soft-leftie Brit, with the crowds at Augusta National?

We know who most of them vote for. We know 12% of the blokes will shout ‘get in the ho-o-ole!’ when the ball is tracking a mile westward. We suspect for a number this event may be a lifestyle choice more than a communion with a cherished ball-game. In short I confess they may not be my natural territory. But hey, mostly they were wonderful. Huge and engaged and powerfully supportive. Mostly in lurv with Rory, of course – possibly even when there were Americans in contention.

Somebody’s probably writing a thesis on why the roaring was so lung-bursting and so heartfelt, for the foreigner.* It can only be a combination of The Personality, The Story, and The Actual Golf. Whatever; let’s toast that crowd and that noise and zone back in to the mesmerising quality of some of the play. Rory McIlroy played a few dodgy shots in that final round. Of course he did. But his response and renewal, under the crushing weight of failure and disappointment and expectation, was incredible and heroic. Non-golf people will have been electrified and touched by his genius and his guts.

We somehow got to where we somehow knew we’d be. A play-off. Mercifully we had just the one hole to complete. Both players played it pret-ty immaculately, with solid drives and beautiful irons. McIlroy won it because his putt was short and straight and his opponents was longer. That, as Faldo might have said, is how golf works.

*Given where the U.S. is, maybe there’s a little hope in there somewhere?

Image from Belfast Live.

What the hell?

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Things are never simple and it doesn’t help to get mad, But we get mad. We care. We maybe know a bit about the game. We get mad.

England’s chronic and prolonged capitulation was tough to watch. However mighty and magnificent this Australia side might be. We got angry at the scale of the defeat; how it kept on coming like some plague of horrors. Our language came over all disproportionate. Our body language fell back into a cruel, familiar, performative cringe. In private moments we may have burst out into the unsayable.

Best start by re-iterating some contraflows to that spirited, justified fan-burst. Either Goodly Things or Things We Really Should Remember.

This group – have no doubt – have been trying like hell. Both to compete and then to get better.

They will have been working physically hard and racking their brains, individually and collectively, to try to get to grips with errors, failures, opportunities missed.

The captain and the coach are people of integrity who care very much about the success and direction of their team.

The players on this tour are (actually) the best available for selection: right now there is probably nobody missing.

So how come we all recognise this (as the players will, privately) as a kind of sporting catastrophe? Just how come this utter mis-match? What the hell went on, with England?

There will be cultural and structural stuff, if we zoom right out. The pool of hardened, top-level players is smallish – smaller than the Aussies’. This is for many reasons, some of which are contentious. Australia does have a fabulous climate conducive to outdoor-living and bringing activity right into the centre of family life. This is a cultural advantage. It does not, however, explain away what’s happening at an elite level, where players have been a high performance environment for years. (It’s possible that it feeds into the debate about why our squad has come under heavy scrutiny – quite rightly – for its mediocre levels of athleticism, but we’ll get into that soonish).

Some argue that the structure of women’s cricket and the overwhelming concentration of activity within the shorter formats contributes to a lack of everything from stickability to durable batting. But plainly Aus have a near-identical framework. Others (mainly in my experience males) posture that girl’s pathways have denied young women the traditional ‘toughening-up experience’ of competing with and against young blokes. These ideas may be worthy of consideration but they do not feel immediately responsible for the failings -and I’m afraid we can call them that – of the senior England Women squad *on this tour*.

I’ve argued for years, possibly at some minor cost, that because the non-negotiables have stiffened – for example over conditioning/dynamism/fielding work – players simply have to execute to increasingly higher levels. That’s not been personal or vindictive or (god forbid) misogynist, it’s just come with the improving professional territory. Standards are waay higher: I’ve watched them from close quarters and that is wonderful. But clearly it means a) responsibilities and b) a profoundly competitive environment.

Competitive environments can and should be both thrilling and inspiring. They can and should be challenging but also powerfully and deeply supportive – how else can players risk reaching for glory and improvement? It’s the job of the coach to build such an environment. It’s a tough, complicated, wonderful job. You have to be a diplomat and a psychologist as well an expert on cricketing skills and tactics.

One of the most essential abilities for any coach at any level is to be able to recognise and blend personalities as well as cricketing skills, in order to find a team that works. This may not be your best eleven players but it’s a mix that functions and flourishes in a way that may not be measurable or predictable other than by your instinct and intuition as coach. Great coaches deal with people brilliantly. They know how to say stuff and when to say it, to whom. They mould and inspire or drive – sometimes with jokes, sometimes with the proverbial hair-dryer.

For me Jon Lewis has been unable to do this. The continuing failures to execute a variety of skills *under pressure* falls at his door, despite (obvs) being the immediate responsibility of his players. Shocking fielding is a failure of group mentality as well as individual skills. It’s tough on all parties but the coach – okaay, coaches – should be building confidence and competence and/or weeding-out those who don’t meet the required standards. All of that comes under coaching responsibilities in a competitive environment. There’s no place for Lewis or anyone else to hide from that.

It’s true that because England appear to have a relatively limited pool of genuinely international players so being ruthless around selection becomes difficult or impossible. But the aspiration still has to be there, towards brilliance: it has to be insisted upon. If there’s nobody better available INSIST that your players become excellent and confident, through repetition and skills work.

All of which brings us to the athleticism thing. Alex Hartley – whom I have been around, and like and respect – was fully entitled to call out or call for better athleticism and fitness. (Think she used the latter word, initially and do wonder if she was using it a little euphemistically, so as to avoid being personal around weight?) Wyatt-Hodge is an obviously outstanding fielder who coordinates and moves like an athlete. Who else? Ecclestone, Dunkley, arguably Sciver-Brunt, Capsey, Bell, Knight, Glenn, Bouchier, Filer. Do any of them move and flow and reach and throw like top athletes? How many of them can actually sprint?

We’re into dangerous territory but in this modern, fully-professional era your effective Best Eleven should overwhelmingly look like international athletes. Plainly, particularly in the field, England have a) been nowhere near and b) looked in striking contrast to their opposition, who yes, make errors too, but look at a different level of sharpness and flow. Lewis may not have time to address this entirely: he may not have had the option to bring in better athletes. But he had to drive, encourage or bundle towards manifest improvement.

Inseparable from England’s failures to execute skills in the field has been the issue around mentality. (I’ve been bangin onnabout this, too, for years. Apols to regulars). Lack of confidence is not the only aspect in play here. Lack of focus or concentration and sheer inability to ‘tough out’ moments of pressure or challenge have felt central to the WAshes whitewash but also to an extended period of what we might call willowy adventures. It’s felt *characteristic* of England Women… and this is not good.

Failures to execute skills can of course fall under multiple banners, from deficiencies in technique to the infamous ‘brain farts’ or fear-of-the-moment. Top players grasp the moment, pushing through, concentrating through high angst or pressure to get the thing done. England as a mob were shockingly weak – pejorative word, know that – at this, on this tour. Aus crushed them because they are obviously better – and better athletes.

The brutal truth is I can only think of one player who might reasonably feel she had a goodish tour. Lauren Bell. She too made errors in the field but her prime role of leading the bowling attack gets a significant tick. She executed with skill and consistency. Not true of Filer; not true of Kemp, who could not do that job when called-upon. Ecclestone inevitably bowled well and I again note her fabulous contribution as a team-mate but her fielding was bloody awful. Bouchier had an awful tour, too.

So to the future. Lewis was badly let-down by his players but he has to go. The drift backwards into fearful error and bewilderment has simply been too obvious for him to continue. Knight is almost certainly still our best skipper and one of few redoubtable souls but let the new coach decide if she stays in post or in the side. Many of us would be fine with the idea of a buncha kids coming in, if they had the vim and the focus but I doubt this will happen. Charlotte Edwards, being a) broadly excellent and b) a proud Inglishwoman may declare herself available to lead. I suspect she won’t make wholesale changes but she may have the clout and the quality to make the essential one: to restore some real and robust competitive energy.

Angry fans.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

There may be newbies encroaching so p’raps I’ll say a few words about where I’m coming from. I’m coming from England, out of Wales. I’m an England & Wales fan and I have no issue with sounding that way. So you may see me foaming or bawling on the Twitters or elsewhere, in a fashion most unbecoming of a serious writer. (Actually I think I am a serious writer but not a journalist, and not here). I have had accreditation with the ECB, as a freelance bloggist, for several years. I go to watch and support England Women when I can – more than I do the blokes.

So England Aus then. After four defeats it feels erm, significantly deflating. It’s made me angry as well as disappointed. It’s hard not to make it personal – to have outrageous pops at individuals – when you know full well these are people trying their hearts out. But we are I think entitled to be critical when performances are poor, or even unprofessional, or when the case that we have gotten closer to the level of the mighty Australians is proved more palpably to be cobblers than we hoped or imagined. We remain waaay behind.

In today’s game, yup, the fourth defeat of four, with England knowing they really had to turn up, we got more of the same. A kind of contagion of error or failure to execute. No issue with Kemp playing or opening the bowling. But her first ball is a foot down leg. No issue with Bell – who has been probably the closest to a success on this mission – coming in from t’other end. She bowls coupla beauties but two wides again. Then reverts to her Somehow Unconvincing Athlete-type, to crucify a relatively straightforward chance, at fine leg: the ball spirals a bit but hey that’s cricket.

(Rate Bell – ditto Kemp – but these fluffs speak to and weirdly encourage the wider malaise. I repeat: Bell has bowled well and maturely for the most part, on the tour. But there are still too many wides and maybe critically that sense of potential for drift, in terms of control or otherwise, for a top level bowler, wafts in a little too often. And this from our no 1 bowler. Filer of course has almost played her way out the side with her wildness).

I’ve tried (honest) to avoid soundbites on socials but we may need to fall back on the words mentality and execution again here. Aus typically have it and do it – do their jobs; are good athletes and mentally strong – whereas England repeatedly fall short. In a way it’s maybe that simple. The visitors have had competitive bursts then undermined by slackness, error or calamity. One of many frustrations is that this seems fixable, given a squad of good players and yet…

Zoom out and you have to have a strong, deep pyramid, to go hard at selection and change. Zoom back in and it’s up to the coach do identify where players’ heads are and thereby identify players. Whilst developing them.

Where are the players’ heads? There have been, it seems to me, a whole lot of WTF moments over the past month. Hence the building vitriol and disappointment. Even Knight has made questionable decisions (plural) which have cost England their most redoubtable wicket. Reverse sweeping King first ball after drinks in this first it20 may have been an unwise choice. To the counter-argument that we should go fearlessly for our shots I say ‘hang on, now’. You choose your moment and choose the ball and then go for your shot, wholeheartedly. Do most of your pre-meditated shot-making from a position of strength – i.e get to that position first. Being ‘clear’ is important but so is adaptability. Only if you are desperately running out of balls to hit do you need to bite on major risk. Or, if like Dunkley you are absolutely feeling the flow – irresistibly.

England needed to be brilliant earlier and they were closer to lousy, from the start. Deeply mediocre bowling discipline, or players diving over or past or through or under the ball in the outfield. Poor, unconvincing hands. Angry fans (like me, like you) would call it garbage. Some of it was.

Why were England so poor? They probably picked their best team. They knew the import. Almost nobody delivered, with the ball or in the field. Then Bouchier had another *incredible moment* with the bat to laser-in on the fielder in the deep, second ball. Wyatt-Hodge was rooted and prodded. Sciver-Brunt stayed with that thing of swishing hard across: but to Garth, with bugger all on the board and two-down? In your first couple of deliveries? With the ball (you know) arcing away from you? Where are the players’ heads? And what are they hearing? ‘Clear plans’ no doubt.

Nerves were obviously a protagonist yet again. That we can understand but it doesn’t mean we can tolerate it. Over time it’s the job of the coach to fix such a fabulous and welcoming and supportive environment around the group that confidence bubbles up all over. And equally (but at the polar opposite of a vast, multi-faceted job) that same coach probably has to weed out those who lack the required mentality. And I do mean required. This cricket thing is both a wonderful, instinctive business based around flow and a brutal, gladiatorial arena where folks get culled. You want comfort of a sort but also the edge that drives elite performance.

Dunkley is a dynamic outlier in all this. For today at least. (To be honest, remain unconvinced about her as a consistently high-level performer but hope she goes on to prove me wrong).

Her innings today was authentically thrilling and spirited. The cack-handed slammer was one of possibly three England players who may claim to have been undone by balls scooting low. Her approach – full-on blistering intent – both worked and even threatened to turn a non-event into an event. It also raised the rather fascinating psycho-existential question as to whether T20 itself is wonderful or fraudulent sport. England being so bad and so ‘undeserving’ almost found themselves in the contest. Should that even be possible, given their risible effort? Or is that – Dunkley; the possibility for individual, counter-attacking glory – the essence of most of our wonderful-daft games?

England have great resources but maybe not quite the playing resources or depth that they want. Tough. They’re in financial dreamland compared to most. So coaching has to be effective and has to maximise. All coaches have to maximise – that is, improve their players. Look hard and see who has patently improved under Lewis.

The coach will almost certainly go, after this series. He can have no complaints. Heather Knight must also be in the cross-hairs but she is still England’s best captain and remains one of their few genuinely world-level players – just. To find a fresher, zingier, more deeply confident groove England may need to switch both coach and skipper. The next coach – Charlotte Edwards? – must sort out the heads of the players.

pic from The Cricket Paper.

Positives.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

Well there are certainly reasons to be cheerful. Bell. MacDonald-Gay. Filer. Fine batting, at times, from Bouchier and Sciver-Brunt. The skipper doing that holding-role-*plus* job that she so often does, in the second dig, falling a cruel few short of her Test ton; one she must have *really wanted*, given the general lack of opportunities. But let’s start with that gert big daft (for which read wunnerful, generous, lovable) lass they call Eccles.

This is the best spin bowler in the world. The deadliest; the most consistent; the most skilled. But she’s also offering out more love, more laffs and more genuine, heart-warming hugs than anybody else – also possibly in the world. Ecclestone is fabulous in every respect. Not the greatest athlete, so (you can see) she has worked hellish hard on her catching/movement/ground-fielding. Not the greatest bat, but strongish and aware that developing into or towards a ‘belligerent’ (hah! Not her!) ball-striking lower-order batter is probably what’s gonna maximise her contribution. Working hard. Ecclestone is that very rare thing, a truly sensational player – a world-level player – and an open, seemingly ego-less, committed, often hilarious team-mate. Thank god we’ve got her.

I’m not going to go back on Eccles’ figures. Though superb, they may not do justice to the sustained level of bowling she produced again, here. Too good for everybody – even too good for Kapp, it seemed, during one brief contest. This afternoon, after the quicks tore apart the South Africans, we can argue that the job was easy – or easier. She could pile in the close catchers. She could toss and loop the ball outrageously, by her standards. There was freedom. But the excellence still was just obvious: an almost endless succession of deliveries that the batters ‘just had to keep out’.

I was delighted to see Bell not only bowl well but get wickets with great balls, particularly in that second innings shut-out. None of us wants to see a massacre – well maybe sometimes – but it’s right that strong teams express their superiority. The coaches will have been demanding that. Filer and Bell haven’t always looked like they are or will be consistent enough to do it: or not produce compellingly enough to satisfy us *really interested observers*. Yes we have to couch our praise alongside qualifications (on account of the opposition, obvs) but there were times today where these two young bowlers, ‘first off the rank’, looked impressive – looked better.

Filer hit and hurt the mighty Kapp because she was simply too quick. Bell bowled more dream deliveries, arguably, and hit stumps or pads with plenty of them. Her traditional killer inswinger morphed just a little towards a ball that nipped-back more than swung, for impact. Plainly she has also worked hard to improve and hone her skills – quite right too. But the speed of change and development is encouraging and deserving of credit (to bowler and coaches). Bell is now absolutely ‘challenging both edges’. She has deliveries which swing away and/or leave the right-hander off the pitch. She has delicious, almost wildly slower balls which may cut off the deck, too. And she has always had a classic, often extravagant inswinger. What’s been missing – or needed work – is consistency. There is still work to do there but Bell looked a fine and even mature bowler much of today.

Filer is different. Idiosyncratic doesn’t cover it but that’s fine… as long as there is progress towards genuine, elite-level consistency. This is the England spearhead we’re talking about. That moment where Filer struck Kapp was notable. Sure there may have been some uneven bounce in there, but that extreme pace can be a real weapon: if Kapp can’t cope with it, neither can half of Australia’s finest. But groove it; steer it; control it.

There was something refreshing about MacDonald-Gay’s bowling. On debut. Bolting in there, fabulously stump-to-stump. It looked pure and repeatable, simple and kinda myopic in a really good way. Keeping the stumps in play – so often said, so rarely done. The youngster produced at least one laser-focused worldie to shift a leading bat and plenty of others to deny space and scoring opportunities. She maintained her accuracy admirably but not faultlessly: enough though, to make her a live contributor and contender.

Batting-wise, England’s second knock was something of a disappointment. A little complacency, perhaps? There was some good bowling, not just from Mlaba, but wickets also fell that were towards the Xmas gift category.

We know now that it’s reactionary to talk about playing across the line, because shorter formats and plans towards ‘scoring areas’ have taken the game beyond traditional or conservative thinking of that sort. On the one hand I accept this. On the other, players should surely be as streetwise as they are ‘positive?’ Meaning you don’t need to make a statement of intent every ball. Meaning offering a straight bat – which of course doesn’t always mean a defensive shot – can be a good option. And yes, maybe *particularly* if the game is drifting against you.

Choosing the moment to counter-attack may mean defending a good delivery. Fine. Several England players were as undone by their bat-swing as they were by the ball. We understand that Sciver-Brunt, say, can hit nearly everything that moves through mid-wicket. Even deliveries a foot outside off-stick. Brilliant. No issues. She owes us nothing and she’s also a world-level player. But to her and to the universe, just the polite suggestion that more of those balls could go through mid-off.

But let’s get back to the positives. England Women won a Test Match. By a mile. Away from home. It was entertaining and we saw batting of quality and endurance (it was bloody hot!) from Bouchier, Sciver-Brunt and Knight, alongside other contributions. With the ball, and in the heat, Bell and Filer stepped closer towards the top of the game – where England need them to be. MacDonald-Gay acquitted herself well. Ecclestone was tremendous and selfless and great company, as always. I hope she leads the celebrations.

Pic from CRICinfo.

The Learnings.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

It’s not only Heather Knight who would say ‘we’ve taken the learnings’, after the crushing defeat of South Africa gave England a series whitewash… but it’s a very Trevor-y thing to say. The England skip is still a top, top player but she’s also a hysterical, that is to say incredibly dull interview. She’s got more Trad England Captain in her bloodstream than Bobby Moore. She’s fabulous, don’t get me wrong, and absolutely not arch-conservative in the way she plays – not anymore – but Knighty dredges up every possible platitude from the Book of Sporting Blandoblurb, when someone sticks a microphone in front of her. It makes me laugh: I expect some of it she does for laughs.

Knight had every reason to be pleased… and expressed that pleasure in exactly the terms you would expect. This does not mean her assessment was either without value or off the mark. She was right to touch base with the ideas of ‘freedom’ and expansiveness, after an utterly dominant performance and a nine wicket win. And it was no surprise to hear the ell-word: learnings are all over the pathways.

England won the toss, chose to bowl and arguably for the second time on the bounce had won the game within about five minutes. South Africa, given that the series had already gone, had lost or rested Wolvaardt and Brits. Have no issue with this; this is how you (as a coach) extract value, by ‘changing things up’ and challenging players: offering them (again to use cricketing/coach-speak) ‘opportunities’. The Proteas camp knew they’d been outgunned, and probably would be again, but viewed that as a developmental opportunity. Fair enough.

What I might query was the insertion of Tunnicliffe as an opener, purely because she looked so completely out of her depth in the last game. *However*; player and coach(es) will have talked that through. She may have volunteered or entirely understood that opening might be a Big Ask… but also a means towards a kind of growth. It didn’t work out. Both she and Bosch were gone cheaply and the South Africans were pretty much dead from there. Shangase offered some resistance in a score of 124 all out but even this was scrappy, shapeless-looking stuff.

Lewis, the England gaffer must have talked about ‘executing well’ and ‘searching for a complete performance’, before this third game – must have. England had won two whilst being notably flawed, in the view of many outsiders. (Certainly in my view). Filer and Bell must have known that most of the home players simply couldn’t live with their pace and quality and therefore the aspiration for them and England was all about the pursuit of excellence. (See previous blog).

The win was always going to take care of itself. This is a weak or weakened South Africa. Therefore seek the highest levels of consistency and execution – let that be your ambition. State it. I bet Lewis did.

Filer’s opening spell – her bowling, in fact – was again mixed. It had just a little of the devastating-by-accident about it. Thrilling pace and bounce which the batters predictably barely knew what to do with. An early wicket but line too wayward. We know she’s bowling high-tarrif deliveries – quick; loopy slower-ones; bouncers and leg-cutters – but Filer, *to spearhead the England attack*, has to be near-as-dammit smack-on, ball after ball. She is not that, yet. There’s time… but will the scatter-gun re-focus?

I’m slightly fascinated to know if Bell had conversations with the coach(es) in which she or they said “ok. No inswingers. The purpose of this game today is to see if I can deliver, without going back to my killer-ball”. It really may have happened – again, I have no problem with that. Clearly Bell has been working hard on an away swinger and/or balls which nip away off the deck. Brilliant and quite right to expand her vocabulary like that. (Could be wobble balls and/or deliveries which are all about seam position being towards the slips. Even if there are no slips).

In game 3, the Shard produced more than a few genuine pearlers (possibly with pace both on and off) which left the right-handed batters – beat them. They would have beaten most. This is good. Under some pressure, she bowled new deliveries with a high degree of success: box ticked.

What Bell also needs to do is eliminate, as far as possible, the loose ones. High tarrif or no, she cannot bowl brilliantly-loopy slower balls down leg, or offer too much width outside off, when the inswinger doesn’t work. As a tandem, Filer and Bell are a work in progress. They were too good for this South African line-up but (with all due respect) bigger challenges lie ahead. *And in any case* this match – this event – was about process more than result(s).

So England went into bat knowing the game was won. Nice. But there was still meaningful work to be done, particularly, of course, for Bouchier and Dunkley. I might have looked them both in the eye and said “ok. We know you gals are working towards nailing down a place. Good. This is a competitive environment. Tonight, Kemp goes in ahead of you”. I really might. Because a) Kemp has something and b) neither Dunkley nor Bouchier has stamped their authority on a particular birth. Unlike Wyatt-Hodge, Sciver-Brunt and Knight, they haven’t been convincing or compelling or consistent enough. They know that; we know that. Sure as hell the coach(es) feel that.

Lewis and co stuck to the less radical plan and Bouchier opened with Wyatt-Hodge, before Dunkley followed. There was some vindication for all because the game was won at a stroll, with Wyatt-Hodge thrashing 50-plus not out and Bouchier striking the ball cleanly, largely, on the way to 35. (She fell to a literally stunning catch from Shangase, reaching hopefully high, at mid-off. The fielders fell about, telling us something about typical levels of expectation. Wyatt-Hodge was dropped on a handful of occasions: one error from Hlubi was alarmingly poor). Because, ultimately she was out, caught, off ordinary bowling, we can offer Bouchier no more than about a 7 out of 10 for her knock, but she did strike the ball well, generally.

Dunkley’ like Bell, like all of them no doubt, has been working hard. She appears to have gone past the seven-year-old clouter-to-leg thing that was her M.O. (I didn’t like it, neither to watch or in terms of results expected over time at the highest levels, but I absolutely accept that if she could have really made that early grip work, consistently, then we as coaches butt out). She didn’t – or not enough. Hence the learning, hence the development.

Dunkley, in her 24 not out, struck two deliveries straightish downtown that she could not have engineered previously. Not with her hands so far apart, in that swishing, bottom-hand style. She creamed these, showing the maker’s name proudly to all and sundry, following through straight. The fact that this feels like Proper Cricket isn’t the thing, here. It’s the fact that it feels like proper cricket * and Dunkley is in a better place to play* because of it. She can *almost certainly* drive more consistently and defend better because of that change in grip and presentation of the bat. It’s HUGE to make this change; I hope Dunkley’s called for it, rather than the coach. I hope it works for her.

Striking out for excellence.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

‘England win by thurty sux runs’. And so they did.

In fact that maybe flattered a very mediocre South Africa – although let’s offer some credit to those batters who took both Ecclestone and Sciver-Brunt for runs, late-on.

The home side had not a cat in hell’s chance of making the required 205 for victory; certainly not without Wolvaardt and Brits going MASSIVE, which they failed to do. The England total – big but not record-breaking – was yet again built around killer contributions from Wyatt-Hodge (78) and Sciver-Brunt (67 not out), with good work from the captain and a cute wee cameo from Jones, at the death.

None of the seven Proteas bowlers could keep their economy below nine runs an over. Before the turn-around, it felt like the series was gone. After about four overs of the South African reply, it was.

Sciver-Brunt bowled two fine overs, removing Brits for nought. (Felt a bit like the game was done, right there). Tunnicliffe came in at 3 and endured the most tortuous inning you’re ever likely to see. How Filer failed to bowl her will remain a world-level mystery: unfortunately for England she produced a ‘mixed spell’ yet again. There was Proper Pace – wonderful to see – but nearly everything was either a foot wide of leg-stick (by the time it got to the wickets), or just outside eighth stump. So not good enough for any of us – let alone the coach – to think ‘yup; she’s The One alright’.

It was Glenn who showed the way.

Sarah G bowls more deliveries pitching on middle and hitting middle than almost anyone else in world cricket. (Meaning a) she hardly spins it but b) she will bowl people swinging across the line). The middle overs leggie was excellent: she finished with four-fer-not-many. Ecclestone and Sciver-B, strangely, took something of a hammering as the game petered out, with a few genuine, nutty blows striking at least a minor psychological wotsit for South Africa as they flew into the smallish crowd. There was, however, no disguising the unbridgeable gap between the two sides.

If Kapp plays it might be different. If Khaka plays she makes a contribution. But they ain’t here… so this *really was* almost an unseemly massacre.

Concerns or questions? We have a few. Firstly that general one about the distance between these two sides. Nat Sciver admittedly can make everyone else look ordinary but her two consecutive 50s-plus, and the untroubled ease with which they were acquired, are heavily, almost brazenly *of note*. Wyatt-Hodge has looked similarly different-level against a weakish (let’s be blunt) South African attack.

Marx went wicketless tonight but was decent at East London: she offers something. De Klerk has looked reasonably consistent. Hlubi took two wickets this evening (much to everybody’s relief, after her multiple traumas) but she is miles away from the required level at the moment, largely because of that alarming void where her confidence needs to be. (Coach; get to work.)

I personally don’t rate Mlaba all that highly but I’m typically out of sync with the Universe of Punditry on that so we’ll move swiftly on. After a look at the scoreboard confirms she went 0 for 44, here. To recycle the obvious, a score of 204 was only remotely get-nearable if Brits and Wolvaardt went BIG… and they didn’t. The former got zilch, the latter her fascinatingly customary 20-something, against England. Again she fell rather tamely.

For the visitors it was a good night – no argument. But the irritants for us fans and watchers continue to irritate. Bouchier and Dunkley both failed again, with the bat, at a time when they will know that they need to show us something. Something consistent. Something compelling. Dunkley then dropped a dolly in the field and Bouchier might have done better with a ball clonked close to her at the boundary. (If I’m Sciver-Brunt, I’m a bit pissed-off).

How to resolve this? Well, maybe give them time. The left-field option of dropping them both – I could certainly ditch Dunkley, her movement and fielding ain’t great – and then elevating either one or both of Knight or Kemp to open or stand at 3, is a live one, for me.

Maybe that’s too wild, too soon, too whatever. But this England still needs a bump or a lift or a kick up the ‘arris to get it to where it needs to be: at a consistent level of yaknow, everything.

This is plainly The Thing and this uneven series does, perhaps a little perversely, offer the opportunity to strike out for that kind of excellence. Knight and co – the usual suspects – went some way towards that tonight: leaving Mr Lewis (the coach) both pleased and frustrated, I’m guessing?