HAVE BAT WILL TRAVEL

Alex Hales

I was reading an article the other day about the cricketer, Alex Hales. Outside cricket circles, his name is probably not on everybody’s tongue, though the general public might remember him as Ben Stokes’s partner-in-crime in that infamous punch-up outside a Bristol nightclub in September 2017. His cricket career, by contrast, has flown a little bit below the radar. He did play for England in 11 Test matches, but with only modest success. He made his name originally playing for Nottinghamshire, where he did achieve considerable success helping his county to win the championship in 2010.

Nottinghamshire celebrate winning the county championship in 2010. It’s still the trophy that all county cricketers cherish above all others.

Oh yes…I nearly forgot. He also played for Adelaide Strikers, Barbados Tridents, Desert Vipers, Durban Heat, Galle Marvels, Hobart Hurricanes, Islamabad United, Jamaica Tallawahs, Karachi Kings, Khulna Tigers, Los Angeles Knight Riders, Melbourne Renegades, Rangpur Riders, Sunrisers Hyderabad, Sydney Thunder, Trent Rockets, Trinbago Knight Riders, Team Abu Dhabi, Doronto Rajshahi, Surrey Jaguars, Ajman Bolts. Yes, that’s right. By my calculation, including Nottinghamshire and England, that makes 23 teams. Even he, when quizzed, could not put a reliable number on them. He claims not to be the most itinerant of contemporary cricketers, suggesting that he knows some who have played for 50 different teams and franchises. My jaw dropped when I read that. There must be times when they forget what country they’re in let alone which team they’re playing for.

All the fun of the Circus. Franchise cricket can resemble a whirligig in the playing calendar.

Now, let me draw a comparison with another era, even if “comparisons are odious”, as Dogberry said in Much Ado About Nothing (though in Shakespeare’s play the foolish night constable, noted for his malapropisms, actually said, “comparisons are oderous”). In 1968, the governing body of English cricket, the TCCB (Test and County Cricket Board) relaxed the rules governing the qualification of overseas players in the county championship to allow one to be signed by each county (except Yorkshire…it’s always except Yorkshire!) who would be eligible to play immediately. The list is a who’s who of the great and the good of the international game, all of whom remained loyal to their parent county, giving long years of service, to say nothing of many unforgettable performances for the membership to enjoy.

Clive Lloyd (Lancashire 1968-1986)

Garry Sobers (Nottinghamshire 1968-1974)

Mike Procter (Gloucestershire 1968-1981)

Barry Richards (Hampshire 1968-1978)

Vanburn Holder (Worcestershire 1968-1980)

Asif Iqbal (Kent 1968-1982)

Intikhab Alam (Surrey 1968-1981)

Keith Boyce (Essex 1968-1977)

Rohan Kanhai (Warwickshire 1968- 1977)

Majid Khan (Glamorgan 1968-1976)

Mike Procter and Garry Sobers, two of the greatest and most loyal of overseas players for their counties (Gloucestershire and Nottinghamshire respectively.)

Almost without exception, these players remained one-county employees and were regarded by their fans as loyal stalwarts of their team, deserving of every bit of affection as was bestowed on the local lad who worked down the mine or on the farm or in the factory and who had made good. They were Gloucestershire or Lancashire or Worcestershire or Kent or Sussex or whatever through and through.

Ah well. Autres temps, autres mœurs. Do I think that there’s anything dishonourable, disloyal, even mercenary, about Hales slinging his hook 23 times? Would any of those overseas stars who signed up for one of the counties in 1968 have peddled their wares in multiple clubs if they had had the opportunity and were paid the mouthwatering sums that they are today? No doubt some of them would have been sorely tempted. After all, they were in effect putting themselves up for sale anyway in the marketplace and following the highest bidder, mercenaries in effect.

The word ‘mercenary’ has tawdry undertones, as one who is primarily concerned with making money at the expense of ethics. ‘Twas not always thus. In fact, the word comes from the Latin merces, meaning ‘wages’ or ‘reward’. Isn’t that what we all demand for a day’s work? Not all mercenaries lost their moral compass. Othello is a Moor, but a general in the Venetian army. “I have done the state some service, and they know’t,” he tells his accusers. Robert Jordan, played by Gary Cooper in the film For Whom the Bell Tolls, finds meaning to life fighting in the Spanish Civil War. And what about The Magnificent Seven, itinerant gunslingers who agree to protect a village from rapacious gangsters? The French Foreign Legion is a legitimate cadre of mercenaries. Many are not French, but they fight for France with professional efficacy. The same could be said of the Gurkhas, attached to the British Army. I’m not sure I can criticise Hales for chasing the dollar or the rand or the rupee or the pound. He is a modern gun for hire, except that his gun is a Gunn and Moore. “Have bat, will travel,” as Boycott famously said of the rebels who signed up for Kerry Packer. Very few of my generation of former players begrudge the riches now available to current professionals. It was different in our day but good luck to the current generation. They deserve every penny.

Where my sadness lies when I look at the extraordinary number of clubs and franchises that Hales has represented is not what he has gained but what he has lost. Cricket is a team game, and the concept of togetherness is very important to those who belong to the group. Football, rugby, hockey, lacrosse, baseball, basketball, netball, you name it, are all sports that rely on teamwork as much as individual skill and as such, the collaboration and combined effort make up much of how a club, a unit, a squad functions. The sense of togetherness is common to all, but if anything, I would contend that group loyalty, esprit de corps, is even more predominant in cricket than in most other team sports.

Cricket is a long game played over one, two, three, four or five days. The schedule is relentless; there are few days off and precious little time for relaxation. The season lasts all summer and winter too if you are playing abroad. Thus, your team-mates, in whose company you live continuously, become your surrogate family; indeed, you probably sleep with your room-mate more nights than you do with your wife. You share with them the highs and the lows, the triumphs and the disasters, of a long and arduous campaign, forging a comradeship that any band of brothers in a war zone would recognise and identify with.

This kind of camaraderie can only be built over time. How on earth was Hales able to forge a close bond with his team-mates when he probably struggled to remember all their names? He must have felt as if he was part of a spinning circus, barely able to draw breath and take in all his surroundings before he was off again to a new team, a new competition, a new country, a new continent, a new time zone. He must have had precious little time to make friends with anybody in his team. Or forge a bond with any of the coaches. Or exchange banter with the dressing room attendant. Or offer a cheerful hello to the tea lady. Or wangle another helping of food from the chef. Ot bid good day to the pavilion doorman. Or exchange pleasantries with a few familiar faces among the membership. Or become a hero for any of the autograph hunters among the fans. (Do they still hunt autographs, or do they demand selfies these days?) Hales himself admits “there’s nothing that beats the camaraderie that you get with a bunch of guys you play with all the year round – that’s something you’ll never replicate in the franchise world.”

He sounds even wistful.