Really good Joy of Six in the Guardian today - the writing is excellent in it.
[S5aNU5xEEIY[/media]eature=youtu.be&t=24s"]5) Kevin Pietersen’s switch-hit (June 2008)]([media=youtube)[/b]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S5aNU5xEEIY
Rumours that this week’s Joy of Six was convened solely for its writers to spend the week humming songs from Hammerstein and Kern are false, but if Pietersen rhymed with Bill, well, that would’ve been handy. It doesn’t, though; typical arrogance.
Between February and July 2008 England’s cricketers played two series against New Zealand, neither of which especially exercised anyone. Still, there were some memorable moments: Andrew Strauss’s career-saver[/url],[url=“http://www.espncricinfo.com/nzveng/engine/current/match/300444.html”]Tim Southee’s career-starter[/url], [url=“https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZPF4H9oE1ic”]Ryan Sidebottom’s hat-trick[/url] and[url=“https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-d1xuDejdn4”] various efforts from Pietersen[/url], all upstaged by [url=“http://youtu.be/S5aNU5xEEIY?t=24s”]the inaugural switch-hit.
The moment came during the first ODI of the second series, when, with Pietersen on 68, Scott Styris ran in to bowl. In the time it took him to hurl a sphere of cork-covered leather 22 yards, Pietersen pirouetted en pointe, switched from right- to left-handed stance and slurped a glass of Amarula, before humiliating the ball over the boundary for six. Shot!
By way of context, humans have redeemed the species via the game of cricket for several hundreds of years – yet it took this particular incarnation to conceive, attempt, and execute the switch-hit. Play every ball on its merits, says the truism. Play every ball on my merits, said Pietersen.
Given cricket’s duelling, repetitive nature, its potential outcomes are relatively few and apparently finite, leaving little that’s new[/url] and [url=“http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QtkFmufS6k8”]even less that’s positively shocking[/url]. And yet Pietersen found both, subsequent debate regarding [url=“http://www.telegraph.co.uk/sport/cricket/international/england/9188352/Kevin-Pietersens-switch-hitting-routine-officially-curbed-but-far-from-outlawed-as-proved-during-stunning-century.html”]the shot’s legality[/url] polishing its status; not just reimagining the technical manual but [url=“https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o2t3ja3sZ5M”]bothering the rulebook too, iconoclastic as well as creative.
Though every showboat boasts a subversive aspect thanks to the disdain necessarily at its core, the switch-hit is special. Even the action is gloriously dismissive, a swatting swish of superiority. Begone! It might not be delivered as powerfully as a cover-drive, but you could say the same of how punch relates to slap: a punch hurts more, but only slap can take the prefix bitch. Roughly, the difference is that between pain and suffering.
Still, purists might challenge its showboating status on the basis that it’s just a shot to score runs; Adrian Lewis’ blind 180[/url], say, or [url=“http://youtu.be/Wweh3ROiqWI?t=1m18s”]Leeds teasing Southampton[/url], both rank higher on the dog-tongue-testes scale. But the problem with the gratuitous, if you’ll pardon the heresy, is that there’s no pressure to succeed – [url=“https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x4fsLeCjB4s”]if it fails you look silly[/url], but that’s it. When, on the other hand, you incorporate into general play what is by nature [url=“https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PTxbRVhc7Zk”]a showboat[/url], failure also encompasses a competitive penalty, [url=“http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AjhKq-Tovfs”]in cricket a more significant one than in any other sport.
And once there’s a genuine purpose, the criticism of not paying opponent or game requisite respect vanishes – but we ought to be above such delicate sensibility in any event. It is, after all, only sport, and in every other art-form – literature[/url], [url=“http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beer_Street_and_Gin_Lane”]painting[/url], [url=“http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0TZ_9-rbslo”]music[/url], [url=“http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vVHhg67RVd4”]films[/url], [url=“http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Volpone”]plays[/url],[url=“http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Beano”]comics[/url], [url=“http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PxsGyljd6B0”]comedy – a goodly chunk of the best and most important are underpinned by the total absence of deference.
Nonetheless, Pietersen has been constantly criticised for his style, an attitude peculiarly British in its carping churl. It oughtn’t to be surprising; our language does, after all, consider “too clever by half” an insult, “don’t get clever” a warning and “audacious and bold” a primary school telling-off. People don’t cope well when other people are unashamedly better than them at stuff, but really, there’s no need; we are, genuinely in this circumstance, all in it together, all of us in the world who aren’t KP. It’s fine.
To the spectator, a showboat should be inspirational, not threatening. David Foster Wallace once described high-level sport as “human beings’ reconciliation with the fact of having a body”, and channelling hopes and dreams through the brilliance and beauty of others should help reconcile us to all that we can’t do ourselves.
The problem arises when it’s done by someone we don’t like, which turns flair to flash and a show into showing-off. But that’s what professional sport is, what anything competitive is, and what anything professional is: a show. No one goes to the opera and grumbles about a singer trying to reach the high notes, or is aggravated by a surgeon who performs a tricky operation. Yes, it’s principally for their pleasure, but why shouldn’t it be? How couldn’t it be?
It’s no coincidence that the sportsman most similar to Pietersen was also underappreciated while he played in the purportedly green and pleasant land. Cristiano Ronaldo is a competitor of similar confidence and conviction, of all the things, also committed to intense practice and innovation, desperate to be the outstanding individual in a team sport. Oh, the effrontery! That being good, it’s just not on!
So instead, people focus on their demeanour. It’s understandable in a sense: the only thing more annoying than someone shouting the talk is someone sprinting the walk switch-hitting or stepping-over as they go, before refusing to denigrate their genius with phony humility and team ethic platitudes. And yet, in every school changing room there’s a kid with a very adult attribute, displayed at every opportunity, in exchange for due adulation. We’ve changed.
Which is to say that the point is this: showboats and showmen remind us why we love sport, and rekindle the childish wonder legitimised by sport that we wish was legitimised by life. Yeah, everyone loved watching Rahul Dravid bat because he was classical and beautiful and a mensch, but he didn’t make hearts jump, nor force involuntary exclamation of the desire to perform a biologically impossible act.
Consider then, that, at worst, Pietersen is a bit of an idiot. Then, consider all the other sportsfolk and teams who’ve brought you pleasure: are you sure they’re not guilty of anything a lot more reprehensible? Lastly, consider yourself. Are you sure you’re not a bit of an idiot? Can you say for certain that you’re a superior incarnation of humanity? Or put another way, there’s no one on the planet not an ordinary guy, but only a few who make us thrill. Enjoy them. Daniel Harris
6) And if you are going to showboat …