My writing about English cricket is
usually about the past. That about the present mostly concerns New Zealand,
reasonably enough as that’s where I have lived these past 21 years. My visits
to games in England are confined to a few days every two or three years, though
the wonders of modern communication enable me to keep up (as I write this I am
watching Tom Kohler-Cadmore of Yorkshire put the Durham attack to the sword). But
when it comes to discussing the great issues of the day, I don’t generally like
to intrude in private grief. But from time to time…
I can’t
get steamed up about “The Hundred” in that way that many supporters of traditional
cricket have (“traditional cricket” now including T20, apparently). Of course,
it is a marketing rather than a cricketing initiative and has been sprung on
the public in a manner that is patronising and comically inept. But does the absence
of 20 deliveries an innings make that much of a difference?
After
all, one-day cricket in England started with 65 overs, quickly cut to 60; then
a 55-over version came along, and 50 overs became the default for ODIs.
Meanwhile it was 40 overs on Sundays, except in those years when it was 45. So
let’s not be too precious about counting the overs.
The
central issue is unchanged: the big slice of high summer that the new competition
encloses, driving us peasants off our land. Michael Atherton has been pushing
the idea of playing the County Championship in parallel with the new competition
so that young players get the chance to develop in the best conditions. That’s
admirable, but with so many players taken by the Hundred (or whatever it ends
up being), the County Championship in this period would be not much more then a
second XI competition.
Here’s
a proposal that would reserve a place at the table for a reasonable standard of
first-class cricket at the height of summer, albeit in the servants’ quarters.
Parallel
to the new competition, I would create first-class and 50-over competitions between
ten teams. Eight of these would be a partnership of a county that is the base
of a new franchise with one that is not. There are various ways in which this
could be cut, for example:
· Durham
and Yorkshire
· Derbyshire
and Lancashire
· Leicestershire
and Nottinghamshire
· Worcestershire
and Warwickshire
· Glamorgan
and Gloucestershire
· Sussex
and Hampshire
· Kent
and Surrey
· Essex
and Middlesex.
Obviously,
the point of this is to create teams that are of true first-class standard,
good enough to develop international players of the future and to attract
spectators.
So what about the two counties—in this example Somerset and
Northamptonshire—that would be left without a franchised partner? One answer would
be to invite the new test countries, Ireland and Afghanistan, to send seven or
eight players to Taunton and Northampton respectively. I’m sure that we in New
Zealand would jump at the chance to send a cohort of our good emerging players to
spend five or six weeks playing a decent standard of cricket. Much better value
than an A team playing against a virtual county second XIs. Even an established
international such as Henry Nicholls might be keen on having a chance to play
in the southern winter.
A
second aim is to keep cricket going in the shires in July and August, so the
non-franchised county would host all the team’s home games. This may be hard on
members of the franchise counties but they would get home membership privileges
as an incentive to make the (mostly) easy journey to watch their amalgamated
team.
There
would be two conferences of five teams. Teams in conference A would not play
each other, but would play all the teams in conference B. Otherwise, in a
five-team group there would always be a team without an opponent. Clearly, some
teams would have two home games and some three. This could alternate from year
to year.
My plan
has a 50-over game on Saturday followed by a four-day game between the same
teams on the same ground starting on Sunday. I know that the thought of
switching formats overnight might cause the smelling salts to be called for in
some quarters, but we are trying to save county cricket here, so sacrifices
must be made.
I
have included 50-over games as it seems likely that it is this format that will
make room for the Hundred, perhaps becoming closer to a straight knockout. As
long as there is a 50-over World Cup players must be given the chance to play
that format. Besides, who knows? If matches are played at weekends in July and
August there may still be an audience for it after all. If there were five
rounds of first-class cricket in midsummer, a reduction of the Championship to
12, or even ten games could be borne with equanimity by most supporters, if
August replaces April.
The
winners of each conference would play in the final. A neutral venue would risk
an empty ground, so one of the finalists would be at home (this works well
enough in this part of the world). There are any number of ways of deciding
this. A side that has staged two home games might host one that has had three.
Or what about the better rated pitch (measured against criteria that favour
balance between bat and ball) having home advantage? A team that reaches both
finals might claim home advantage to maximise the crowd and minimise the
travel. Or they could just toss a coin.
Given
that the name of every vertebrate animal known to science has already been
appropriated for sports team titles, what shall we call them? I’d like each to
be named after a player associated with both teams: Norman Gifford v Grahame
Clinton. No? So what about water-based names? Trent and Mersey…Tyne, Tees and
Humber…Thames and Medway…
What
are the risks? Obviously, we don’t want the idea of county amalgamation to take
hold, but the reputational damage of counties turning out sub-standard teams is
more dangerous.
All a
pipedream I know, but I suspect that many readers would turn up to these games
rather than either the Hundred or a sub-standard Championship.
