“You can’t only take, take, take. You’ve got to give, too.” – Robin Peterson on the conspicuous absence of top players from domestic cricket.
TELFORD VICE in Cape Town
NEWLANDS was naked in the wan sunshine that curdled in the cutting morning breeze.
The boundary was a humble rope, not an advertising-spangled, sponge-filled vinyl sausage. The fence beyond was a steel skeleton with nary a signboard in sight.
The stepped space where seats cradle the bums of Western Province Cricket Club members was all grim concrete, no plastic. And no members.
Emptiness was all around.
The metal monsters constructing the most controversial building in all of sport, apparently, on what used to be the B field sent regular shudders of dread rippling through the pressbox.
The cricket going on in the middle, in a match between the Cobras and the Warriors, took the edge off the bleak scene. Three Test players were in the field, two T20 internationals were at the crease, and an ODI umpire stood at one end.
Yet just about the only spectators were the bused-in schoolboys under The Oaks. Most of them played their own games. None, it seemed, were watching the match.
Welcome to a day in the life of domestic cricket.
It has, of course, long been thus. But the system seems more broken than ever in the wake of South Africa’s shambolic performance in their men’s Test series in India.
How could it be fixed? It’s a simple question with a myriad answers, most of them complex.
But without the buy-in of all levels and sectors of an unfortunately fractured game, these efforts will fail. What are cricket’s chances of unifying before irreparable damage is done? Or is it already too late?
Robin Peterson is never far from his smile, which stretched across his face as he said: “It’s not as bad as people think it is. The English guys who played 10 years ago will say the same thing, which is also the same thing Australians and West Indians said 10 years before that.” Peterson’s appointment as the Warriors’ interim coach is a rare positive in a time of tumult for the game in this country.
“I’d like to help young players in our system question why they do things and open their minds. I’m from Port Elizabeth. It’s my way of adding value and repaying [the Warriors] for giving me a start in cricket.”
More of that approach, particularly among still active players, could go a long way to helping the game pull out of its tailspin.
To illustrate how things could be, Peterson remembered that eight of Australia’s XI who featured in his last ODI, at the SCG in November 2014, played in the round of Sheffield Shield matches that started two days later.
“Two days after an ODI series of five games, of high intensity cricket, that was crammed into 10 days …
“I know there’s more demands on our guys now, but they’ve still got to play. They mustn’t forget that they got there through this system. It’s given them the opportunity to play for South Africa.
“You can’t only take, take, take. You’ve got to give, too. I’d like to see them do that better than they have.”
Faf du Plessis’ sincerity did him no favours when, on his return from India, he said: “I don’t know a lot about domestic structures because I don’t spend a lot of time in domestic structures.”
The Titans have played 71 first-class matches since Du Plessis made his Test debut in November 2012. He has featured in only two of them. An analysis of his international workload shows he could have played 20 more first-class games for his franchise.
It wouldn’t have been easy, but it could have been done. Now, as South African cricket eyes an uncertain future, it must be done.
First published by the Sunday Times.
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