Heads up CSA: here comes Lawson Naidoo, ready or not

“I look at CSA in a very similar way that I would at state institutions that have been decimated in recent times.” – Lawson Naidoo, CSA board chair

Telford Vice | Cape Town

LAWSON Naidoo fell truly, madly, deeply in love on the morning of Thursday, February 5, 1970. He was weeks away from his seventh birthday. Fifty-one years on, his passion is undimmed. And thereby hangs a cricket story.

“I was at the 1969/70 Test match against Australia at Kingsmead, when Barry Richards made 94 not out before lunch,” Naidoo told Cricbuzz. “My love of the game goes back to then, and I’ve been a keen follower for all those years.” He relocated to Cape Town in 1994, and says he has missed only one of the 33 Newlands Tests South Africa have played since: against Pakistan in February 2013, when he was on holiday in India.

Naidoo has written on the game for various publications, including the now defunct Wisden Cricketer, and captains the Spin Doctors XI of Cape Town’s Friendly Cricketers’ Association, an honour he has held since the club’s founding in 1998. He self-identifies as “nowadays a lower middle order journeyman”, and describes himself as “a keen observer of the game from a playing perspective as well as its administration and governance”.

About that last bit, as of Tuesday Naidoo has been the chairperson of CSA’s board. And the first independent director in a role that, previously, was reserved for whoever was also the president — who was, and still is, drawn from the ranks of the 14 provincial affiliates and associates. The glaring lack of oversight in that structure led cricket down many a dark governance path.

So Naidoo’s election, enabled by a new memorandum of incorporation (MOI), which stipulates a majority independent board chaired by an independent, is the most heartening sign yet that CSA is sincere about cleaning up its act. Because Naidoo is more than a cricket romantic. He’s a public intellectual who, armed with a masters in law from Cambridge, among many other qualifications, has built a strong record over the past 35 years for not hesitating to tell right from wrong. These days he does so as the executive secretary of the Council for the Advancement of the South African Constitution (CAFAC), a progressive organisation, and is also a founding partner of the Paternoster Group, a political risk consultancy.

A focus of Naidoo’s work has been the interrogation of an establishment he helped create. He was among the political activists who went into exile during apartheid, and from 1987 to 1992 he worked for the African National Congress’ (ANC) mission in London. From 1994 to 1999, during Nelson Mandela’s presidential term, he served as a special advisor to Frene Ginwala, the speaker of South Africa’s first duly elected parliament.

The ANC was an exemplary liberation movement, and for 15 years after the country embarked on the road towards democracy in 1994 — when South Africans of all races, not only whites, voted in a general election for the first time — the party tried to meet the challenges of fairly governing an entire nation. But, with major systems and infrastructure designed to cater mainly for the tiny white minority, that proved all but impossible.   

So hopes for “a better life for all” — an ANC slogan — were dashed, not least because of the intractable conflict between the expectations of a newly empowered electorate and a disproportionately white affluent class alarmed by the prospect of the revocation of its unearned privilege. But, in a country where opposition parties range from relics of apartheid to buffoons in berets, the ANC remains the only viable option at the polls even though all classes are dissatisfied with its performance.

The inevitable erosion in the integrity of South Africa’s experiment in democracy, and in the belief that it would succeed, made the ANC ripe for infection by abuse. In May 2009 Jacob Zuma was inaugurated, triggering almost nine years of rampant maladministration during which it was made increasingly clear that the presidency was little more than a front for a slew of corrupt figures. In October last year, Cyril Ramaphosa — also of the ANC — who became president after his predecessor was forced to resign under ever darker clouds, said more than USD34-billion had been stolen from state coffers during the Zuma years.

All of which is relevant, even in a cricket story. Naidoo has written widely on state corruption in South Africa and given evidence as an expert to an ongoing judicial commission launched in order to, government said, “investigate allegations of state capture, corruption, fraud and other allegations in the public sector including organs of state”. If you’ve kept up with developments at CSA since around 2009, that will sound familiar.

“I look at CSA in a very similar way that I would at state institutions that have been decimated in recent times,” Naidoo said. “I think the challenge of fixing CSA is not different from the governance challenges that the country faces in other respects. I see a direct correlation between what I do in my day job and what my role will be at CSA.”

To that end, Naidoo has put his trust in CSA’s new MOI: “Given my background at CAFAC, constitutions are very important. I see the MOI as the constitution for CSA, and we’ve got to live by that. Not just the platitudes about it but demonstrate it in how we operate — with openness and transparency.

“I think there’s been far too much secrecy about what happens, which is unnecessary in my view. We need much more open and transparent, and open to criticism. Because we will make mistakes. We mustn’t try and hide them from the public. If we make mistakes we must take responsibility and account for them. The biggest challenge is to restore public confidence in the administration of the game, and that includes players, fans, media, sponsors, and — very importantly — the ICC.”

The task of setting matters straight with the latter has fallen to Naidoo: on Thursday CSA said the board had decided he would represent the organisation at ICC meetings. In the past that was done by CSA’s president, a provincial leader and thus part of the old problems.

Naidoo will go into those meetings backed by the fact that South Africa is a full member of the ICC, and thus has to be taken seriously. The sponsors who have deserted CSA in recent years owe him no such respect. What might he say to them?

“You’ve been asking for an independent board, you’ve been asking for CSA to clean up its governance structures. I believe this MOI does that. We now have a properly constituted board in place with credible people on that board. You can now trust us with your money again.”

Unlike some of the suits who came before him, and spent thousands in company money on alcohol, Naidoo understands that “without money we’re not able to do what we need to do, which is to grow the game and broaden its appeal among all South Africans”.

And to keep the eyes of those who have made cricket their profession firmly on the ball: “One of our roles is to get cricket off the front pages and onto the back pages. If we fix the administration that will hopefully lead to success on the field, because the players have been distracted by what’s going on. Rightly so, because their livelihoods have been at stake. And not just at international level but at provincial and franchise level.

“We need to take away that concern for them and allow them to do what they’re best at, which is playing the game. Hopefully, by fixing this, we’ll allow the Proteas to resume their position as one of the top cricket teams in the world.”

If that makes Naidoo sound as if this isn’t his first cricket administration rodeo, maybe that’s because it isn’t. In 1991, when apartheid was still the law of the land but the wave of change was rising, Steve Tshwete — an ANC stalwart who would become sports minister — and Ali Bacher, by then the managing director of CSA’s forerunner, went to London to lobby the high commissions of West Indian countries to support South Africa’s readmission to the international game after 21 years of isolation. Naidoo arranged those meetings and accompanied Tshwete and Bacher to them.

That someone so deeply involved in the struggle should credit a man as polarising as Barry Richards with helping to spark his love for the game will make Naidoo difficult to put into one of the boxes South Africans reserve for each other — which will be a key advantage in an often cynically competitive arena where identity can matter more than anything else.  

Richards, playing only his second Test, went on to make 140 in that innings, and Graeme Pollock 274: South Africa’s highest Test score for more than 29 years, and a display of batting so arresting it is still spoken of in close to religious tones. The South Africans won the match, the second of the series, by an innings and claimed the other three, two by more than 300 runs. And then they disappeared from view as isolation took hold.      

One version of this narrative holds that team up as heroes who were unfairly denied their glory; that they were the best team in world cricket. Closer to the truth is that the Australians were reluctant tourists who arrived exhausted after a long tour of India, and wouldn’t have come at all had England’s 1968/69 visit not been cancelled by the South African government because the English had had the audacity to include Basil D’Oliveira in their squad. How dare they! Everyone knew South Africa didn’t sully themselves playing against opposition that wasn’t entirely white.

Others see that South Africa team as the apex of white supremacy, oblivious to the cruel joke that, had they been born any other race, their talent would have gone as undiscovered as that that lay dormant in their gardeners and maids.

Naidoo will know all that, and a lot more. For instance, the stands at Kingsmead on Thursday, February 5, 1970 would have been racially segregated. He was considered, by law, born not good enough to watch cricket among whites. And yet he still fell in love. A “lower middle order journeyman”? Yeah, right.

First published by Cricbuzz.

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Conway goes a long way to find a place he can trust

“He looked at me with those steely eyes of his and he said, ‘I want to play cricket for South Africa and I want to get good marks.’” – Devon Conway’s high school coach, Adrian Norris.

Telford Vice | Cape Town

A superbly fit, overtly competitive, ultimately ordinary off-spinner leaves Pietermaritzburg for Nottingham and becomes Kevin Pietersen. An unflashy allrounder goes from Johannesburg to Wellington and turns into Grant Elliott. They are among a slew of examples where those came from: South Africa. Devon Conway added his name to the list this week.

Conway’s 200 at Lord’s made him the 111th man to reach a century on Test debut and the 12th from South Africa. Sort of. Andrew Hudson, Jacques Rudolph, Alviro Petersen, Faf du Plessis, Stiaan van Zyl and Stephen Cook know the feeling of making a hundred in their first Test. So do Kepler Wessels and Keaton Jennings.

But Wessels’ 162 at the Gabba in November 1982 was scored from under a not exactly baggy green helmet, while Jennings made his 112 at Wankhede in December 2016 wearing three lions rampant. As did Andrew Strauss for his 112 against New Zealand in May 2004 at Lord’s, Matt Prior for his unbeaten 126 against West Indies in May 2007 also at Lord’s, and Jonathan Trott for his 119 against Australia at the Oval in August 2009.

Conway’s headgear is black and emblazoned with a silver fern. At his high school, St John’s College in Johannesburg, it didn’t matter much on Wednesday that he does not don the protea badge. “We watched bits and pieces [on television] between classes,” Adrian Norris, the master in charge of cricket and a major influence on the player Conway has become, told Cricbuzz on Thursday. “He got to 30, and then we had load-shedding for three hours. So we kept track online from 30 until he was about 105, when we were able to watch again.”

Norris’ words help explain why Conway moved from Joburg to Wellington in August 2017. South Africa’s poorly maintained infrastructure means there isn’t enough electricity to keep all of the country’s lights on all of the time. So, sporadically since January 2008 and sometimes for days and weeks on end, scheduled rolling blackouts share the darkness. Sometimes your lights are off while your friends’ kilometres away are on. Sometimes it’s the other way around. You know when you will be able to cook dinner by consulting an app — several are readily available — on your smartphone.

Load-shedding has become emblematic of a South Africa that is failing to meet the expectations of a nation that, by defeating apartheid at the ballot box in April 1994, thought its worst days were behind it. Twenty-seven years on, we know our trust was misplaced.

“Devon was always the type of person who wanted trust,” Norris said. “We made sure we looked after him — we would get him something to eat, because sometimes he would skip the boarding school breakfast — and then he produced the goods and scored hundreds. He’s a very loyal person. It’s difficult to get into his trust, but once you’re in there you will be for life. He’ll do anything for you.”

Maybe Conway couldn’t trust South Africa enough to want to continue to make a life and a career there. Aged 26, he sold his home, his car and much of the rest of his material possessions and, with his partner, headed for New Zealand.

He had had a solid junior career — he made two half-centuries for Gauteng’s under-13 side, a hundred for the under-15s, and two centuries and a double ton for the under-19s. He scored 13 centuries in provincial first-class cricket. But at the higher franchise level, where he played only 21 matches in more than six years, Conway never reached three figures in 36 innings. So how big a role did cricket play in his decision?

It’s a worn trope that South Africa chases away some of its best and brightest in the cause of trying to make its national teams look more like the nation they represent. Did Conway feel hard done by because he is white? “Absolutely not,” Norris said. “In all our conversations we’ve had, he has never brought that up. He and his partner just wanted a different life experience, and that’s what they’ve got.”

Norris spoke of an apartment near the Wanderers, paid for by Gauteng cricket, that housed some of the province’s most promising players. Conway was among them. “In that flat lived five or six black African guys who were his mates. At times he would get picked ahead of them, and at times one of them would get picked ahead of him. I think he would have said, ‘These are my mates. How can I say I’m not getting picked because of the colour of my skin? They’re getting picked because they’re good enough.’”

A less often acknowledged aspect of the race dynamic is that, were it not for South Africa’s efforts to equalise opportunities across the game, world cricket would likely never have heard of Makhaya Ntini, Hashim Amla, Vernon Philander or Kagiso Rabada. Their talent and skill was undoubted and they worked hard for the success they earned. But talent, skill and hard work aren’t enough in a society more cruelly skewed in favour of the affluent than any other. The affluent are disproportionately white.

All but one of the South Africans who have won Test caps playing for other countries have come from relatively affluent whiteness. They, or their families, have had access to means to change their realities. Those means have been purposefully denied others. At 26, Conway owned property and a car and other stuff worth buying. Millions of his comparatively less well-off compatriots, almost all of them black and brown, their prospects for a decent life stolen from them by substandard education, low level jobs — if they have work at all — and life in a tin shack — if they are not surviving on the street — have nothing to sell and no hope of starting over somewhere else. That is by design, not accident. The single exception proves the rule: Basil D’Oliveira had to rescue himself, with John Arlott’s assistance, from just such an existence to show the world how well he could play cricket. The world outside South Africa, that is.

Even so, Conway is not a cookie-cutter example of privilege — he needed a bursary to gain entry to one of the country’s most elite schools. “I remember that interview,” Norris said. “I asked him why he wanted to come to St John’s, and he looked at me with those steely eyes of his and he said, ‘I want to play cricket for South Africa and I want to get good marks.’”

Did it sadden Norris that New Zealand, not South Africa, is reaping the benefits of the first half of that ambition? “Kids who come through our hands, we obviously want them to represent their country of birth. But the reality of the situation is that he is representing himself and challenging himself at the highest possible level. The world has become so small. Sportsmen will go overseas because that’s where the money is.”

Umpteen cricketminded reactionaries have been spewing ill-considered race politics on social media since about the time the power went out at St John’s on Wednesday. That professional sport in South Africa is too small and impoverished to contain all the talent the country produces is not a truth often aired there. Conway himself was in the same dormitory at St John’s boarding facility as Scott Spedding, who captained the first XV and went on to play 23 Tests for France, and Kenyan-born Brit Chris Froome, the four-time Tour de France champion.

“We’ve got a kid at St John’s now who’s just been signed by [top French rugby club] La Rochelle,” Norris said. “And he’s black African. The professional systems overseas are just so much more established. There’s money there. You can go and play [rugby] in the third league in France and you can do very well [financially]. You can play [cricket] for a second-tier county in England and do pretty well for six or seven months of the year.”

Conway has raised himself above and beyond that level, but Norris said he hadn’t forgotten what mattered: “He’s very humble and calm. He never got too hard on himself at school, or too excited. He’s very balanced. Sometimes I’ll send him a message, and it comes back with, ‘Thank you, Sir.’ The ups and downs of cricket over the years have been his classroom. He’s taken all those lessons on board and he’s now producing the goods.”

Not that Norris was trying to hog Conway’s limelight: “It’s madness to claim an individual.” He listed Jimmy Cook, Graham Ford, Grant Morgan as instrumental in moulding the new toast of New Zealand — the seventh man to score a double century on Test debut and the first debutant foreign opener to get to three figures on England’s seaming pitches.

Norris also made a case for schools like St John’s no longer existing chiefly to prop up privilege, even if from outside their tall walls it can look like that is still their mission: “We’re here to expose kids to different aspects of life and to turn them into good human beings.”

By the look and sound of him these past two days, and quite apart from his brilliant batting, Conway would seem to have added his name to that list, too.

First published by Cricbuzz.

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