“My head and my heart have been in different places at the same time, which is not a good place to be in.” – AB de Villiers has interesting ideas on anatomy.
TELFORD VICE | Cape Town
“EVERYTHING comes to an end,” AB de Villiers, looking into a camera lens sternly, said in a video released on his app on May 24, 2018. For some, the world itself seemed to end that day: it marked his immediate retirement from international cricket.
At 34! Curtailing a career that had captured hearts and minds like few others had or will! Robbing the highest level of the game of the brilliance of a player who didn’t bat at the crease but at the corners of the envelope of possibility! And announcing this catastrophe on his own app! How weird was that?!
On the field De Villiers sees things others don’t and plays accordingly. It all makes sense when a previously unimaginable stroke sends the ball streaking through a gap that didn’t exist until, somehow, it did. Off the field he makes much less sense.
In person De Villiers invariably seems as if he has tumbled out of bed with just enough time to brush his teeth before he had to answer your knock at his door. It is no bad thing that someone as over exposed as he has been for half his now 36 years has retained something like wide-eyed innocence. Less kindly, he can come across as bewildered with the world and his place in it.
Even so, whirring behind his eyes and guided by instinct is a flinty intelligence. He needs it to keep pace with a life that could, if it isn’t carefully managed, be wrenched out of his control. Maybe that’s why he used his app to call it quits rather than submit himself to questioning that could be bent out of his preferred shape. And maybe that’s why he — or his advisors — didn’t see that putting a platform between himself and the people who think they own a piece of him, South Africa’s cricketminded public, was a bad idea.
Worse, he has angered them more than once since he walked away — voluntarily, let’s not forget. If “everything comes to an end”, why has De Villiers spent too much of the past 13 months with his nose pressed against the dressingroom window hankering to get back in?
He was the invisible elephant in that dressingroom at last year’s World Cup, where the emergence of his casual, ill-considered offer to return — without committing to playing in the team’s matches before the tournament — derailed a campaign that was always going to struggle to get out of the station.
There De Villiers was again on Wednesday, his nose flattened against the glass during his In Conversation video interview with the peerless Harsha Bhogle on Cricbuzz.
“This lockdown didn’t come at a great time,” De Villiers said. “I was quite interested and very keen to get a part in the squad and be there with the guys again … even if I just work with them, even if I don’t play. I am open to anything, I just want … the fire is there to make a difference for the guys and it has always been there. I have to assess my situation every single day, see where I am at.
“For now I just want to get on the cricket field. Hopefully IPL will happen this year … another tournament or two, I just want to get going and then we’ll reassess and I’ll have a look at where I am at, at that time, with my family, with my body, my hunger … all those things play a big role. I don’t know where I am going to be in six months’ time. Hopefully everything works out and I can get that opportunity to contribute again to whichever team I play for.”
Confused about whether he wants to play international cricket again? You’re forgiven. And you’re not alone …
“A lot of things happened in the last five years in my life and in my career. It was a confusing time, I can say that. My head and my heart have been in different places at the same time, which is not a good place to be in. Trust me, I’ve asked this question to myself a lot of times but I made the decision to retire at a time when I felt I really needed to get away.
“I got a lot of criticism at the time for picking and choosing, so there was no room to hide anymore. I couldn’t say I want a bit of time off because, again, I am picking and choosing. So I felt my only option was to say ‘listen, I am done, I am out of here’.”
In the year before he retired South Africa played 37 matches, among them 14 Tests. De Villiers featured in 24 of those games, 15 at home, the rest in England, and including seven Tests — a total of 45 days, or parts thereof, on the field. He also played 21 other matches in that time, a dozen of them for Royal Challengers Bangalore. Since he retired he has played 58 games, all of them T20s for half-a-dozen teams in as many countries. If that makes it seem as if he is working more and spending less time away from the game, consider the intangibles.
“I did retire and I am still retired. But things changed over the last three to four years. I am still healthy. I still feel I can hit the ball.”
Just because the name of a country is on a team’s playing shirts doesn’t mean that side is some kind of nationalist project whose over-arching mission is to defend their country’s honour and strive for glory in its name. They are simply a cricket team, nothing more and nothing less.
South Africans are as guilty of muddling international sport with patriotism as anyone else, but in their case this dangerous, unfortunate tendency comes laced with the poison of a past built on legislated racism. That adds exponentially to the weight of the political issues every player must bear when they wear a South Africa shirt. There is no escape, and there shouldn’t be if we hope to have a future more equitable than our past. The only way out — of the pressure to perform as well as the politics — is to retire.
Then there’s the money. De Villiers earned around 10 times as much playing 12 matches across 42 days for RCB in 2018 as he did from his last 24 games for South Africa, in pro rata contractual terms.
Those are powerful reasons to accept the decision he made to hang up his Protea cap. But accepting that choice and moving on has proved difficult for De Villiers himself, especially after Mark Boucher was appointed South Africa’s coach in December. They shared a dressingroom in 176 matches for South Africa, and were on the field together at Taunton on July 9, 2012, the first day of that tour of England, when a flying bail to the eye ended Boucher’s career. When the Test series started at the Oval 10 days later, De Villiers was behind the stumps despite the presence in the squad of Boucher’s designated understudy, Thami Tsolekile.
“In the back of my mind at that time [when I retired], I knew I was still going to play cricket. And after a good IPL or two and a bit of time in the BBL, slowly but surely that urge started coming back again. The T20 World Cup came back in my mind.
“Having spent time with Boucher at that specific time last year, it really started the conversations. It came from his side at the beginning because I would never say ‘I am back and available again’. He started the conversation and I said ‘listen, let’s just chat along and see where we go with this’.
“That’s why it looks so confusing from the outside. And I don’t think it should be that confusing. Life changes, and it shouldn’t be the same all the time. Things change, situations change from year to year and that’s basically what happened to me in the last four to five years. Yes, it looks bad from the side and it is confusing … I did retire and I am still retired. But things changed over the last three to four years. I am still healthy. I still feel I can hit the ball. If that changes, I am certainly not available for anything. But for now, we’ll see what happens in the next few games that I play.”
De Villiers is a decent, well-mannered, fair-minded man. Even those who write critically about him can be sure that, the next time they see him, they will be offered a hand to shake — virus-regulations permitting — a tip of the cap and a cheery hello. “I understand, you have a job to do,” he has told reporters more than once. But, at some level and perhaps more so when the barbs come from those whose job it isn’t to critique what he does and how he does it, the hard words hurt.
“I am human and you can see that it’s difficult for me to accept people giving me criticism when they know I am a genuine guy and that I just want the best for everyone. So that is difficult to fathom, to take in. I’ve obviously learnt over the years that it’s part of the game, it’s part of what I do. Not everyone can like you. My parents always told me you can’t please the whole world … but I want to. Why not?
“Anyway, that’s probably where a lot of indecision came in. I want to be there, I want to show people I am genuine and I just mean the best for everyone in the team and myself. I come from a good place and it’s difficult to then get a kickback on that and hear that ‘AB is indecisive, AB has turned his back …’ It is tough, I am sensitive, there’s no doubt about it. I am just a human being after all. So, yeah, it is difficult.”
It’s difficult for everyone concerned. De Villiers first said yes to South Africa at St George’s Park in December 2004. Thirteen months ago he said no. Now he seems to be saying wait. Sorry?
First published by Cricbuzz.
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