Deep Backward Point

Deep backward points on cricket. Mostly backwards.

Category: Column

Ballsiness

Of all the popular numbers, miles per gallon is a bit of a liar. It doesn’t say what many people think says.

Take three cars. The Honda CR-V gets 20mpg, the Honda Civic 30 mpg and the Insight gets 40mpg. So the Insight is 10 better than the Civic. The Civic is 10 better than the CR-V. Simple, right?

Wrong. Let’s flip the number around to gallons consumed per 100 miles. Now the CR-V costs 5 gallons to get to 100 miles, the Civic 3.3 and the Insight 2.5.

The Insight is still better than the rest, but not by as much. When judging about cost-effectiveness, the gallons/100 miles is a better number.

What you hold constant at 100 matters. Holding the number of miles constant at 100 is a better way of understanding performance, because it maps well with reality– your commute distance, the distance to the mall and the number of miles you will drive in a year are largely constant. So what you really want to know is how many gallons of gasoline will it take you to get there?

Of course, car companies want you to dream about where you can go on a tank of gas

Now let’s take the Strike Rate in cricket. It tells us how many runs a batsman would score if he faced 100 balls.

This is a very useful number. It tells me that if I had a team full of Sehwags (ODI SR: 105), then we would make 315 per 300-ball ODI. And since Sehwag averages 35, a team full of Sehwags would get to about 315 for 9 in 50 overs.

In T20 Internationals, a team full of Sehwags (T20I SR: 152) would make about 183 per 120-ball match. And since Sehwag averages 23, it would be 183 for 8 in 20 overs.

This is a useful number because the number of balls is a constant in limited overs cricket. This makes comparisons proportional. A team full of 70SR would get to 210 in an ODI, 60SR would get to 180 and 80SR would get to 240.

Of course, we could flip this around, the way we flipped the miles per gallon.

The new flipped number would be the number of balls it would take for a batsman to get to 100. Let’s call this new stat ballsiness.

As in, how ballsy is Sehwag? For Sehwag in ODIs, the number of balls he takes per 100 runs is 95.23. So the answer is, very ballsy

In general, this is useless. There is no purpose in holding the number of runs to be scored as constant, because the overarching reality of limited overs cricket is limited overs.

But a few recent tournaments have turned this assumption on its head. The catalyst? The bonus point.

To recap, in the recent CB Series in Australia and the Asia Cup in Bangladesh, a team could get a bonus point by scoring at a run-rate that was 1.25 times their opponent. So if Australia bat first and score 200 in 50 overs (RR: 4), then India would have to chase it down in about 38 overs (RR: 5.25) to get the bonus point.

Now we have a situation where the number of runs to get is a constant and you are trying to minimize the number of deliveries taken to get there. So our new flipped number– balls per 100 runs, ballsiness– becomes useful.

Now, (a team of) Sehwags would chase 201 runs in about 31.5 overs.

Virat Kohli (ODI SR: 85) has a ballsiness of 117. So a Kohli XI would chase the same target of 201 in about 39.1 overs.

Jonathon Trott (ODI SR: 78) has a ballsiness of 128, so a Trott team would chase the same target in about 43 overs.

*

So what’s the meaning of all of this? Not much really, except to stimulate some thought. People talk about Moneyball all the time, but fans can’t understand many of the newly invented statistics. Like the Duckworth-Lewis method, these new-fangled statistics add barriers between the fans and their game. My idea is to think about ways to think about numbers that improve our understanding and our discourse.

My other idea was to force you to imagine a team full of Trotts.

A Weighty Issue: Two English Journalists Talk About Samit Patel

All this talk about Samit Patel. I can’t stomach it.

It is a weighty issue.

Is he hungry.. for success?

Yes, at the highest level. But sometimes I feel he is being waisted.

Ah but the weight of expectation is pretty high now.

That’s food for thought.

He is a player worth his weight in gold.

That’s a lot of gold. But does he really measure up when compared with the competition?

There’s a growing body of research that shows he can make it at the highest level.

It’s just a matter of mind over platter, you know.

True. He just needs to quit cold turkey.

A trip to the paint store is in order. He just needs to get a little thinner.

Fat chance. All this talk is wearing him thin.

I get the feeling this might all just be wishful shrinking.

If he succeeds, he can enjoy a heavy bottom-line.

A waist is a terrible thing to mind.

Dravid

For sixteen years, Tendulkar could afford to be Tendulkar, Ganguly could afford to be Ganguly, Sehwag could afford to be Sehwag and Dhoni could afford to be Dhoni, because Dravid was always Dravid.

Ganguly and Dravid making their debut at Lord’s will long be remembered as a Test match that changed cricket for the better.

Rahul Dravid, take a break. Then come back, and we’ll talk. There’s a lot of work to be done in Indian cricket.

Dravid at Eden Gardens, 2001

Dravid at Eden Gardens, 2001: the match that changed what was possible.

Previously on DeepBackwardPoint:

And So It Begins

I left India in 2001, the year of the Kolkata Test. The Australian team from that match has one player left in the team– Ricky Ponting.

India have five– Sachin Tendulkar, Rahul Dravid, VVS Laxman, Harbhajan Singh and Zaheer Khan.

That is remarkable.

Later this year, it will have been ten years since the Natwest Trophy Finals.

England has no players left from that eleven.

India have six left in their ODI setup, and seven overall.

That is remarkable.

By the end of of 2012, a lot of this will change: VVS and Dravid will be gone, and so might Tendulkar. On the international scene, Ponting and Boucher may be gone. Perhaps Kallis, Sangakkara, Jayawardene not far behind?

So far, the Indian team has had an unbelievably strong connection with the team I grew up watching. Tendulkar made his debut under Srikkanth, and played with Shastri, Vengsarkar and Kapil Dev. Dravid made his debut under Azhar, and against Atherton. Elsewhere, Ponting made his debut under Mark Taylor, in a team that included Healy, Boon and McDermott.

So far, we have been only one degree of separation away from the past, from my childhood. After 2011, we will be two degrees of separation away.

Goodbye, Dravid.

Mr. Vice-Captain

When our teams lose, it changes who we are. It changes our self-image. Our teams are a part of our identity.

Instead of being the guy who roots for a fighting, winning team, I have become, as an India fan, a guy who roots for the team that has rarely put up a fight.

And it changes my self-image.

Sure, we shouldn’t be so shallow. We shouldn’t wear our hearts on our sleeves. We should have a thicker skin and not let the fates of young men we will never meet affect us so deeply.

We should.

But then again, there are moments like this. When Virat Kohli single-handedly rips a match apart and stitches it together again to his own design.

Moments when we again, perhaps briefly, become the guys who root for a fighting, winning team.

We may be hopeless romantics, begging for abuse. But on Monday, in Hobart, Virat Kohli made us feel better about ourselves.

Which reminds me of an article I wrote 11 months ago. About how Tendulkar pulled an ObiWan Kenobi in the World Cup Finals:

[When Tendulkar got out] even though he didn’t intend it, Tendulkar gave the rest of the team a reason to win it. They had said that they would do it for Tendulkar. Now they had to prove it. Tendulkar wasn’t going to do it for them.

By not holding their hand across the victory line, Tendulkar effectively ushered in the next generation of Indian cricket.

And that’s what was reiterated on Monday.

Yeh Sarkaar Nahi Chalegi

In an old Hindi film, I believe Ashirwad from 1968, the venerable actor Ashok Kumar is trying to entertain kids in a playground. Somebody suspects that he is trying to kidnap a kid, and there’s a big ruckus.

The camera shifts to the edge of the field, where a man on a bicycle stops to watch the hullaballoo.

He asks someone, “What’s going on?” The reply, “Some man was trying to kidnap a young girl.”

To which the bicyclewallah replies, “Yeh sarkaar nahi chalegi!

Again, in English, “This government is unacceptable!

While this little sideshow may seem familiar to people from all around the world, it is particularly familiar in India and Pakistan. The countries birthed through Satyagraha, civil disobedience, are perpetually railing against the man.

Even when the man is not personally responsible for their problems.

One side-effect of perpetually railing against the man is that many Indian writers are constantly in this mode. The evils of BCCI are lurking behind every corner. I’m yet to hear a good, solid, researched article on what parts of the Indian system were responsible for the three successful years under Dhoni/Kirsten, but I’ve seen thousands that explain every defeat.

Take Misbah-ul-Haq, the latest victim of the yeh sarkaar nahi chalegi syndrome. Poor guy just led Pakistan through one of their most successful years in history, their most successful Test series in memory, but a few lost ODIs later he’s the man.

Relax. Misbah is, quite literally, playing the long game. And lest you forget, the past 20 years have been a tumultuous time for Pakistan captains.

In the past, I have written about how Miandad was a microcosm for Pakistan cricket. Everything good and bad about Miandad, represents my impression of the Pakistan team. Which is why when they’re not playing India, I’m rooting for Pakistan.

But imagine a future where Misbah was that microcosm. Where everything good and bad about Misbah, was what is good and bad about Pakistan. Slow, measured progress with bursts of brilliance, with calculated risks. Medium-term goals. Stability.  Imagine that.

Pakistan has had 15 ODI captains since Imran (to contrast, India have had 7), and most of their fates have not been pretty.

Pakistan, this could be your Pax Romana. Your long stretch of Roman Peace after rough times.

And you didn’t even have to kill Caesar to get here. Just two Butts.

No, Mr. Bhogle. Indians Are Not Culturally Suited to the Shorter Form.

A curious paragraph from Harsha Bhogle where his hypothesis is that India does better at the shorter format because they are culturally aligned:

One-day captaincy is much more about instinct and short-term rewards, which we in India are naturally adept at extracting. We see opportunities quickly, we rush in, we are satisfied. A space opens up in a crowded local train and we edge in there, a new counter opens at a bus station and we are first in the new queue; our eyes are forever darting around looking for an opening because if we miss it we may not get another. As a wonderfully instinctive person who has his wits around him, Dhoni revels in these conditions. A five-day game is more like booking your ticket early and reserving a seat rather than charging around looking for one.

The paragraph is curiouser because Dhoni is, in fact, a former Indian Railways ticket collector.

I could write a similar paragraph about how India would obviously do better at Test cricket because they are used to waiting in long lines for their LPG cylinders. Patience has been bred in to them at a young age, so obviously they were number one in Test cricket.

But I don’t have a deadline and a word limit looming.

Another line from Bhogle in the same article:

India are not too bad, as we saw even in the Tests in England and Australia, over short bursts. Maintaining that quality over longer periods is a different skill, and like peace in the modern world, it is a bit scarce in India at the moment.

Less egregious. Mostly just a writer conjuring up a catchy simile. But it’s mostly untrue. The modern era is among the most peaceful, even if it’s people are more nervous about random acts of violence than any previous generation. A graph from the Wall Street Journal (also click through for a graph on homicide rates over the centuries):

Also, India have actually been quite good in away Test matches as recently as one year ago. So wrong on both counts, Mr. Bhogle: it’s a peaceful world where India have recently played good, patient Test cricket.

It’s Fair, It’s Science, But Perhaps It’s Just Not Cricket

Most sports have barriers between casual fans and the game. Some are larger than others. I remember watching soccer as a kid, and while most of the game was straightforward (kick ball in to net), the off-side rule always tripped me up. Suddenly the game would stop, the ball would change hands, and only an expert with a slow-motion replay could tell you why.

When I started watching the NBA, I could never explain the various fouls (was that travelling, a 3-second violation, or just a regular elbow to the ribs?) and the one trillion timeouts in the fourth quarter. A friend once tried to convince me that they actually stop the game so the broadcasters could show advertisements.

Compared to cricket, though, these are minor barriers. The objective is still “get the ball in the net“. Cricket is a complex sport with various arcane rules and the fans who are within the fold– those of us who get it– usually enjoy the game because of these intricacies, not in spite of them.

The modern changes to the game that DuckingBeamers describes are different:

I don’t have any particular animosity to DRS, or Duckworth-Lewis, or even the 15-degree rule — I accept that the science behind them is generally rigorous (even if Hawkeye still freaks me out a little bit). But I worry these technocratic rules raise a barrier between fans and the game, and I yearn  for a simpler discourse that respects fate and fortune over human agency — if only because I think fans should understand the game they profess to love.

These are changes that create barriers between the dedicated fan and his sport, not just casual fans. They may be fair, if the fairness of sport is judged in a court of law, but it’s not clear they make the sport better. Much worse than the off-side rule made me suffer as a player and viewer as a child, these new innovations bring you out of the game and force you to accept an external reality.

It’s all smooth sailing until, pause: the mathematicians say India lost, or the biomechanical engineer says your bowler is a chucker, or the computer says you’re out. They force you to accept that you, the dedicated fan, can’t explain the game you love. It’s fair, it’s science, but perhaps it’s just not cricket.

Become a Hollywood Bigshot, Help Fund a Cricket Documentary

Ok, I can’t promise the Hollywood big-shot part. But I can promise the warm, fuzzy feeling of helping two great people you don’t really know make a movie.

Ok, I can’t promise they’re great people. They look awfully nice in their Two Chucks videos on Cricinfo. And one of them has been awfully nice to this blog in the past. (“Please, I don’t want to read your stupid blog, give me the link to fund them!”)

Here’s the documentary, currently being filmed by Jarrod Kimber and Sam Collins in Australia (trailer):

Death of a Gentleman is a snapshot of Test cricket through the Australia vs India Test series in 2011-12. Is Test cricket dying? Does anybody care? How can a sport be run so badly and hope to survive? Sam Collins and Jarrod Kimber ask these questions and more of cricket’s biggest names and the fans who will decide the game’s future.

But if those aren’t reasons enough to help fund their documentary on cricket, here are three more:

  1. It’s cheap: you can spend as little as 10 pounds, and still claim you funded a major foreign documentary. Make sure you say “foreign” if you want to sound pretentious. If you’re from the UK, claim it’s really Australian, and vice versa. Make sure you do not say “foreign”, if talking to wingnuts. Also, don’t be cheap.
  2. You get freebees: Depending on how much you spend, you get all kinds of knick-knacks, doo-dads, and even a Producer credit. The Producer credit only goes to the obscenely wealthy.
  3. They have a sense of humor: Or humour. These are the guys who had the balls to call themselves Two Pricks. Let’s face it, if you were watching a documentary about the rumored death of cricket as we knew it, wouldn’t you want the bearers of bad news to have a sense of humor? Gallows humor never hurt anyone. Except for relatives of the condemned.
  4. They are serious: Sure they have a sense of humor, but they are getting this thing made for real. The filming is in progress, they have already raised 35,000 pounds.

Ok, that was four reasons. Now that you’re convinced– it’s very simple. Go to WeFund, and fund Death of a Gentleman.

Frequently Asked Questions On Willow TV Legal Notices

Willow TV has released their own official FAQ. Please read that first. The below information may be out of date. This FAQ will be updated as new details emerge. Here is the original article on this story, with many comments from those affected. Please suggest additional questions (for me or to pose to Willow staff) in the comments or on Twitter
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