Andy Richardson: Ditching the game’s star players is simply not cricket

Cricket. The perfect sport if your parents can afford £1,000 per year on equipment and transport. The perfect sport if you don’t go to a school where the local authority has sold the playing fields off to a housing developer and there are too many cars whizzing past to play in the street.

A generation ago, the nation would come together to delight in the exploits of such characters as Freddie Flintoff and Kevin Pietersen as their swashbuckling exploits – and ability to drink their own bodyweight in booze – made them Boy’s Own heroes.

Two generations ago, the same was true of such heroes as Ian Botham and David Gower.

And then the administrators in charge decided to sell off the family jewels to a billionaire Aussie media mogul so nobody can watch it and so few care in the way they once did. Clever, huh?

While other sports strive for media exposure, cricket travelled in the opposite direction, hiding itself away behind a paywall while developing problems with accusations of racism, sexism and an inability to know a good thing when it comes along.

And so as we look forward to a new season, we can marvel at the genius of national selectors who’ve decided to drop two of the three world class players in the national side.

Stuart Broad and James ‘Jimmy’ Anderson are the last of a dying breed; red ball players who’d have triumphed in any age. Think of them as being the Lewis Hamilton or Roger Federer of the game. They have world leading records and have amassed more match-winning performances than the rest of our national side combined – with the sole exception of rubbish-at-captaining-but-great-at-batting skipper, Joe Root.

As England looks to regain confidence following a disastrous Ashes campaign, it might make sense for them to field their best side as they head out on a challenging and exciting tour of the West Indies.

And so while either Broad or Anderson have been the two leading wicket takers of the past nine years and while both remain fit and at the peak of their powers, they’ve been dropped.

What’s that phrase about throwing the baby out with the bath water?

Still, cricket’s not the only sport that has rubbish administrators. F1 is embarking on a new season after the debacle of 2021 when a world-record-breaking Lewis Hamilton victory was curtailed by a guy who created new rules that saw someone else win. Think of the ratings, baby.

As sport was turned into a pointless, unedifying and just plain dodgy form of entertainment, defeat was snatched from the jaws of victory thanks to a man who was later relieved of his duties.

Imagine being the guy who’s career is defined by a moment in which the world looks at its TV screen and shouts: ‘But that’s not fair!’.

Or, in another sport, by people shouting: ‘That’s just not cricket.’

Two years ago, when the world came to a standstill, I did what any self-respecting fan of summer sports might do: killed the garden so that I could play ball in the back yard. A net was erected, a bowling machine procured and a carefully manicured lawn became a dustbowl as I smashed off drives from 22 yards. Only three times did the ball race over the neighbour’s fence, requiring the standard call: ‘Please can I have my ball back?’

And then we moved. And I gave the bowling machine to someone 40 years younger who is mastering skills for the new season. A boy with high hopes and a girl who doesn’t realise how good she might become are honing talents that will take them far. All they’ll need is a promise that pen pushers, rule makers and administrators don’t get in the way of their natural love for the game. Howzat.