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What blew down the ECB House of Cards? KP - the autobiography reviewed
So what blew down the ECB House of Cards in the end? Was it Mitchell Johnson running in with the Fremantle Doctor behind him? Or was it KP, ace or knave, the man who never quite fitted into any suit? I called a spade a spade he writes but I was never part of the club. The man with the diamond earring whose pack questioned if his heart was in the right place.
Pietersen, in his expertly ghosted new book, talks extensively about his sense of being “outside cricket”. Maybe this is the reason that is has been left to others “outside cricket” to ask the kind of questions of the ECB that those inside it seem unwilling or unable to do. The book reads sometimes as a constant battle, personal and cultural, with people who just don’t get him. As Pietersen himself admits, the fault is not one-sided. He didn’t fit the mould of a traditional England test cricketer and had no time for the performance-management culture so beloved of Andy Flower. When the ECB used him and Andrew Flintoff as poster boys to attract new audiences in 2005, he argues that the arrangement would only ever work as long as his performances didn’t dip. Once they did he expected to be cut off.
It’s difficult sometimes to judge what a reasonable request in life as opposed to elite sport. The ECB’s attitude towards wives and families feels like the sort you would get from an oil company regarding a North Sea rig. “You’re here to work and your family are a distraction.” In what other context though would we see it as acceptable to deny workers the right to see their family at times when they are not “at work” per se. Pietersen complains bitterly that he wasn’t allowed to have his family with him on tour, visit them during a series and that these conflicts soured his relationship with the captain and coach. Does he have a point? Maybe. It certainly seems clear that the level of intensity brought about by being on tour and the emotional stresses and strains that came with that might have been alleviated by being “able to get away from it”. Pietersen uses the book to pinpoint this as a reason for Jonathan Trott’s departure after one test of the 2013/4 Ashes. Maybe not though. Families can be a distraction, alienate the players not in relationships and prevent team spirit from forming.
His conflict with the “bowling clique” over the bullying culture is also used as another reason why Pietersen fell out with teammates and became isolated from the team. Clearly strong personalities won’t always get along in a team and, as know from Graeme Swann’s description of his altercation with Darren Gough in 1998, conflict can occur. I’m not sure though that I totally buy Pietersen as the team-man who is trying to stop the bullying and stand up to other players. All too often he comes across as, wait for it, disengaged. Disengaged from people who are not like him. As he admits regarding the 2012 Headingley test, he had more friends in the South African than English dressing room at that point. That can’t be right. I’ve written before about how there is a certain kind of English micky-taking/”banter” that Pietersen never quite got. After Swann was arrested for drink-driving while on a mission to ASDA to free his cat (!), it was Pietersen that made fun of it in a tweet soon after it had happened. No-one else mentioned it. As Steve Harmison has said, Pietersen was never shy about sharing his view of players or coaches that he didn’t rate. If there was a man able to change the culture it maybe wasn’t Pietersen.
Some of the book has made for uncomfortable reading. When I wrote about Pietersen back in January, I suggested that Matt Prior (form notwithstanding) would be the ideal man to be captain. Were we really all that hoodwinked? It seems strange that a man who is apparently so grating and annoying would have had such a positive reputation. Certainly the way he is portrayed, referring to himself as Cheese, speaking in the third person, it seems impossible that someone in that dressing room wouldn’t have sounded off to a journalist about him yet we’ve heard nothing. Maybe, as Pietersen has indicated, more will come out when other players, freed from the ECB gag, get round to writing their books. The criticism of Andy Flower feels a little more justified. In many ways you sense that the pastoral side of the England coach’s role was simply beyond Flower’s skillset and it’s hard not to have some sympathy for the view that he neither liked not trusted Pietersen and was looking for a reason to toss him out. Despite that they had a working relationship, healthy or otherwise, for 6+ years. Pietersen would not conform and Flower prized conformity beyond individual brilliance.
The most compelling part of the book for me is the way the ECB continually and shabbily treated what should have been their prize asset. Whilst Pietersen is certainly not blameless in the situations that arose, the ECB appears to have continually briefed against him, leaked private conversation, glossed over misbehaviour by others and made an example of Pietersen whenever it got the chance. The book is replete with examples of articles appearing in the press about what KP said or did that could only have been known by himself and the ECB and only served the latter to put into the public domain. Pietersen presents an image of a man constantly beset by journalists who knew things they frankly shouldn’t have done. Under such circumstances a little paranoia is understandable. The sense of one rule for KP and different rules for others would have been heightened by KP Genius and textgate. As Pietersen puts it:
The ECB’s refusal to investigate KP Genius properly, even after being told by Alec Stewart that current members of the dressing room were involved, is a clear case of double standards and Pietersen is right to feel aggrieved. Equally so with the attempts Pietersen made to reduce his workload and redress his work/family balance. Being told that ODIs and T20s are non-negotiable with no exceptions coming so soon before an exception was made for Andy Flower makes it frankly laughable. In many ways the class system that has riven cricket for so long still seems to be in place for the ECB’s dealings with Pietersen. He was a player. Cook and Flower were gentlemen. From the right families.
It is also significant in how the book portrays the ECB’s insular outlook towards the changing game. The board comes across as far more money-grabbing and unprincipled than anyone involved in the Indian Premier League through the way it flogs its players through match after match, is behoven to its sponsors and of course through the Stanford business, which even at the time looked appalling. To which we can add the recent disgraceful carve up of world cricket and probable financial ruin of the associate nations, all done to ensure the ECB’s “proper” seat at the top table, in perpetuity.
The saddest part of this story, in many ways, is the utter refusal of the traditional “inside cricket” media to hold the ECB to account. It’s an old boys club, runs by ex-cricketers and written about by ex-cricketers. What chance did an upstart from South Africa have? In addition the ECB controls access and journalists without access to matches and players are out of a job (out of their job at any rate). As the ECB proved with the Cricketer magazine over TestMatchSofa, they can and will cut off access if they need to or Sky requires it. Maybe this is why the same ex-cricketers are currently wringing their hands over “damage being done to the game.” Clearly they would prefer that we were happy about lied it, patronised and denied the sublime talents of England’s leading run scorer.
At the risk of resorting to cliché, cricket in England is at a dangerous crossroads. Pietersen rightly points out the drop in public interest since the last series on terrestrial television in 2005. At the moment where England won 3 consecutive Ashes series and reached number 1 in the world far too few of their fans were able to watch them. Does Sky money trump interest from young and impressionable fans? In all honesty we will have to wait a few more years to find this out. There were unique circumstances in 2005, the length of time since the last Ashes victory, the presence of genuine superstars in the England side, the fact it was an Australian team still filled with greats, but Pietersen’s point is still well made that without new fans coming through the game itself is threatened. Even more so, he says implicitly, when those who do watch are prevented from watching me play.
To go back to my original question did Pietersen destroy the house of cards? Despite the denials of current players it seems clear the atmosphere in the dressing room in Australia was both toxic and brittle. There had been signs before the series going back to the Pakistan series in 2012 and New Zealand in 2013 that there was a bowler/batter split in the side. I, and others, wrote about it at the time. My diagnosis was under-performing batsmen and match-winning bowlers and it seems likely that that was the bowlers’ diagnosis too. The foundations were weak and despite some notable successes the structure was swaying. It was when the bowlers were no longer able to take 20 wickets and dominate sides that the whole edifice came crashing down. David Warner was as much responsible as Mitchell Johnson, which is to say that neither were really responsible.
Pietersen writes about how Andy Flower kept talking about legacy during the final Ashes series; his legacy though not England’s. At the infamous team meeting after the 4th test it was Matt Prior who blamed Andy Flower for micro-managing and few it seems disagreed. With the series gone it starts to look like Flower decided that his legacy instead should be finally ridding the side of its turbulent priest (of the cult of the KP). It appears that the ECB were only too happy to acquiesce.
Has Pietersen had his career cut short? Some argue that his form was poor anyway, for which Pietersen blames his knee injury sustained during the 2013 New Zealand series. Could dropping him from the test side on form grounds be justified? Possibly. Should he be used a scapegoat for the defeat? Absolutely not. Were non-cricketing grounds justified for his sacking? Absolutely not.
So it turns out that the House of Cards was more like the Michael Dobbs one. Petty rivalries, back stabbing, naked ambition and all the time a smile and the pretence that everything was alright when everyone knew it wasn’t. I celebrate a book that exposes that and I celebrate Pietersen’s all-too-short England career.
Continue reading the Original Blog Post.
What blew down the ECB House of Cards? KP - the autobiography reviewed
So what blew down the ECB House of Cards in the end? Was it Mitchell Johnson running in with the Fremantle Doctor behind him? Or was it KP, ace or knave, the man who never quite fitted into any suit? I called a spade a spade he writes but I was never part of the club. The man with the diamond earring whose pack questioned if his heart was in the right place.
Pietersen, in his expertly ghosted new book, talks extensively about his sense of being “outside cricket”. Maybe this is the reason that is has been left to others “outside cricket” to ask the kind of questions of the ECB that those inside it seem unwilling or unable to do. The book reads sometimes as a constant battle, personal and cultural, with people who just don’t get him. As Pietersen himself admits, the fault is not one-sided. He didn’t fit the mould of a traditional England test cricketer and had no time for the performance-management culture so beloved of Andy Flower. When the ECB used him and Andrew Flintoff as poster boys to attract new audiences in 2005, he argues that the arrangement would only ever work as long as his performances didn’t dip. Once they did he expected to be cut off.
It’s difficult sometimes to judge what a reasonable request in life as opposed to elite sport. The ECB’s attitude towards wives and families feels like the sort you would get from an oil company regarding a North Sea rig. “You’re here to work and your family are a distraction.” In what other context though would we see it as acceptable to deny workers the right to see their family at times when they are not “at work” per se. Pietersen complains bitterly that he wasn’t allowed to have his family with him on tour, visit them during a series and that these conflicts soured his relationship with the captain and coach. Does he have a point? Maybe. It certainly seems clear that the level of intensity brought about by being on tour and the emotional stresses and strains that came with that might have been alleviated by being “able to get away from it”. Pietersen uses the book to pinpoint this as a reason for Jonathan Trott’s departure after one test of the 2013/4 Ashes. Maybe not though. Families can be a distraction, alienate the players not in relationships and prevent team spirit from forming.
His conflict with the “bowling clique” over the bullying culture is also used as another reason why Pietersen fell out with teammates and became isolated from the team. Clearly strong personalities won’t always get along in a team and, as know from Graeme Swann’s description of his altercation with Darren Gough in 1998, conflict can occur. I’m not sure though that I totally buy Pietersen as the team-man who is trying to stop the bullying and stand up to other players. All too often he comes across as, wait for it, disengaged. Disengaged from people who are not like him. As he admits regarding the 2012 Headingley test, he had more friends in the South African than English dressing room at that point. That can’t be right. I’ve written before about how there is a certain kind of English micky-taking/”banter” that Pietersen never quite got. After Swann was arrested for drink-driving while on a mission to ASDA to free his cat (!), it was Pietersen that made fun of it in a tweet soon after it had happened. No-one else mentioned it. As Steve Harmison has said, Pietersen was never shy about sharing his view of players or coaches that he didn’t rate. If there was a man able to change the culture it maybe wasn’t Pietersen.
Some of the book has made for uncomfortable reading. When I wrote about Pietersen back in January, I suggested that Matt Prior (form notwithstanding) would be the ideal man to be captain. Were we really all that hoodwinked? It seems strange that a man who is apparently so grating and annoying would have had such a positive reputation. Certainly the way he is portrayed, referring to himself as Cheese, speaking in the third person, it seems impossible that someone in that dressing room wouldn’t have sounded off to a journalist about him yet we’ve heard nothing. Maybe, as Pietersen has indicated, more will come out when other players, freed from the ECB gag, get round to writing their books. The criticism of Andy Flower feels a little more justified. In many ways you sense that the pastoral side of the England coach’s role was simply beyond Flower’s skillset and it’s hard not to have some sympathy for the view that he neither liked not trusted Pietersen and was looking for a reason to toss him out. Despite that they had a working relationship, healthy or otherwise, for 6+ years. Pietersen would not conform and Flower prized conformity beyond individual brilliance.
The most compelling part of the book for me is the way the ECB continually and shabbily treated what should have been their prize asset. Whilst Pietersen is certainly not blameless in the situations that arose, the ECB appears to have continually briefed against him, leaked private conversation, glossed over misbehaviour by others and made an example of Pietersen whenever it got the chance. The book is replete with examples of articles appearing in the press about what KP said or did that could only have been known by himself and the ECB and only served the latter to put into the public domain. Pietersen presents an image of a man constantly beset by journalists who knew things they frankly shouldn’t have done. Under such circumstances a little paranoia is understandable. The sense of one rule for KP and different rules for others would have been heightened by KP Genius and textgate. As Pietersen puts it:
“So publicly humiliating a teammate via Twitter meets the criteria of mutual respect and trust. Private messages never intended to be seen by anyone except the two people exchanging them fails the mutual-respect test.”
The ECB’s refusal to investigate KP Genius properly, even after being told by Alec Stewart that current members of the dressing room were involved, is a clear case of double standards and Pietersen is right to feel aggrieved. Equally so with the attempts Pietersen made to reduce his workload and redress his work/family balance. Being told that ODIs and T20s are non-negotiable with no exceptions coming so soon before an exception was made for Andy Flower makes it frankly laughable. In many ways the class system that has riven cricket for so long still seems to be in place for the ECB’s dealings with Pietersen. He was a player. Cook and Flower were gentlemen. From the right families.
It is also significant in how the book portrays the ECB’s insular outlook towards the changing game. The board comes across as far more money-grabbing and unprincipled than anyone involved in the Indian Premier League through the way it flogs its players through match after match, is behoven to its sponsors and of course through the Stanford business, which even at the time looked appalling. To which we can add the recent disgraceful carve up of world cricket and probable financial ruin of the associate nations, all done to ensure the ECB’s “proper” seat at the top table, in perpetuity.
The saddest part of this story, in many ways, is the utter refusal of the traditional “inside cricket” media to hold the ECB to account. It’s an old boys club, runs by ex-cricketers and written about by ex-cricketers. What chance did an upstart from South Africa have? In addition the ECB controls access and journalists without access to matches and players are out of a job (out of their job at any rate). As the ECB proved with the Cricketer magazine over TestMatchSofa, they can and will cut off access if they need to or Sky requires it. Maybe this is why the same ex-cricketers are currently wringing their hands over “damage being done to the game.” Clearly they would prefer that we were happy about lied it, patronised and denied the sublime talents of England’s leading run scorer.
At the risk of resorting to cliché, cricket in England is at a dangerous crossroads. Pietersen rightly points out the drop in public interest since the last series on terrestrial television in 2005. At the moment where England won 3 consecutive Ashes series and reached number 1 in the world far too few of their fans were able to watch them. Does Sky money trump interest from young and impressionable fans? In all honesty we will have to wait a few more years to find this out. There were unique circumstances in 2005, the length of time since the last Ashes victory, the presence of genuine superstars in the England side, the fact it was an Australian team still filled with greats, but Pietersen’s point is still well made that without new fans coming through the game itself is threatened. Even more so, he says implicitly, when those who do watch are prevented from watching me play.
To go back to my original question did Pietersen destroy the house of cards? Despite the denials of current players it seems clear the atmosphere in the dressing room in Australia was both toxic and brittle. There had been signs before the series going back to the Pakistan series in 2012 and New Zealand in 2013 that there was a bowler/batter split in the side. I, and others, wrote about it at the time. My diagnosis was under-performing batsmen and match-winning bowlers and it seems likely that that was the bowlers’ diagnosis too. The foundations were weak and despite some notable successes the structure was swaying. It was when the bowlers were no longer able to take 20 wickets and dominate sides that the whole edifice came crashing down. David Warner was as much responsible as Mitchell Johnson, which is to say that neither were really responsible.
Pietersen writes about how Andy Flower kept talking about legacy during the final Ashes series; his legacy though not England’s. At the infamous team meeting after the 4th test it was Matt Prior who blamed Andy Flower for micro-managing and few it seems disagreed. With the series gone it starts to look like Flower decided that his legacy instead should be finally ridding the side of its turbulent priest (of the cult of the KP). It appears that the ECB were only too happy to acquiesce.
Has Pietersen had his career cut short? Some argue that his form was poor anyway, for which Pietersen blames his knee injury sustained during the 2013 New Zealand series. Could dropping him from the test side on form grounds be justified? Possibly. Should he be used a scapegoat for the defeat? Absolutely not. Were non-cricketing grounds justified for his sacking? Absolutely not.
So it turns out that the House of Cards was more like the Michael Dobbs one. Petty rivalries, back stabbing, naked ambition and all the time a smile and the pretence that everything was alright when everyone knew it wasn’t. I celebrate a book that exposes that and I celebrate Pietersen’s all-too-short England career.
Continue reading the Original Blog Post.
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