Why Kevin Pietersen is the exception to the No ******** Rule
Something fascinating is going on in English cricket at the moment.
(And there, I say to myself, is a phrase not oft used 'neath the Southern Cross for many and many a'moon, ... but I digress.)
See, former English cricket captain Andrew Strauss had no sooner been installed in the position of Director of English Cricket, than he was asked – some 10 seconds into his first press conference, what his attitude towards outcast, troubled genius England batsman Kevin Pietersen was.
Kevin Pietersen bats during the County Championship.
Kevin Pietersen bats during the County Championship. Photo: Getty Images
Look, I am paraphrasing the sentiment here, rather than quoting the words, but Strauss essentially said he'd sooner put hot knitting needles in his ears than ever allow Pietersen back into the same postcode as the England cricket side, let alone the team itself. No, he didn't specifically cite the No ******** rule, but that is what it boiled down to.
There is a "massive trust issue" between Pietersen and the England Cricket Board, Strauss said, and therefore a return for Pietersen is "not in the best short-term interests of the side."
Alas for Strauss was that as he was speaking, Pietersen was finishing up a triple-century for his Surrey county side of such breath-taking genius that even opposing fans got blisters from clapping.
See, English stocks have fallen so low they couldn't beat the lowly-rated West Indies in a Test series. But allow Pietersen back in?
Not on your nelly.
I humbly submit, even as a great admirer, and booster, of the "No ******** Rule", that Strauss is badly mistaken in this.
For yes, its inventor, Swans coach Paul Roos, demonstrated the efficacy of the rule during his successful reign in Sydney.
But it was never a cast-iron rule, and there was always a let-out clause to it, which it is apposite to cite now.
Are you reading, Andrew Strauss?
On page 2 of the No ******** Handbook, second paragraph, third line, it reads:
"When the said ******** is so extravagantly talented, it would be sheer madness not to have them in the team, you may not only ignore the 'No ********s Rule', but – and never more than when your own stocks are lower than a snake's belly-button – you may even crawl across cut glass to have them."
Roos invoked that clause a couple of times recruiting the likes of Spida Everitt to the side, and was well rewarded for his trouble.
Many other notable examples in Australian sport spring to mind of where difficult characters have nevertheless helped a team to prosper, up to and including the selection Don Bradman in the Australian cricket team.
Settle, my people, I said settle!
Easy ... easy ...
Steady, steady.
Good horsie. Goooood, horsie. Gooooooooood horsie. Attaboy.
No, of course I did not think that Sir Donald was any such thing, and was raised to revere him like no other. And no-one who is a mere mortal has any right to express any such opinion. But there is no doubt that the likes of Tiger O'Reilly and Keith Miller thought that, though neither would have used the term.
(Tiger used something less vulgar, Keith something a little fruitier.)
Closer to now, back in the late 80s and early 90s, David Campese springs to mind. Beyond being the singular genius of the side, doing things that other players could not conceive of, let alone execute, the only thing that rivalled his capacity for scoring breathtaking tries was rubbing teammates up the wrong way and over time be burnt the lot of us, with no exceptions.
Nevertheless, his Wallaby captain, Nick Farr-Jones, took the clear, if never enunciated, attitude that "Campo might be a ********, but he's our ********".
Nick always went out of his to build a bridge to Campo so the rest of us could get over it, and the great winger responded accordingly.
Campo was never under so much attack as after the loss to the Lions in 1989 – both from outside and inside the team – and never so vociferously defended as by Nick afterwards. He returned the faith in spades by turning in the performances of his life in the 1991 World Cup.
Ditto Shane Warne. Constantly in scrapes, endlessly making damaging headlines, and often getting teammates' noses out of joint in a manner that couldn't always be blamed on Joe the Cameraman, his long-time Australian captain Steve Waugh had his struggles along the way with Warne. But drop him, get rid of him from out of the equation?
When he had more talent in his spinning fingers than most other wannabes displayed in their entire careers?
Never. Yes, Waugh was instrumental in dropping Warne once – in the West Indies in 1999 – but that was more a matter of demonstrating that Waugh was the one running the show, not the spinner winner, and Warne came back stronger than ever.
What an extraordinary loss he would have been for Australian cricket if, like Strauss, the leading Australian official had ever publicly black-banned him.
It has to be obvious, thus, that England cricket has blown it on this'un. Any bloke that can score a triple-century like Pietersen – he was at 351 when they turned the lights off – has to be in the national team, if not necessarily on everyone's Christmas Card list.
And whatever Strauss says, it is England captain Alastair Cook who must begin building bridges.
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