TOM EATON | Facing Ntini at full tilt is something for the pros, not us mere mortals

On Tuesday, Proteas skipper Temba Bavuma took a gentle jab at his Springbok counterpart after a video emerged of Siya Kolisi playing two fairly, er, agricultural shots during an indoor knockabout game of cricket.

“Leader,” tweeted Bavuma, “forget those batting tips from Lungi Ngidi, sukum’mamela (don’t listen to him),” before wishing Kolisi well with the game against the All Blacks.

You can watch the video here, in which Kolisi tries to smash two lively yorkers, missing the first and being cleaned up by the second.

As a former cricket writer, I note that Kolisi’s initial movement seems to be back and away, which will always make it difficult for him to keep his head over off stump and thereby judge the line and length of the onrushing tennis ball.

His stance, likewise, is a tad closed, forcing him to jump into a more open position as the ball arrives and thereby over-complicating his movements just at the moment he should be keeping his head still. This closed stance also makes it more difficult to hit the ball through the off side, though in this instance I would suggest that what really cost the Bok skipper was his decision to try to hit yorkers on leg stump through extra cover.

As a fantastically crap cricket player, however, I also note that Kolisi is infinitely stronger, faster, more co-ordinated and generally sportier than me, which means my initial trigger movement should be to pause for a moment and try to remember just how astonishingly gifted these athletes are, and perhaps temper my criticisms accordingly.

Back when I was writing about cricket, I always felt it was a bit like being a theatre or film critic. Yes, one knew a fair amount about the game and had a clever turn of phrase (essential if you’re going to say “They hit a ball with a plank” over and over again for 10 years), but writing about it and critiquing it didn’t mean one could do it.

That was never clearer to me than on the day I stood behind a net in which Makhaya Ntini was bowling.

Standing there, watching him whip through deliveries over off stump at 140km/h, hearing that terrifying sput-thwack of the ball hitting the pitch and slamming into the net, I understood how good he was.

Like many South African journalists, I’d lamented his limitations: no outswinger; a wide angle of delivery that made LBWs less likely; not quite fast enough to be physically threatening.

It was all fair criticism, but only because he played at the ultra-elite level. Standing there, watching him whip through deliveries over off stump at 140km/h, hearing that terrifying sput-thwack of the ball hitting the pitch and slamming into the net, I understood just how badly I would be injured if I walked into that net and picked up a bat. I understood how good he was and how good the batters who faced him were, not just because they could react fast enough to score off him, but because they could stand there without soiling themselves.

Watching that video of Kolisi, and being subtly encouraged to take Bavuma’s side and to giggle at the Bok captain’s apparent lack of skill, I was reminded of how easily we sports fans lose touch with the physical reality of elite sport, imagining ourselves to be somehow worthy of disparaging skills we wouldn’t attain in a lifetime of trying.

Of course, we are entitled to be upset when our stars have a bad day or season, and play at a level that is merely dazzlingly advanced rather than supernaturally good.

But I think it would help all of us, and perhaps the stars too, to remember that we are goldfish offering opinions to Orcas on how best to kill Great Whites.

As for me, well, if I practise really hard and watch the ball like hell, perhaps one day I’ll be a fraction of the cricketer Siya Kolisi is ...