The Iconoclast

“I don’t believe there is anything I love more than watching [Gaelic] football. I’m addicted, totally addicted to the game. Sure I’m stuck in the b****y thing for the last 70-odd years so I’m afraid I’ll keep at it now until I go into the grave.

“I’d like to be on the sideline or in the stand watching and drop dead – that’s the way I’d like it to happen. I’d be quite happy if that happened.” – Gaelic Football legend Mick O’Dwyer who, after an illustrious playing and management career, continued to be involved in the game as he moved into his ninth decade, coaching the under-14’s team at his local club to a divisional title at the age of eighty-one.

 

Sun dapples the far reaches of the outfield as the rays filter through the leaves and branches of the surrounding trees. The vision of summer is a little illusory though as a keen breeze takes the edge of the late afternoon heat providing an ambience of late spring or early autumn. From the far end of the ground a young pace bowler chunters in and lands a delivery into what many would decree as the perfect spot. The ball caresses the surface and moves slightly, taking the edge of the outstretched bat before thudding into the waiting gauntlets of the wicket-keeper. The bowler roars with delight and charges across the square toward his equally ecstatic team-mates offering high fives and congratulations.

For the dismissed batsman the scene is all too familiar. Today’s contest may be just a run of the mill ECB Premier League contest but when one’s cricketing curriculum vitae includes a near twenty-year career with three first-class counties and a smattering of international appearances then the analogy of a big fish in a small pond looms large. At forty-five years of age the light of enthusiasm continues to burn brightly though:

“Most of my peers retired in their mid to late thirties. A couple of the more famous characters managed to get jobs in the media; either TV or with a newspaper whilst most had to find other careers” he outlines. “But almost all of them gave up playing the game. But I still had a passion to play. I knew that I no longer had what it took to play first-class cricket any more but a minor county approached me and I was most willing to play for them for a few summers. It was a different experience but I still enjoyed playing the game.

“People thought I was a bit daft. They’d want to know why I wanted to carry on playing at a lower level. I suppose I’m just a bit different from everyone else. The desire to play didn’t seem to diminish once I retired from first-class cricket. Strangely enough, I found I was enjoying the game more once I dropped down to minor counties level, the lower stresses than at first class level meant that I could just concentrate on my game. It’s been the same now that I am playing at ECB Premier League level.”

The experience of this particular cricketer puts into perspective the norm of professional players retiring from the highest levels of the game and directly replacing bat, pads and ball with the comfortable seat of the commentary box or the analytical eye of the media realm. Less fortunate, lower profile players either pursue coaching roles or different careers altogether. Either way most erstwhile professional players seem to give up actually playing the game once their time at the top has expired. For some sports such a decision would be obvious but other sports lend the opportunity to continue playing, albeit at lower levels, even when a player has moved into middle age. The notion prompts a question or two: do players lose their love of playing the game quicker when they perform at the highest levels? Is it simply a case that bread and water is no longer as palatable once one has been used to champagne and caviar? Only each individual player can provide a definitive answer but very few players seem to continue playing regular cricket once their first-class careers are over. The big fish in a small pond scenario certainly would not prove alluring to many. But for some the love of the game perhaps wins out over any personal pride. The aforementioned Mick O’Dwyer played and coached Gaelic Football at the highest level, winning many accolades and titles but still possessed something inside that drove him to coach one of his club’s junior teams. Mixing it with players that will never even come close to the heights of his careers. Some would argue that they couldn’t ‘slum it’ down in the lowest rungs of the hierarchy but O’Dwyer’s passion and zeal for his chosen sport and his undoubted humility are remarkable and refreshing.

O’Dwyer’s ethos and drive is similar to the aforementioned batsman. Any inbuilt desire to keep playing does possess potentially inherent issues though: “I can appreciate that playing at Premier League level means that bowlers probably get a bit more joy from taking my wicket. There’s obviously plenty of currency and kudos in claiming the scalp of a former international player. And there’s plenty of comments during the season as well, but I wasn’t at all surprised that that’s the case. If it was a former international bowler bowling at me then I’d take great relish in claiming a few boundaries. Then again I’m getting to the point where I’m now old enough that some of the younger players in the division can’t remember, or probably weren’t even born, my professional career! Maybe any issues we have with dropping down a level or two are those that we perceive rather than anything concrete.”

“At some point I will have to decide whether I want to drop any further though, particularly now that the body isn’t as willing as it was. Once the bones start to ache too much then that may be the time to call it a day rather than being too concerned with no longer being able to turn out for the first XI. I’m comfortable with that; age and desire being the deciding factors as to how long I continue playing rather than personal pride and my ego.”

 

Convention dictates that professional cricketers, upon the advent of their retirement, venture down a different avenue in terms of employment. Some stay within the game itself, others begin a completely different career or resume one that may have been sidelined due to the demands of professional sport. It seems that very few continue playing the game itself though, even if that would be at no higher than recreational level. One ponders whether the ever increasing and voracious demands of the professional game affect one’s love of simply playing the game. Most players will have progressed through the youth ranks and the Premier Leagues before reaching the professional echelon but a return to the higher levels of the amateur game appears a road less travelled. Perhaps the journey to the professional game is very much a Rubicon moment; once across that divide there can be no going back. For a handful though the sheer love of the game burns brightly and a return journey proves particularly palatable and rewarding. In many respects such occurrences are refreshing and intriguing, almost Corinthian. In an age when cricket continually homogenises one cannot help but enjoy such moments of individualism.