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The original was posted on /r/hobbydrama by /u/RemnantEvil on 2025-01-15 02:52:49+00:00.
You might recognise me from weekly threads, or my previous Hobby History on a small country within a sport that is followed by about a billion people, but only really played in a dozen countries.
Last time, I covered the two much shameful incidents in Australian cricketing history – the underarm bowling incident, and Sandpapergate – as well as singing praises for Australia’s history as a juggernaut in the sport. This time, we’re going on a traipse through some esoteric aspects of the sport that people might not know about, simply because it’s very easy to bounce off cricket’s rules.
The odd.
There is a strange relationship in cricket between umpires and players, particularly captains. Unlike many sports, the umpires are as much a part of the game as the players. Here are just some aspects of this odd relationship:
- The fielding team actually has to “appeal” for a decision, usually by all turning and shouting at the relevant empire. There are two umpires and they both rotate locations. One stands at the bowler’s end, directly behind the wicket. The other stands at “square leg”, which is at a 90-degree angle from the pitch and basically the best spot to just stare at the batter’s ass. (And in situations where there’s a leftie batter and a rightie, the square-leg umpire must jog across the pitch so that he’s always on their leg side, i.e. looking at their ass.)
- For a stumping or a run-out at the striker’s end, the fielders appeal to square leg – he’s got the view of the line the batter must cross to be safe, and he’ll call for a video review if he’s unsure. Unless it’s super obvious, given that run-outs can be down to centimetres, he’ll often refer to the “Third umpire” – an umpire who monitors the video review.
- For an LBW decision (that is, hitting the batter’s pad before the bat, and looks like it would carry through to hit the wicket were it not for the batter being the way), the fielders appeal to the umpire at the bowling end.
- Even if the umpire thinks something is clearly an LBW, if nobody actually appeals, the game continues and he keeps his damn mouth shut.
- You don’t really need to appeal for an obvious wicket like a catch or bowling someone out. You might need to appeal if it’s a close thing, such as if it’s unclear if the ball “nicked” the edge of the bat.
- Modern cricket utilizes a Decision Review System (DRS), introduced in the late ‘00s. It allows the fielding side to sort of appeal to the Supreme Court if they think someone was out but the on-field umpire gives them not out. It also allows the batting side to appeal likewise if they were given out but they feel it was a mistake. You can appeal as many times per innings as you like until you reach the limit of unsuccessful reviews – three per Test match innings, two per ODI or T20 innings.
- Common uses of the DRS are when you’re sure that the ball hit the pad before the bat, which would be potentially an LBW, or when you think the ball catches the faintest edge of the bat before being caught by the keeper. And the flip side of both these times is when the batter disagrees.
- If you burn your three unsuccessful appeals in an innings, you run the risk of having an obvious umpire error stand because you can no longer appeal it. In the third Test of the 2019 Ashes, keeper-captain Tim Paine “burned” their third review on a very optimistic call. An over later, a plum LBW was given not out – had it been reviewed, it would have been out, and Australia would have won by a single run.
There are several boxes that are ticked to confirm that something would be out. It has to land a certain distance from the wicket (too short and it might bounce over), it has to be in line with the wicket, and the line of the ball’s path, when continued, needs to hit the wicket. The good/bad thing about DRS is that even if a team does not use it, the broadcaster can still run the DRS and show the audience if a review would have been successful or not.
Paine copped heavy criticism for using the third review, and it perhaps would have changed the match’s outcome. Some noted that it was the downside to having a keeper as the captain, as the captain initiates reviews (with a 15-second time limit, so brief consultation with the bowler or concerned fielders), and keepers are notorious for thinking that everything is out. Keepers are typically the first and loudest appealers.
- Appeals initially started with “How is that?” shouted at the umpire, and very quickly degenerated into garbled “Howzat?”
- A team can actually withdraw an appeal – keep this in mind. They might decide for whatever reason to overrule the umpire and let the batter keep his wicket.
- A batter who is clearly out is under no obligation to start to leave until the umpire gives him out. If nobody appeals, or if the appeal is rejected, the batter is safe. No matter how much the other team celebrates, until the umpire indicates a wicket with a single raised finger in the air, the batter is considered safe.
- The logical corollary of this is that the batter is actually under no obligation to abide by a not-out decision either…
The good.
Adam Gilchrist took over the vaunted job of wicketkeeper from the legend Ian Healy, and I mentioned both men in my previous post. Gilchrist is a legend in his own right – the second most dismissals in Test cricket history, second most catches in his Test career, fifth most stumpings in his career, third most sixes in Test cricket. He averaged 47 with the bat and had a reputation as a steady pair of hands who could bat long and bat well when the team needed it. He was present in a World Cup winning side, and played in three winning Ashes sides. He scored the fourth-fastest Test century, knocking it out in only 57 balls faced – the record is just 54 balls.
The current holder of that last record is Brendon McCullum, formerly from New Zealand, who was also a keeper-captain. If that name sounds familiar from other posts of mine, it is the Baz – the one who brought the cult of Bazball to England as a way to try and get that team competitive again.
He’s also the coat who was critical of Alex Carey stumping Jonny Bairstow in the Ashes for wandering out of his crease and felt that Australia should have followed another of those rules and withdrawn the appeal, to let Bairstow continue batting despite being given out.
Back to Gilchrist. Among all his records and his reputation as a player (his nickname was Gilly, but he also had the moniker “Churchy” after a young English fan mistakenly called him Eric Gilchurch), Gilchrist was also known as a walker.
Not the kind that bites you, a walker is a gentleman of esteem and confidence. The walker is a rare breed, and perhaps that’s not a bad thing. The walker is the one who looks at the long list of caveats about umpires and appeals, and decides that this line in particular is tasty:
- The batter is actually under no obligation to abide by a not-out decision either…
His most famous incident is, of all things, the freakin’ 2003 ODI World Cup semifinal. Aravinda de Silva, a famous player in his own right, is handed the ball as Sri Lanka try to unseat one of the Australian openers, who by now have put 30 on the board from only five overs. A delivery swings in low, Gilchrist gets bat on it, the ball hits his pad and goes skyward to be caught. However, the umpire is unmoved, believing the ball had not contacted bat. De Silva and the Sri Lankans are crestfallen – it is at least five years before DRS is introduced, and they have no chance for further appeal.
Gilchrist, nevertheless, starts to walk. With some trepidation and perhaps confusion, the Sri Lankans start to celebrate. The umpire has no choice – the batter is saying through his action, “No, you’re wrong and I’m out.” He cannot be forced to bat, so the wicket stands.
In his book Walking To Victory (very cheeky), Gilchrist writes:
“Of course, the guys back in the viewing room were a bit stunned at what I'd done. Flabbergasted, really, that I'd do it in a World Cup semi. While I sat there, thinking about it and being asked about it, I kept going back to the fact that, well, at the end of the day, I had been honest with myself.
“I felt it was time that players made a stand to take back responsibility for the game. I was at ease with that. The more I thought about it, the more settled I became with what I'd done. You did it for the right reasons.”
Worth noting that the captain of the Australian side, Ricky Ponting, disagreed. With his own reputation as a ruthless leader and player, when it came to the age-old struggle between the wolves of “Spirit of the game” and “Rules of the game”, Ponting fell on the rules side – if the umpire does not give you out, you’re not freakin’ out.
Gilchrist said that Ponting later sat down next to him (Ponting would bat after Gilchrist, but did not bat for long) and said, “Didn’t you see the umpire give you not out?” Gilchrist said, “Yeah, I did.” And in one telling of the story, Gilchrist claims Ponting’s reply was, “Wrong answer.”
The great.
I’m going to break my own rule and circle back to another aspect of these weird rules and good sportsmanship, but it necessitates not talking about Australia for a little bit.
In 2008, Paul...
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