George Dockrell's performance against Netherlands was just a bad day at the office
ICC World T20 Qualifier – Second Semi Final. July 25th, 2015. Ireland v. Netherlands. Ireland are the home side. Netherlands are the visitors. But they are also the favourites. The favourites to progress to the final. The favourites to win the competition.
The winner faces Scotland in the final. Ireland would like that. If Scotland didn’t win the final, the other team would. To be the other team, Ireland would like that. The winner would also get a ticket to India for the ICC World T20 in 2016. Ireland would certainly like that.
But...nothing. It’s not going to happen for them. And they are home. In Dublin. Malahide. The match ends. Ireland have lost. The locals don’t seem to mind. It’s bad, but it’s not the end of the world. They will move on. Ireland will, hopefully, move on as well.
But George Dockrell was the hometown kid. He’s from Dublin. It was his 23rd birthday three days previously. Getting beaten at home, getting dumped out of the tournament. Ireland wouldn’t like that.
George Dockrell wouldn’t like that.
It was partly due to him, you know. The defeat.
A large part.
A one-off performance
He’s a left-arm spinner. Orthodox spin. If he was right handed, he wouldn’t have a job, he says. So he bowled. The full four overs. His match analysis? 4-0-35-0. Economy of 8.75. The worst figures in the match, the worst for Ireland.
Is he a bad spinner? No, he’s a good spinner. A great spinner. A great player.
Is this a fair mark of his performance? No, it’s not. He just had a bad day. It happens. It happens to everyone. But for him, it had to be today in the semi-finals. With a place in the final at stake.
He’s the coolest player in cricket today. Ice cold. The ice man. Unruffled. Often sports a pair of sunglasses. A neat pair. Dark, and sleek. They don’t shine. They’re very dark. They hide his eyes, protect his mystique. He carries an air of detachment with him. Disconnect. As though the world around him doesn’t matter. As though there are no fielders. No umpire. No non-striker. No wicketkeeper. The eyes of the fans are on him, and only him. The eyes of the viewers at home, the eyes of the entire world.
He draws eyeballs towards him. He’s magnetic. He has a presence about him. Time seems to slow when he bowls. It slows down and then some. You can see him, every last bit of him.
The drops of sweat on his brow. You can even count them. The pulse in his temple. The faint stubble on his cheeks. It has been a couple of days since he last shaved. Those lips pursed in concentration. And his eyes, which we cannot see, blocked by the imposing spectre of black. Which makes us want to see them even more. The forbidden fruit, and all that.
His right arm at an angle, propping up his left, the ball sandwiched between them His right foot hitting the ground in the run-up. His left foot hitting the ground in the run-up. His little skip before he plants his foot into the ground behind the white line. The bowling crease. Sometimes the foot is right on the line. Sometimes most of it is behind the line. Sometimes most of it is in front of it. Other times, it’s just right.
Then his arm goes up. And comes down. It swings, it bends. Then it straightens. The arm comes down at an angle. Then the ball is released. It is flying through the air with grace. It is also grotesque. Simultaneously. At the same time. The yin and yang of George Dockrell’s bowling. The beauty and the beast.
And then the batsman swings wildly. This, it must be noted, is the first time Dockrell’s willing audience acknowledge the presence of another individual on the pitch. It is also the only time. And the moment is all-too-brief. For his swing is wild. It is incoherent. It is desperate. It lacks clarity, it lacks focus.
And the ball smashes into the stumps. The bails go flying. And slowly, realisation dawns on the batsman. He is out, he has been bowled. He must go back to the pavilion. Not that anybody cares.
Dockrell punches the air. He’s done it again. He’s got his wicket.
But not today. Today, the 25th of July.
Today he is part of an unchanged Ireland side asked to bat first by the Netherlands.
He looks absolutely fabulous today. Ireland sport a beautiful dark kit that is topped off by a delicate neon shade. As usual, Dockrell wears it the best. With the number 50 on his back. His sleeves are green. He wears them all the way. And in doing so, gives a whole new meaning to the term ‘Greensleeves’. An arm extended into the backwoods of history, a turn of the forefinger into the future.
Where it went wrong?
Normally, he wouldn’t get to bat. But today he does. An ominous sign.
Actually does okay in the circumstances. A blink-and-you’ll-miss-it cameo. But he does get a moment. A loose ball in the last over is ferociously slammed towards the midwicket boundary. It clears the rope. Ireland put on 128 runs from 20 overs. 129 for the Netherlands to win.
Then Ireland bowl. Dockrell bowls. His first over is good. Bowls quite short, and only gives away 3 runs. So far, so good.
Then he bowls his second over. This is where it goes bad.
2.2 Is summarily smashed for six, a brutal slog sweep that reaches the fence with ease.
2.3 Outside off, it jumps up a bit and is lashed at ineptly. No run
2.4 More of a medium length. Bowls faster, too. No luck. Helped on its way to the boundary.
That was the sum of it.
Still, he can respond. And he does.
Third over – much better.
3.2 Medium length, arm ball, bad line, wide. This is a theme. He’s struggled with the line all day. No matter. Wipe hand. Try again.
He cleans up the rest of the over. Mixes up his lengths cleverly. Even bowls outside off. The Dutch batsmen are swiping aimlessly at the fly that is the ball out of Dockrell’s hand. They nudge him around for singles. Take four from the over, plus the wide. They can’t hit him out of the park.
He comes back for his fourth. He currently reads 3-0-19-0. Pretty good.
The Dutch are 98/4, and need 31 runs from 24 balls. The pre match favourites aren’t quite out of the woods yet. And the pre match underdogs could conceivably steal this one away.
This is the moving over. Dockrell nails this, Netherlands are in trouble. He doesn’t, the game is back in their favour.
4.2 O’ Dowd comes down the track and smashes Dockrell over long on. Apparently, that’s where the bowler’s father is sitting. Ouch.
4.5 Shorter, straighter. Clipped up in the air, but goes for four. It’s not going to happen for him.
4.6 Fuller, botches his sweep again, but got some height, and this one goes for four as well. You’ve done it now.
Dockrell has blown this over. Badly. Netherlands now need 15 off 18. Victory is close. They can smell it. They can touch it. They can almost taste it.
Kevin O’ Brien has bowled well today (3/26), but even he cannot stop the Dutch. They go into the final and Ireland go back to the drawing board.
The Irish captain, William Porterfield, acknowledges the worth of the bowlers so far. Their batsmen haven’t scored enough. But the bowlers could have certainly forced something, especially given the Netherlands weren’t exactly displaying their latent Viv Richards tendencies before Dockrell’s last over.
Dockrell’s recent form has been impressive. This day should not be held against him. The team didn’t play particularly well.
There will be a new winner of this tournament. And Dockrell must put it behind him and forge ahead. Go back to playing with Somerset. Go back to ripping the county division to shreds.
He can, and he will. He’s good enough.