Anderson - Bowl. Sleep. Repeat.: Inside the World of Englands Greatest-Ever Bowler

For Daniella, Lola and Ruby

Select one of the chapters from the and you will be taken straight to that chapter.

Look out for linked text (which is in blue) throughout the ebook that you can select to help you navigate between related sections.

You can double tap images to increase their size. To return to the original view, just tap the cross in the top left-hand corner of the screen.

We set it, we bowl to it and we take the wickets.

Theyd be lost without us.

A Bowler in a Batsmans World

I ts not easy being a fast bowler. Some people might think it is, but its not. The beauty of cricket, it is regularly observed, is that it allows every type of person to exist within it; all shapes and sizes put into a jigsaw puzzle of a team in a ceaseless tug-of-war with one another. Id be prepared, in part, to agree. But it becomes problematic when you decide that your particular piece in the puzzle is going to be in the shape of the guy or girl who bowls fast.

Fast bowlers are the only people ever expected to do anything remotely close to physical exertion on a cricket pitch. There are batsmen who spend their time waiting for a ball to arrive. They wait. They watch. They occasionally hit. When not performing their prime purpose of duty, they prefer to spend their time in the field, having a chat, readjusting their caps, suddenly with all kinds of opinions and expertise on how to bowl. That or staring into middle distance in the dressing room trying to Jedi mind-trick their failings outside off stump from their DNA.

Wicketkeepers crouch, stand, catch. Mainly, though, they talk. They talk a lot. Many of them consider their most pertinent contribution to the game as having five days of stand-up material to keep everyone entertained and engaged, not least the viewers at home through the stump mics, rather than any kind of serious physical conditioning.

Even spinners dont know how easy they have it. They lollop up in a kind of laconic skip that you dont see anywhere else in life. If we are going to talk in real terms, it could never really be considered running; it could barely be considered exercise.

Then theres us.

When a fast bowler approaches the crease, he or she is essentially short-sprinting toward it. When we land, there is on average seven times our body weight going through our front foot. We are then expected to execute a complex minutiae of technical unravelling, before delivering the leather thing were shuttling with us toward the batsman at the speed of a train. Then, whatever the consequences of that particular act, we have to do it again. Immediately. And again. And again. Test matches last five days. Thats a lot of doing that. If we were at war in ancient times, wed be the boulder carriers. But only if the boulder carriers were expected to be the generals, too. Were buying the tools, building the studio and making the record. Were writing the script, directing the film, making the tea and then putting someone elses name on the credits.

We put in so much effort that the laws of the game must be heavily weighted in our favour, I hear you ask?

Thats where the injustice really starts to sting. Every single conceivable law in cricket is devised so that it suits the batsman. If there is any doubt, any doubt at all, the batsman will always receive the benefit.

Given that youre running so far, surely theres some leniency on where you land when you bowl, at least?

No. If youre a tenth of an inch over, you have to bowl the ball again, and all your work is not only considered void but actively punished, too. Ive had wickets of world-class batsmen taken off me. World-class batsmen that you dont get second chances with because of it.

Well, surely, as a result, cricket has created an understanding environment in which fast bowlers are able to vent their frustration?

Nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, if you show any kind of dissent toward an umpire or understandable anger toward a batsman, you are regularly fined slices of your match fee. I remember, for example, very lightly brushing a batsmans shoulder in a one-day international. I was fined. They said, The normally mild-mannered Anderson was solely to blame for the incident. Even if I was, I think they could have spared me that. Another time, an umpire, who will remain nameless, got a decision totally wrong in an international. I think I might have very politely enquired how he could have made such an error of judgement. I was fined again.

Its not just at international level. Ive experienced it since playing at clubs and school. I remember hitting someone on the pads in an under-17s game for Burnley. It was stone dead. I appealed. The umpire, to this day and to my total amazement, gave it not out. En route diligently back to my mark, I asked him why. I just didnt see it, was his answer. I was being punished for the fact that either a) it was too fast or b) he wasnt looking. I should have known then that it was a sign of things to come. Its happened ever since. You ask out of genuine curiosity, Why wasnt that out? Ive had years of Its just not out, mate. Thats akin to answering a question with Because.

OK, fine, but at least all fast bowlers will have each others backs, then, even if theyre on the other team?

Again, wrong. When youre facing an opposition fast bowler, if anything, theyre likely to bowl quicker and will take greater satisfaction from hitting you as you brace for impact or duck for cover. Its lawless out there. Before helmets, there used to be a kind of unwritten fast bowlers law. The tailender would borderline run for cover and the bowler would aim at the stumps. Job done. Nobody gets hurt. These days, with the evolution of protective gear, bringing more foolish bravery on our part with the bat, that sort of understood pact has gone out of the window. I was batting with Alastair Cook in the West Indies years ago. Cooky is potentially the greatest English batsman ever to have played the game. Fidel Edwards was running in and bowling 90-miles-an-hour rockets at me and 80-miles-an-hour dobblers at Cooky. Theres no justice. I dont know why Fidel was prioritizing his efforts, but I was seething at the other end, thinking to myself, No wonder Cookys unbeaten on a hundred for the umpteenth time. He was dishing it up on a length to him and trying to knock me out. I cant win. Cooky, very admirably for a batsman, even acknowledged it and was trying to get me off strike, if purely out of guilt.

Ive even had it with team-mates. Stuart Broad, whom Ive spent over a decade bowling in tandem with for England, and whom I like to think of as an off-field friend and an on-field ally, did it to me very recently. I was pitched against him in a county game, Notts vs Lancs. Weve rarely played against each other, having been the England opening-ball partnership for so long. Without it being said, I felt it was a given that wed both bowl full at each other, nothing short or dangerous, you know, what with life being hard enough for both of us as it is. He bowled me a handful of full balls and then one right at my throat, which I gloved to slip. I thought that was very interesting, that he felt the need to bounce me. I thought, right, next innings hes getting it. Fortunately for him, by the time he came out to bat, the ball was swinging, so I was pitching the ball up. He edged me to first slip. Of course, first slip dropped it. This is the life of a fast bowler, you show some mercy and thats the hand karma deals you. Stuart had the audacity to hit me for four through extra cover next ball. I saw red. I bounced him. I had to. Theres only so much you can put up with. Anyway, hed made his bed the innings before. Well, at least cricket has been going long enough and evolved into the modern world sufficiently that the gear has been developed to offer no distraction?