The young all-rounder's first Test hundred could define his career and shape the future of the England team
For Ben Stokes the comparisons will be inevitable. It goes with the territory. Even before Ian Botham was playing, it seems, they were looking for the next Ian Botham. His Beefiness himself was the next Tony Greig, the baton handed over in Greig's antepenultimate game at Nottingham in July 1977, although no one would have had an inkling of the degree of what was to follow.
Since then, in their quest to become the next king, many have tried to pull Excalibur from the stone, but few have come closer than a double hernia in the effort. Derek Pringle, David Capel, Craig White (who could bowl fast and scored a Test hundred), Chris Lewis, troubled and in prison now. Poor Ben Hollioake might have been. Only Andrew Flintoff, who in the course of a decade rampaged his way to 3,845 runs, with five centuries, and 226 wickets, pushes towards the mark, and even his batting and bowling averages, of 31.77 and 32.78 respectively, don't quite fulfil the criterion of the very best where batting average is expected to exceed that of bowling.
The truth is that no one will ever be the next Botham, any more than they will be the next Imran Khan, Jacques Kallis, Garry Sobers or Keith Miller. But the young man, as he has shown in his first two Test matches, may prove to be the first Ben Stokes, which is an altogether better thing with which to be regarded.
In Adelaide, on his debut, he was lbw not to his first ball but the first he received from Mitchell Johnson, but then made a more convincing 28 in the second innings. He bowled a naive first spell, in which he was unable to throw his length further up and bowl to the field as set appropriately for the conditions. But even then he drew praise for the way in which he approached his task – abrasively giving as good as he got in any confrontation – and the pace at which he delivered. He might have got a wicket too – and Brad Haddin at that, an invaluable one in this series – but he was shown to have overstepped, a criminal offence when bowling but one which could, and should, have been averted if the umpires had called any of the numerous no balls sent down previous to that.
It was a promising debut, born out of the need to fit two spinners into a team that could not afford to revert to the template used in India of only two pace bowlers as a counterpoint. Perhaps though, it gave a glimpse into the future, of what might just be possible. Stokes had already been on the radar for a while as someone who might well become part of the new England, his place on tour a part of that succession planning.
Suddenly there were options for England. His Adelaide performance, most particularly the manner in which he threw himself into the fray, was sufficient to convince Andy Flower and Alastair Cook, that it should be he, rather than Gary Ballance or Jonny Bairstow, who should continue at number six, his bowling deemed to be invaluable in the expected furnace of 40-plus degrees.
He bowled better in Perth, curbing, for the most part, a natural instinct in any pace bowler new to the Waca to bowl too short, and using the bouncer sparingly and to effect. Even Michael Clarke was neck-and-cropped in the second innings.
But then came the 257 minutes at the crease that may define his career, the time when he stepped up to the mark in as harsh an environment as ever he will meet. The Australians did him no favours in their drive to secure the Ashes. He was harried and chivvied, abused, bounced, and rattled. All of it was treated with indifference.
He played pleasingly straight, in defence (bowlers like it least when defensive shots come back to them because it shows the full face of the bat) and front-foot attack, so much so that there was a constant danger that a deflection could run out his partner. When he had 98, yet another straight drive hit the umpire Marais Erasmus that might have deprived him of three figures. He pulled the short ball too, down and more effectively than had ever been managed by the team in Adelaide, and swayed inside the bouncer, watching the ball all the way until certain of its trajectory.
Most impressively though, he managed to ignore the cavernous cracks in the pitch that looked dangerous but which in reality offered little threat because of the extravagant movement. His capacity to play the line of the ball rather than go chasing movement was also outstanding.
Perhaps as impressive as anything was the manner in which he treated Nathan Lyon. England players, almost by upbringing, are reluctant to vacate the crease in pursuit of the spinner: just another way to get out, they will tell themselves. To do so, a batsman needs to be confident, and the purpose positive. Kevin Pietersen does so, as does Ian Bell. But neither of them hurled into the uncharted territory that Stokes managed, whence he could almost shake hands with the bowler. Lyon was duly deposited beyond the boundary and into the Prindiville Stand.
And gradually, as he and Bell compiled their century stand, the spell was broken. These bowlers were tiring in the heat (who would not?) but the pair were showing they could be played, and with confidence. How did he sleep on that fourth evening knowing that a century was only 28 runs away? He says surprisingly well. Was he even thinking that an unlikely England victory was on the cards? How telling was the moment when he pulled Johnson to the fine leg boundary to reach his century? It might have brought extravagant celebrations, but instead came little more than a fist pump, brief raising of arms and an acknowledgement of the applause that rang round the ground, from friend and foe alike. Maybe it was slightly self-conscious. More likely it was saying you ain't seen nothing yet. Reported by guardian.co.uk 7 hours ago.
For Ben Stokes the comparisons will be inevitable. It goes with the territory. Even before Ian Botham was playing, it seems, they were looking for the next Ian Botham. His Beefiness himself was the next Tony Greig, the baton handed over in Greig's antepenultimate game at Nottingham in July 1977, although no one would have had an inkling of the degree of what was to follow.
Since then, in their quest to become the next king, many have tried to pull Excalibur from the stone, but few have come closer than a double hernia in the effort. Derek Pringle, David Capel, Craig White (who could bowl fast and scored a Test hundred), Chris Lewis, troubled and in prison now. Poor Ben Hollioake might have been. Only Andrew Flintoff, who in the course of a decade rampaged his way to 3,845 runs, with five centuries, and 226 wickets, pushes towards the mark, and even his batting and bowling averages, of 31.77 and 32.78 respectively, don't quite fulfil the criterion of the very best where batting average is expected to exceed that of bowling.
The truth is that no one will ever be the next Botham, any more than they will be the next Imran Khan, Jacques Kallis, Garry Sobers or Keith Miller. But the young man, as he has shown in his first two Test matches, may prove to be the first Ben Stokes, which is an altogether better thing with which to be regarded.
In Adelaide, on his debut, he was lbw not to his first ball but the first he received from Mitchell Johnson, but then made a more convincing 28 in the second innings. He bowled a naive first spell, in which he was unable to throw his length further up and bowl to the field as set appropriately for the conditions. But even then he drew praise for the way in which he approached his task – abrasively giving as good as he got in any confrontation – and the pace at which he delivered. He might have got a wicket too – and Brad Haddin at that, an invaluable one in this series – but he was shown to have overstepped, a criminal offence when bowling but one which could, and should, have been averted if the umpires had called any of the numerous no balls sent down previous to that.
It was a promising debut, born out of the need to fit two spinners into a team that could not afford to revert to the template used in India of only two pace bowlers as a counterpoint. Perhaps though, it gave a glimpse into the future, of what might just be possible. Stokes had already been on the radar for a while as someone who might well become part of the new England, his place on tour a part of that succession planning.
Suddenly there were options for England. His Adelaide performance, most particularly the manner in which he threw himself into the fray, was sufficient to convince Andy Flower and Alastair Cook, that it should be he, rather than Gary Ballance or Jonny Bairstow, who should continue at number six, his bowling deemed to be invaluable in the expected furnace of 40-plus degrees.
He bowled better in Perth, curbing, for the most part, a natural instinct in any pace bowler new to the Waca to bowl too short, and using the bouncer sparingly and to effect. Even Michael Clarke was neck-and-cropped in the second innings.
But then came the 257 minutes at the crease that may define his career, the time when he stepped up to the mark in as harsh an environment as ever he will meet. The Australians did him no favours in their drive to secure the Ashes. He was harried and chivvied, abused, bounced, and rattled. All of it was treated with indifference.
He played pleasingly straight, in defence (bowlers like it least when defensive shots come back to them because it shows the full face of the bat) and front-foot attack, so much so that there was a constant danger that a deflection could run out his partner. When he had 98, yet another straight drive hit the umpire Marais Erasmus that might have deprived him of three figures. He pulled the short ball too, down and more effectively than had ever been managed by the team in Adelaide, and swayed inside the bouncer, watching the ball all the way until certain of its trajectory.
Most impressively though, he managed to ignore the cavernous cracks in the pitch that looked dangerous but which in reality offered little threat because of the extravagant movement. His capacity to play the line of the ball rather than go chasing movement was also outstanding.
Perhaps as impressive as anything was the manner in which he treated Nathan Lyon. England players, almost by upbringing, are reluctant to vacate the crease in pursuit of the spinner: just another way to get out, they will tell themselves. To do so, a batsman needs to be confident, and the purpose positive. Kevin Pietersen does so, as does Ian Bell. But neither of them hurled into the uncharted territory that Stokes managed, whence he could almost shake hands with the bowler. Lyon was duly deposited beyond the boundary and into the Prindiville Stand.
And gradually, as he and Bell compiled their century stand, the spell was broken. These bowlers were tiring in the heat (who would not?) but the pair were showing they could be played, and with confidence. How did he sleep on that fourth evening knowing that a century was only 28 runs away? He says surprisingly well. Was he even thinking that an unlikely England victory was on the cards? How telling was the moment when he pulled Johnson to the fine leg boundary to reach his century? It might have brought extravagant celebrations, but instead came little more than a fist pump, brief raising of arms and an acknowledgement of the applause that rang round the ground, from friend and foe alike. Maybe it was slightly self-conscious. More likely it was saying you ain't seen nothing yet. Reported by guardian.co.uk 7 hours ago.