Jonathan Trott: cricket with balls.

Around the time England was two wickets down in their second innings, on the second day, Trott busied himself with a batting drill.

He appeared behind the glass like some cricket wild cat, a caged tiger. Batting profile, exaggerated forward defence, straight drive, smooth, brisk movements of the bat. Repeat.

There was something about Trott that evening. There was a definite signal of intent, yes, but more importantly a joy of the game. A joy to be playing cricket, yet alert at the same time, to warm up, both in limb and mind.

Here was a player, who in spite of being a pro, appeared rooted to his cricket basics, not overawed by either situation or debut.

Then there was the back-foot swat through midwicket that Atherton likened to one of Inzi’s. The urgency to get to the hundred mark and not lurk in the nervous nineties. Here was a batsman who partnered all and sundry in both innings, largely unaffected by a tricky run-out, and the personalities around him.

Clearly Trott has in him a bit of the dogged determination of his captain. And when Trott reached three figures, you’d be forgiven for thinking Strauss was the centurion. But then Strauss knows all about scoring a century on debut.

Mother Trott wept tears of joy, and Papa Trott maintained a stoic interest in the cricket. We were at once connected to Trott’s world. It was intensely real, you could call it cricket with balls.


also blogs at Naked Cricket