Stumpers and Thumpers: Favourite Wicketkeepers

I don’t envy wicketkeepers their job. Wearing gloves and pads they have to be alert for every ball, sprinting to the stumps or flinging themselves to catch an edge or prevent byes. They must need knees of steel, or rather tungsten. And these days they are also expected to be top-class batsmen and expert sledgers. True all-rounders!

When I first followed cricket, probably the most recognisable ‘keepers were Alan Knott of Kent and England and Aussie Rod Marsh. Knott’s glovework was exemplary and his doughty rearguard batting at seven rescued many an innings. However, exciting he was not. In contrast, Marsh was an archetypal in-yer-face character who would fit in well with the modern fashions. Like Dennis Lillee, whose bowling provided a record 95 of his catches, his moustache was as legendary as his appetite for beer and colourful language. He could bat a bit, too and, given his many run-ins with English batsmen over the years, it was ironic that it was under his directorship of the ECB academy that a resurgent England side seized the Ashes in 2005.

There have been several excellent wicketkeepers in the ‘baggy green’ in my lifetime. Ian Healy was no mug but when he finally bowed out, his successor became one of the most celebrated of all time. Adam Gilchrist didn’t win his first Test cap until the age of 27 but it was his astounding hitting which quickly endeared him to cricket fans around the world. His arrival happily coincided with the launch of Twenty20, a perfect format for his batting. I saw him once in the pink kit of Middlesex, striking three boundaries in a short but sweet eight-ball innings against Essex. However, on the big occasions he was imperious, and they don’t come any bigger than the 2007 World Cup Final when in the green and gold Gilchrist plundered a remarkable 149 from a mere 104 deliveries.

The Aussie won three World Cups, scoring at least 50 in each. However, another of my faves, Kumar Sangakkara (left), never finished on the winning side. For all his impressive records as a batsman and wicketkeeper across all formats, what I loved about the Sri Lankan was the way he played. In particular, Sanga’s cover drives were things of beauty but he was a stylishly unfussy gloveman, too.

AB De Villiers has been a magician, able to conjure shots out of thin air but, when it comes to brilliant ‘keepers, there have been few superior to MS Dhoni. From mullet-head to silver fox, the maestro has been a dominant force in Indian cricket seemingly forever. In addition to his captaincy and smart work behind the stumps, Dhoni’s clever ‘finishing’ of an innings is legendary. I vividly recall watching Sky’s coverage of the 2011 World Cup climax when MS steered his side to victory with a typically stirring 91 not out. More memorable still was the raucous reception he received on his way to the crease from the India fans during their T20 encounter with England in Cardiff last July. Oh, and did I mention his economical spell of bowling at the same venue in the 2013 Champions Trophy semi? Is there anything that man can’t do?

The new global idol of limited-overs wicket-keeper/batsmen is Jos Buttler, about whom I have mixed feelings. I concede that his inventive strokeplay in ODIs and T20 is second to none but his place in my affections dropped through the floorboards in 2013 when he abandoned Somerset for Lancashire, ostensibly to boost his Test cricket credentials. As a supporter I felt betrayed. Jos had come through the county ranks for years and at Taunton I’d marvelled at his level-headed ‘keeping and extraordinary lofted extra-cover drives. As the future of Somerset he was my new favourite, and when he left, he forfeited that status.

I suppose his treachery could be in part excused by the fact that he wasn’t even the best wicket-keeper in Somerset. In the Championship, that position belonged to Craig Kieswetter. Another product of Millfield School, the South African had already established an international one-dayer career with his adopted England and a fervent following from the Taunton faithful and the ECB pushed Buttler into the transfer to a so-called ‘bigger’ county. Tragically, halfway through the following season, Kiesy’s helmet grille failed to do its job against a David Willey bouncer. The horrendous damage to his nose and eye socket brought his cricket career to a premature conclusion. Terribly sad for him, of course, but it also meant that Somerset had lost not one but two top-class ‘keeper/batsmen in under a year, a gaping hole they have yet to adequately fill.

During the Eighties and Nineties, I quite liked a number of less-renowned English glovemen, from Geoff Humpage and Keith Piper (both Warwickshire) to Richard Blakey (Yorkshire) and Trevor Gard (Somerset). I detested the mouthy England duo of Matt Prior and Paul Nixon but I still retain a modicum of affection for ‘Jack’ Russell. I’m not sure I ever saw his eyes. In my memory, his head consisted only of white floppy hat, shades and ‘tache! The idiosyncratic man of Stroud was far too often overlooked in favour of Alec Stewart but he never let England – or Gloucestershire – down.

As for my all-time favourite, well, my choice may seem surprising, decidedly left-field. One encouraging advance in recent years has been the professionalization of and consequent enhanced media attention towards women’s cricket. The days of Rachel Hayhoe-Flint in a crisply-laundered white skirt are long gone but mercifully the ladies’ game has yet to sink to the dubious moral depths of men’s cricket. A few years ago I was delighted by the spirit in which the T20 Ashes encounter at Cardiff was conducted. Through the medium of TV I was already more likely to recognise the likes of Charlotte Edwards, Meg Lanning and Anya Shrubsole than male internationals such as Jake Ball or Matt Wood. But one other female cricketer had appealed more than any other.

Like many of her colleagues, Sarah Taylor (left) announced herself on the global scene as a teenager and is now recognised as probably the best wicketkeeper/batter in the world. She looks the part, as tidy with the gloves as Knott or Russell ever were, and possesses an admirable array of strokes. However, for me, it’s her obvious love of playing that is outstanding. When, in 2016 and at her peak, she took a break from the sport because of overpowering anxiety issues, I was as stunned as anyone. I guess that demonstrates the dark devilry of mental illness; it can strike anyone, even a sportswoman with an outward disposition as sunny as Sarah’s.

Observing from the stands that afternoon in 2015, one cameo illustrates what I love about the England ‘keeper. At one point, Katherine Brunt threw a tad over-vigorously from deep square leg forcing Taylor into an acrobatic leap up to catch the ball. Upon landing, Taylor gesticulated and glared theatrically at her team-mate – before smiling broadly and getting on with the game. That’s how cricket should be played. That’s Sarah Taylor.