Is Cricket writing a complex discipline?
Hello again, friends. It's been too long.
Substack is a tidy platform. For a small percentage of subscriber revenue, they provide an easy space to write and publish, with tools to grow and manage your audience. It's direct-to-consumer content—a growing space on the commercial internet. Let's hope, anyway.
My go-to tab on the writer's dashboard is 'subscribers.' Here, I see new sign-ups, reading habit data, and the oldies who've been here from the start—thank you. The funny part? I only see email addresses. Sometimes I can guess a full name if the address is transparent, other times just a first name. Often, I have no clue who the sign-up is.
This morning, I checked and felt genuinely thankful all subscribers were still present. Some financially committed, others (I assume) waiting for a reason to invest. This references my recent... let's call it "intermittent" posting.
Anyways, it’s good to be back here.
The summer of cricket (or lack thereof).
Not to make excuses, but the 2024 summer—assuming a northern hemisphere bias—has been a complete mystery. Or, as a wannabe cricket writer might say, a non-event. Here we are in August, struggling to pin down a memorable moment. (Yes, the nostalgic British will surely point to James Anderson's retirement?)
Since April, I've managed to drip out a grand total of eight Across Cricket pieces. That's roughly one every fortnight. Anywhere else, that's enough to get you sacked!
Three columns were dedicated to the T20 World Cup during my stint in the un-United States. One was a valiant effort to connect AI with cricket selection issues. There was some coaching self-reflection at the expense of one of Australia's emerging batting talents, Jake Fraser-McGurk—I enjoyed that one. James Anderson occupied a column—because everyone loves Jimmy. Then there was some self-indulgence about my playing insecurities and the predicament of 'being overtaken'. (I sent this to Joe Biden. Still waiting on his reply!)
Now, you might wonder why I'm calling it the "un-United States." Well, that's a story for another time—I do also get on Mr Biden too much!
What I can tell you is that despite the political divisiveness, my 3-month stay was wonderful. Between visiting friends, spending time with my son and my partner, and re-visiting the anglo-charm of New England, I found myself, again, fully immersed in an enthralling culture.
The lack of content wasn't due to a lack of want; it was more of a lack of material to get the right side/left side working. If there is one strength in my content game, it's thought and seeing through a different lens. This strength wasn't a product of self-discovery; no, I have been told this on multiple occasions. It’s still hard to believe.
So, the question begs: What to do?
Substack is a great platform for writers, but cricket writers are definitely in the minority—despite cricket being the world's most popular game. (Thank you, India!)
The cricket Substacks I read are excellent:
Gideon Haigh and Pete Lalor at Cricket Et Al
Simon 'Yozzer' Hughes at The Cricverse (I recommend his latest piece on the tragic passing of Graham Thorpe)
Neil Manthorp's Manners-on-cricket, offering a South African perspective
Tarutr Malhotra's The Best Cricket Stories, providing an Indian viewpoint
And there are others that rank higher in the Substack algorithm.
As for SpeakingNick, well, it's a bit confusing. Someone way back suggested it would be a great play on my surname and the writing caper. But there's no mention of cricket—I should have pointed that out! There's further thinking to be done here.
Recently, Peter Lalor wrote a post lamenting the lot of cricket journalists who get too close to players and lose their trust. He describes the balancing act a cricket journo must measure when gleaning stories and then breaking them. Cricket journalism differs from cricket writing, where you can be more measured and not restricted by deadlines. You can read the full post here.
In summary:
Lalor's article "Cricket Media's Fine Balance" offers an insider's perspective on the intricate dynamics between cricket journalists and players. Lalor highlights the delicate balance required to maintain professional integrity while fostering relationships crucial for insightful reporting. He illustrates this through personal anecdotes involving high-profile cricketers such as past captain Michael Clarke, the human headline that's David Warner, and current samaritan Usman Khawaja. He argues for and against how these connections can lead to exclusive stories and a deeper understanding of the sport and its protagonists.
Cricket journalists face ethical dilemmas, mainly when reporting on sensitive issues or criticising player performance—how dare they! He debates the unwritten rules of respecting players' privacy in shared spaces like team hotels and the importance of confronting players face-to-face after publishing critical articles. He goes to the challenges of reporting negative stories while maintaining player access and relationships, highlighting the small and interconnected nature of the cricket world.
Lalor contrasts the value of on-the-ground reporting with the rise of digital media and 'content providers'—to be avoided. He argues for the continued presence of journalists at practice and on tours, citing examples like the nearly forgotten sandpaper scandal, where being physically present provided unique insights. Lalor basically champions the cause of the authentic cricket reporter and, by extension, cricket writer.
So, really, I wanted to see if I could get through a post without saying anything at all. If it was easier than normal then I guess the 'deeper posts' are worthwhile; if—and it hasn't been—easier than a normal post then I'm likely in a world of hurt.
That said, I hope you are happy to have my words and thoughts back—with some help from others. The 2024-25 southern hemisphere summer shapes as a far more interesting subject with India wanting to three-peat Australia on their home turf.
Stay tuned, and, as always, thank you for being here.
