What do Ricky Ponting, Ian Botham, Dunga, Andrew Flintoff, Bryan Robson and Martin Johnson all have in common? They are each a prime example of that fascinating sporting sub-species known as MUSSULs — Magnificent but Unsubtle Sporting Stars Unsuited to Leadership.
The odd thing about MUSSULs isn’t that they fail when placed in positions that require intelligence, guile and subtlety. No, the odd thing is that they are ever promoted to these positions in the first place.
Time and time again, we watch sports administrators – for the most part reasonably intelligent and rational men – place MUSSULs in roles for which they are patently ill-suited.
Mostly, this is probably sheer laziness.
Administrators watch a Ponting or a Johnson or a Flintoff perform heroics on the field and assume that, if placed in a position of leadership, the MUSSUL’s example will naturally rub off on his team-mates.
Often, also, the MUSSUL is the most celebrated member of the team and it is easier for administrators to appease the popular clamour to bestow the garland upon the head of the people’s hero than it is to row against it. The ECB’s decision to award the Ashes captaincy to Andrew Flintoff in 2006 ahead of the savvy, Radley-educated Strauss is the perfect example of this.
MUSSULs are fine in roles which don’t require much thought. They make superb sporting warriors. The MUSSUL will play on with a disclocated shoulder (Robson), a bandjaxed knee (Flintoff), chipped front teeth (Ponting) and he can even withstand an elbow to the mush without batting an eyelid (Johnson).
They make superb on-field captains in sports such as soccer and rugby where the power of example can be sufficient to lead a team and where a brief exhortation of “Up and at ‘em boys!” is often all it takes.
But other leadership roles place a much greater premium on sporting guile. The is true of captaincy in cricket, and true also of the positions of coach/manager in soccer and rugby.
Placed in charge of ten or fifteen men who are often psychologically different to the MUSSUL in important ways, and who often have scarcely an ounce of his talent, the MUSSUL tends to flounder. Baffled by his team, he falls back on “footie gee-ups” or dressing room rollockings.
We watch on with sadness as the MUSSUL turns puce with rage in the stand or unwisely attacks his struggling spinner in the press.
Which brings me back to Ricky Ponting.
I doubt there’s an Australian in the land who doubts any longer that Ricky Ponting is a bona fide MUSSUL. The charge sheet of sporting bone headedness is just too long.
We watch him make calamitous errors of captaincy – such as inserting England at Edgbaston in 2005 – and then, like a typical MUSSUL, draw the erroneous “lesson” that one must never, ever insert the opposition, which leads in turn to a howler like 88 all-out at Headingley ’10.
We cringe behind the sofa as he tries to ape Sir Alex Ferguson by using the press to wage psychological warfare on his opponents, but without even a tenth of the subtlety.
We note that, like many MUSSULs, he is obsessed with speaking fluently to the media but fails to discern when the media stuff is important and when it isn’t.
And then we read in horror as, in true 21st century style, a former team-mate (one S.K. Warne) logs onto Twitter and writes: “Sorry Ricky but what are you doing!”
Ricky, if you’re reading this, old boy, then fret not: as a MUSSUL, you are in marvellous sporting company. Some of the finest sportsmen in history sit alongside you on the sea-food shelf.
There is absolutely no shame in your position. But there would be shame in clinging on when you know you’re not up to the job. This captaincy lark simply isn’t for you – it’s time to do a Botham, hand it on to someone else, and get stuck into England this summer as one of the boys.
Then we can all sit back and have some fun watching you bat and watching Michael Clarke trying to turn himself into the new Mike Brearley.
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