Shane Warne nudged leg spin into the realm of limelight. It was never easy as traditionally his nation Australia, like the West Indies, was known as the backyard of fast bowling. With just a few predecessors like Bill O’Reilly and Richie Benaud dabbling in wrist spin, Warne did not have heady history to lean on. Yet he mastered the craft, slipped one past England’s Mike Gatting’s bat, referred to as ‘the ball of the century’, and tallied 1001 international wickets (708 in Tests; 293 in One Day Internationals).
‘Larger than life’
Leg-spin is an arduous skill and often its purveyors lose control. But Warne maintained his guile and along with India’s Anil Kumble, lent a fresh lease to cricket’s rare vocation that fuses the slow waltz and the quick dagger.
There is much more to Warne than just a turning delivery. He was larger than life and prone to booking space in salacious tabloids. His marriage crumbled and he had no qualms in lighting a cigarette, quaffing his beer and let his opinions known. He was an incredible cricketer and as a man, his flaws were so obvious that people could throw darts at them.
It is not surprising that there is a fair bit of literature on Warne. Sports writer Gideon Haigh in his excellent book On Warne , wrote: “Warnie swaggered down the middle of the road, living large but always bowling big, revelling in the attention while never losing the love of his craft.”
And when Warne sat down to pen his autobiography No Spin along with Mark Nicholas, the challenge was to spring surprises at the reader, fully aware of the great man’s legacy on the field and his foibles off it. In Nicholas — a former first-class cricketer from England and a gifted writer and commentator — Warne had the right wordsmith.
A critic referred to Nicholas’s previous book A Beautiful Game as a ‘love letter to cricket’. But throughout No Spin Nicholas ensures that we hear Warne’s voice, as he explains in his introduction: “The book is written mainly in his (Warne’s) vocabulary. It is Shane’s story not mine.” In the same note, Nicholas scripts a candid appraisal: “Women have been both his fun and his folly. Cricket, of course, has been his fulfilment.”
The turning point
And then Warne takes over. He reveals his maternal roots in Europe, the growing up years, the cricketing dreams, the fondness for beers and junk food and that turning point — his association with coach Terry Jenner. In their first meeting, Jenner holds an unflattering mirror. Warne recounts: “He said: ‘You are overweight — fat, actually. You have no discipline and you think you are better than you are. You didn’t deserve to play for Australia’.” Probably Warne saw the light then. He trained hard and strove to be the best cricketer he could be.
Gratitude is not just reserved for Jenner, Warne dispenses his thank-you notes to his first set of astute captains — Allan Border and Mark Taylor. Intense men, who backed their exuberant leg-spinner like how strict fathers indulge their flamboyant younger sons. But when it comes to Steve Waugh, there is no love lost. At one point, Waugh drops Warne and the wound festers. But Warne found a kindred spirit in Waugh’s twin brother Mark, who remains a buddy.
When it comes to team-mates or rivals, either Warne is all gushing admiration or supremely caustic. But when it comes to his craft, lyricism and punchy lines stir. Sample this: “The art of leg-spin is creating something that is not really there. It is a magic trick, surrounded by mystery, aura and fear. What is coming and how will it get there? At what speed, trajectory and with what sound, because when correctly released, the ball fizzes like electricity on a wire.”
Admitting to mistakes
Warne may seem a bit sheepish and a touch economical with the truth, be it his and Mark Waugh’s tryst with a bookie, of sharing pitch and weather information, or the incident with a diuretic, aimed at weight-loss, which got him an inadvertent dope-taint. He can be naïve and slip down the vanity-slope, yet there is no denying his bluntness in admitting to his conflicting desires — the endless quest for women and the concurrent search for a stable partner. “I also love working out a woman, finding out what makes her tick and then what makes her happy. I can think of nothing better than being in a strong relationship and caring for each other,” he writes.
He also presciently declares: “As a kid I made plenty of mistakes, and still make a few to this day, but I have achieved things that have brought smiles and happiness. The public grew with me, just as they did on ‘The Truman Show’, sort of living and breathing it all.”
It is an apt summation of Warne, flaws and all. Nicholas, the co-author, and the readers, couldn’t have asked for more.
No Spin ; Shane Warne, My Autobiography with Mark Nicholas, Ebury Press/ Penguin, ₹699.
