Death of a cricketer

The death of Phillip Hughes, the 25-year-old Australian cricketer, is a devastating tragedy, for his family and friends, for Australian cricket, and for everyone around the world who follows the game. Hughes was struck on the head by a short rising delivery in the course of a Sheffield Shield game, the Australian equivalent of the English first class county game. He doubled over for a moment and then collapsed face-first to the ground, never to regain consciousness.

There is and has always been a vast, unspoken violence to the game of cricket. It is not immediately obvious, but is recognised and felt by anyone who has ever played it. A new cricket ball is about the size of an adult fist, as hard as a rock and is bowled by one person at another from a distance of 22 yards. When the bowler is quick, this can be nothing short of terrifying. The ball that hit Hughes was travelling at around 90 mph.

The habit in the game has been to make something of a joke out of these physical risks. Old England pros of the 70s and 80s laugh as they tell stories of touring the Caribbean, and how they tore dressing room furniture to pieces in order to stuff their clothes with protective padding, so afraid were they of the lightning fast West Indies bowlers. Mike Gatting, the former England cricket captain was hit in a tour of West Indies, the ball striking him in the face with such force that a piece of bone from his nose was found embedded in the ball. But at the following press conference when Gatting spoke to journalists—a huge black bruise on the bridge of his nose—and was asked where exactly the ball hit him, the room collapsed in laughter.

But this has always been nervous laughter. A cricket ball delivered at 90 mph is a very serious—and now we know, lethal—threat. Modern equipment, especially the helmet, has done much to remove danger from the game. The modern helmet is much like a bicycle helmet, but with a metal grille that covers the temples and the face, but these are not always effective. Last year, the England cricketer Stuart Broad received a delivery that smashed through his grille and hit him in the face, breaking his nose. Broad collapsed, blood dripping from his face, though happily made a swift recovery. Earlier this month, Ahmed Shehzad, the Pakistan opening batsman was struck on the helmet by a quick delivery, but even though he was wearing a standard model he still suffered a fractured skull.

Some observers of the game suggest that modern protective equipment has made batsman more complacent, willing to take on dangerous and complex shots knowing that if they miss, the helmet, or chest-guard, or arm-guard will protect them. But this ignores the injuries that occurred before the advent of helmets and other protective gear, when the game also experienced horrific incidents. Peter Lever, the England bowler of the 1970s, hit Ewan Chatfield of New Zealand on the head with a quick ball in a 1974 match. Chatfield collapsed and was only saved when the England physio rushed onto the field, saw that Chatfield had swallowed his own tongue, cleared the blockage and saved his life. Richie Benaud, the former Australian captain and famous commentator, was hit by a ball in a game against South Africa. Benaud was fielding at the time and a South African batsman struck the ball at Benaud with such force that doctors at the time told him that he had narrowly escaped death.

One of the tenets of the game, and one that covers both safety and ability to score, is that the batsman should watch the ball at all times—from the bowler’s hand, during its flight down the track and onto the bat. At no point should the batsman stop watching the ball. It follows from this that the batsman, watching the ball always, is physically at risk from a frontal blow to the head and the design of modern helmets is intended to protect the batsman from precisely such a blow.

But to keep watching a ball travelling towards your body at high speed is intrinsically counter-intuitive. People who play the game will understand this. For those that do not—imagine right now that you look up from these words to see that somebody not 20 yards away had just thrown a stone at you as hard as they can. What would your reaction be? You would duck. Of course you would—it is the natural protective reaction to an approaching threat. But cricket teaches you not to duck. It teaches players that they must stand there, that they must not turn away, but instead watch the projectile and often, even though it may be moving at 90 mph, to step towards it.

When he faced the ball that killed him, Phil Hughes turned away. But cricket helmets are not designed to protect batsman from the rear. To allow more mobility, the helmet does not come all the way down to the collar, like a motorcycle helmet, but stops perhaps two inches higher than that. In a tragic piece of appalling luck, the ball hit Phillip Hughes on the back of his neck, just below the left ear, on the part of his head left exposed by the helmet.

As such, his natural instinct to protect himself had the opposite effect—and the game will forever mourn his loss.