It was a clever ruse by the South Africans to bring up Virat Kohli’s name in the ball tampering case against Faf du Plessis last week. Like the latter, in the footage extracted from the first Test against England at Kanpur, the Indian captain was seen to polish the ball with spit while sucking on a lozenge.
The ICC wasn’t convinced Kohli was guilty as the footage did not show conclusively he had used extraneous substance, apart from spittle, on the ball. In du Plessis’s case, it can be clearly seen that he is using the mint that was in his mouth on the ball.
The move backfired on South Africa, and their captain was docked 100 per cent of his match fees, which was accepted under protest. But I don’t think it was their intent to prove Kohli was at fault; rather, show up that much of what passes as ball tampering falls in a grey area.
As the expression suggests, this grey area’ is vexing. So constitutes ball tampering? Law 42.3 states that it is permissible to “polish the ball provided that no artificial substance is used”.
Sweat and saliva to polish the ball, therefore, are not reproachable. Conversely, rolling the ball along the ground to remove the shine – which India did regularly in the 1970s, 80s and 90s to help their spinners — can’t be faulted.
Clearly, using bottle caps to scuff the ball — as Imran Khan had once declared was the practice in county cricket — falls in this category. Picking the seam, using nails to try and indent the leather beyond the normal wear and tear is also taboo. Most certainly, biting the ball — as Shahid Afridi was found out trying once — is not only outlandish, but invites instant culpability. But all attempts on working on working’ on the ball need not be as blatant.
The need to get advantage also enhances deviousness. A classic example of this comes from the 1976 series between India and England and involving John Lever. The English fast bowler was found by umpire Judah Reuben to use Vaseline he had applied above his eyebrows, ostensibly to protect the sweat from getting into his eyes.
Reuben’s suspicion was aroused when he found the ball starting to swing alarmingly for Lever. The bowler, his captain Mike Denness and the England team protested vehemently, but the umpire unmoved.
Had the English players known that Reuben’s primary vocation was as fingerprint expert in the forensic department of the Bombay police perhaps they would have been less demonstrative!
Over the years, players have been found to carry substances in their pocket to make’ the ball. This has included dust and mud, lip gloss, varnish and such others.
However, the matter gets complicated when the means used are so subtle and/or become so commonplace that they seem to fit within the regular pattern of the game. This is also where Law 42.3 becomes vague.
For instance, what if a player gargles with coconut oil, then uses the oily spittle to polish the ball. Since using saliva to polish the ball is allowed, there is some advantage to be gained if this includes oil. But how can it be detected?
The problem becomes acute when such occurrence becomes commonplace: like players using a sweet, as du Plessis was doing when caught on camera during the second Test against Australia.
The South African was upset at being charged (it must be mentioned that this was his second time though) because in his experience, everybody does it. Support du Plessis got from fellow-players not only puts the issue in perspective, but also riles it further.
For instance, how much advantage is gained by using a sweet? Former England skipper Michael Vaughan (once similarly accused), put out a short video to show it makes no impact on how the ball will behave.
But Law 42.3 exists, so what is the way out? Dean Jones, former Aussie batsman, has come out with perhaps the best solution. Jones argues that the issue should be tossed at players since they are either the beneficiaries or victims. Let them come up with what is legal, what is not. In my opinion, that makes eminent sense.
