Personally Speaking: Charles Randall

County professionals sometimes refer to club cricketers as 'clubbies' which, to my ears, is a word that affects a certain superiority. The reality is that quite a number of players on the circuit are not especially wonderful at cricket, just clubbies who practise a lot.

Quite possibly the Middlesex coach and former England seam bowler Angus Fraser, drafted on to the England selection panel this week, would agree. As a devoted member and former player of Stanmore CC in the Middlesex County League, he brings to the ECB a rare sense of perspective. He is genuinely immersed in the game, and after his Test career finished he even played club cricket, when the opportunity arose, until 2006.

A sense of perspective has been missing in the Great Pietersen Debate. KP is a very good player, definitely a cut above clubbie, but the word 'genius' was bandied far too often during his Test career. The England manaqement apparently felt the best way to handle their most charismatic batsman was to massage his ego, even when he had passed 30 years of age. Geoff Miller, the chief selector, would announce how crucial he was to the cause at every opportunity, and Andy Flower, the coach, would say something similar, though one wonders how much the Zimbabwean was simply toeing the Lord's line. Flower, from his club cricket upbringing in Harare, privately had little time for 'stars', whoever they might be.
 
In 2001 I was reporting a Middlesex versus Nottinghamshire championship game for the Daily Telegraph at Lord's, and on the first day a youthful Nottinghamshire player entered the press box and asked if he could sit by me to watch a few overs – my seat happened to be closest to the door. During conversation it emerged that he was a South African called Kevin Pietersen and he had emigrated to England because the black quota system at home meant that his opportunities to progress at Kwa-Zulu Natal were unfairly limited, in his view. This was his first visit to Lord's. After a while a wicket fell and he took his leave with polite thanks. His mobile number for my contact book was readily given. When the newcomer reached the crease that day, he scored his maiden first class hundred and finished with a beautifully struck 165, following up with 65 not out off 47 balls in the second innings. Notts had to be content with a draw, but KP was on his way at the age of 20.

I did not speak to KP directly or on the phone until seven years later when a brief one-to-one interview for the Daily Telegraph was arranged by the ECB. After the formal questions, we chatted about that first day at Lord's and his visit to the press box. His mobile number was no longer valid, and I asked him for his new number as was customary on the circuit. His answer was something I had never heard from any player before. “If you want to speak to me, ring my agent,” he said. Still a nice fellow, one does not doubt, but this was quite a contrast to 2001.

The howls of anguish that greeted the ECB decision to cut him loose in 2014 did not seem to address reality. Whether he was liked or disliked as a person, his Test performances at the age of 33 had fallen below his high standard. His take-it-or-leave attitude to batting began to infuriate the captain and management. Any cricket person in the world could see that his dismissal in Perth, caught at long-on attempting to drive Nathan Lyon for six, was unacceptable in the circumstances. This was just one example to illustrate the point that, when England needed his skill most in Australia, he went missing. During the earlier series in England, as a supposed genius, KP was mediocre when Ian Bell's grafting was a critical factor in retaining the Ashes. The memory of Bell's durability probably won him a reprieve after his dreadful displays in Australia – he was more heedless in stroke selection than even KP. While KP was wiping predictable leg-side catches, Bell was prodding thin edges to the keeper and slips with shots that he should eventually have twigged were unsuitable on those pitches. A television analysis of Bell's dismissals proved embarrassing.

The memory of KP's past crowd-pleasing centuries was not enough to save him. There was a hint of problems ahead during the 2012 winter series in India. His superb 186 in Bombay that set up a 10-wicket win masked the fact that he assembled only 152 runs from his other six innings, leaving colleagues to do most of the work in a remarkable series success. This pattern had became noticeable from 2012 and through 2013.

There were several occasions – perhaps many - when KP alienated the dressing room in his latter years, and a strained relationship with Alastair Cook, the captain, did not help. All this could be overlooked if he had delivered runs.

Having watched KP's 165 at Lord's all those years ago, I saw him bat many times as he climbed the ladder to international recognition. He excelled as a raw-boned striker of the ball on both sides of the wicket, outstanding at county level. He used a long reach for powerful cover-drives, and his pulling was loaded with venom. It was no surprise when he burst on to the England one-day scene and became a shoo-in for a debut in the 2005 Ashes series.

The puzzle to me has been his batting style. From a thrilling all-round batsman, KP began to favour the leg-side heavily so that he became predictable and suffered diminishing returns. It seems there was no attempt to remedy the problem.  Viv Richards batted this way in a long career, but the West Indies maestro was a much better and more reliable player than KP. These observations could be made by anyone in the cricket community with a television.

While the ECB were perfectly justified in dropping KP from the Test team, excluding him from one-day cricket was much more controversial. Mature players tend to do well in the 50 and 20 overs format, and England look fragile without him. But the ECB decided a clean break was needed. With the IPL looming, KP probably did not mind too much.