The act of bowling is simple, the vocabulary used to describe it reflects the difficulty in pinning down its artistry and craft
E
very act in cricket’s history has begun with a bowler delivering a ball to a batter 22 yards away. Delivering. Like a postman delivers a council tax bill. Like a waiter delivers a round of drinks. Of all the verbs used to describe the bowling of a ball, this one speaks to the deep-seated cultural inequity that has plagued this sport since its inception.
“If there was ever a word that proves we live in a batter’s world, this is it,” says Steve Harmison, the fearsome fast bowler turned commentator who delivered 16,313 balls for England across eight years. “But not every delivery is the same. Some come gift-wrapped like a present at Christmas. Some can jump up and smack you in the face.”
A batter can hit the ball in any direction. As we noted back in August, they can scoop over fine leg, scythe through point or bash it down the ground. But a bowler must effectively walk a tightrope. Anything sprayed too wide will be penalised. Anything floated too full or dragged down too short will be punished. Which is why bowlers aim for the nebulous realm of the corridor of uncertainty.
