The Coach: David Lloyd
Anything But Murder
David Lloyd (2000) — The Autobiography: Anything But Murder, London: CollinsWillow
Although he didn’t come into the role until the second half of the decade, David Lloyd is the first name that comes to my mind when thinking about the role of England cricket coach in the 90s.
Immediate predecessor Ray Illingworth technically only undertook coaching duties for a year, but his was the dominant off-field media presence during the early Atherton years, with Keith Fletcher increasingly receding into the background before being dispensed with entirely.
After Illingworth surrendered the hands-on ‘supremo’ position he had apparently always wanted after the long and draining winter of 1995/6, Lloyd was appointed as coach. The impression given by most sources was that England, and particularly captain Atherton, needed Lloyd more than he coveted the job. By the time he left, the role of coach seemed more high-profile and attractive enough to a range of candidates, but discussion about who would get the top job seemed rather limited in 1996.
Hopes that the days of the Illingworth-era media faux pas would be behind the England team were soon dashed when Lloyd made his most famous utterance, alluded to in the title of this book, after England narrowly failed to secure victory against Zimbabwe in the first Test at Bulawayo in 1996/7. It wasn’t quite Kevin Keegan’s ‘love it’ speech, but it was cricket’s closest equivalent.
If Anything But Murder has a focus, it is Lloyd’s infamous outbursts while England coach, with the other major incident being his decision to question the legality of opposition spinner Muttiah Muralidaran during the 1998 Test match against Sri Lanka at The Oval.
To be fair to Lloyd, England had been slightly unfortunate in Zimbabwe, having played positive cricket to try and win the match, and were frustrated by defensive tactics and umpiring decisions not going their way. It had been a grumpy tour, although to what extent this was self-inflicted, with a ban on players’ families not having an entirely positive effect on morale, is open to some debate.
And while Lloyd’s comments regarding Murali do him little credit, frustration at the home team having to face one of the world’s best spinners on a turning pitch must have been a factor. It was certainly not what the doctor ordered as preparation for an away Ashes series, and put a dampener on an otherwise successful summer that had seen the team earn a hard-fought win against a strong South African team.
Otherwise, the book is less than candid, for the most part, with Lloyd’s spell as Lancashire coach in the early 90s being largely skipped over altogether. Coaching was something he turned to later in life, rather than immediately after playing, with an extended playing career in Minor Counties cricket, then a spell as an umpire, preceding his stint in charge at Lancashire.
On his spell as England coach, like Atherton – for whom he evidently had significant admiration – Lloyd states here that he would rather have no input in selection than be damned by association with a committee decision, and suggests that a football manager-style arrangement would work well in cricket.
There is little evidence of any animosity between Lloyd and Ray Illingworth during the final stages of the latter’s reign as chairman of selectors, with the Yorkshireman evidently keen to see out the last year of his contract quietly, although Lloyd does note Illingworth’s repeated assertion that Martyn Moxon – whose last cap for England came in 1989, and who was never selected by Illingworth – was the best opening batsman in the country as an odd statement to make within earshot of his captain. Problems with another Yorkshireman – Geoffrey Boycott – raise their head, however, with Lloyd here exploring his suspicions that Boycott coveted the England coaching role.
Otherwise, Anything but Murder is rather light on detail, even when discussing great successes such as the 1998 win over South Africa. There are tidbits of insight on various players who played under him: he notes challenges in managing Nasser Hussain, Darren Gough and Chris Lewis, and there is some discussion of the inability of certain players, including Graeme Hick and Ian Salisbury, to cope with the pressure at cricket’s highest level.
The strongest criticism is reserved for Andy Caddick, who played a significant role in England’s overseas victory in New Zealand in 1996/7 and was the team’s most successful bowler during the following summer’s Ashes. Once Alec Stewart took over from Atherton, Caddick was dropped, a decision with which, on the basis of his thoughts here, Lloyd evidently agreed.
Although initially brought in to lift Atherton, Lloyd’s approach appeared more in sync with Stewart, with their desire not to overcomplicate the game and pick strong characters upon whom they could rely rather than indulging more mercurial talents. England were, though, perhaps guilty of omitting too many of their best players for the 1998/9 Ashes and were unable to overcome a largely Warne-less Aussie team.
Having said that, one of the surprising details is that both Lloyd and Stewart wanted Chris Lewis back in the squad for the 1999 one-day World Cup but were overruled. It’s hard to imagine it would have made much of a difference to their abject performances and early elimination in home conditions, both of which effectively put paid to their captain/coach partnership.(1)
By that point, residual goodwill towards Lloyd remaining from the 1998 win over South Africa had been all but exhausted, and few were surprised when he left the role after the World Cup. It’s hard to imagine England would have done any worse with Lloyd in charge for the rest of the summer, although with no extension on the horizon, perhaps the zombie ship that the team ultimately resembled against New Zealand would have succumbed anyway.
As with his predecessors, Lloyd’s chances were always restricted by the limitations of the structure around him, and the lack of ECB control over England players and their workloads was a major obstacle to success.
Still, Lloyd achieved more than his two immediate predecessors, guiding England to a rare overseas win in New Zealand, their best Ashes result of the decade – i.e. their narrowest defeat – the following summer, and securing a home victory over major opposition in a five-Test series the year after that.
However, any overarching philosophy or strategy appears – on this evidence at least – to have been rather lacking, and Lloyd’s combustible nature meant that his time in charge was always likely to have a limited shelf life. He returned, almost immediately, to the commentary box, where he had previously seemed at ease, and remained for the next two decades.
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Young Lions Sometimes Roar: Watching Bad Cricket (And Playing Cricket Badly) in the 90s by Ben Richards is out now.
Notes:
(1) Much was made of England’s penchant for ODI specialists during this era, particularly ‘bits and pieces’ all rounders. Even if Lewis was not available, the absence of Craig White and Dominic Cork does seem rather strange in retrospect.
Cork didn’t even make the original squad of 30 players, and was none too happy about it. His thoughts on the matter, as expressed to Emma John, in her excellent memoir, Following On, always tickled me: ‘I remember saying to David Graveney, the chairman of selectors, “You’re having a laugh mate. There’s something wrong.”’
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