I see the scorecard. The scorecard tells me how many balls every batsman has faced in the match. Even from when it didn’t matter when the Perth Scorchers had already iced the Hobart Hurricanes.

The contest was finished before Ashton Turner arrived in the middle, but the scorecard still reveals that he faced seven balls.

During those seven balls, the keeper behind the stumps was Tim Paine. When Australia next play a T20, Paine will be the Australian wicketkeeper. When people wonder why, they’ll look at his runs, then they’ll look at his catches and stumpings. They won’t look at other keeping statistics.

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And for a very good reason: there aren’t any.

If someone suggested that scorecards shouldn’t show the amount of balls faced by a batsman, there would be an outcry, and rightfully so.

Particularly in limited-overs cricket, counting the number of balls faced contextualises the worth of those runs. Steve Smith could score 100 not out in his next ODI match for Australia, but if he took 200 deliveries to do so, he would be criticised, not applauded.

Cricket values the time it takes to score runs, so it’s measured. Put even more simply, cricket values batting.

But fielding is another matter completely.

Cricket fans value fielding and wicketkeeping, but that hasn’t yet translated into any proper measurement of either. It should, because more and more money is coming into cricket.



As T20 grows, players are becoming used to specialist roles. The value of data is growing.

Even allowing for the danger of analysis by paralysis, it could be vital for a keeper to know they are likely to receive less balls against a certain opposition.

Training can be tailored for that purpose.

If less balls are likely to be received, training for the gap between opportunities increases in value. If more balls are likely to be received, training for the balls that reach your gloves increases in value.

Perhaps one reason why Matthew Wade attracts the criticism he does is because of the lack of relevant data. The argument becomes res ipsa loquiter for those who are convinced he should not be the Australian wicketkeeper, because they can’t hurl a number at his selection, other than perhaps how many catches he has dropped off Nathan Lyon in his first stint in the Australian team.

Statistics have their own problems, but at least better statistics would help answer the question of who the best wicketkeeper in Australia is, and whether that, along with his batting, should be enough to see him in the Test team.

Criticism of Wade may not be entirely out of order – it is his livelihood to catch balls.

But the problem is, if you are a statistician who has never seen Wade keep before, the amount of criticism is likely to seem excessive compared to the lack of criticism about fielding data.



While it often manifests itself at a personal level, the root cause is professional: the game doesn’t rate wicketkeeping enough to have measurable criteria for players to be judged against.

Wade is not the only player in this situation. Jonny Bairstow is another example of someone who, if they were a lesser batsman, probably would not have made it into their national team. As he was scoring the most runs in the team before the Indian tour, his wicketkeeping shortcomings were in just as sharp focus.

He was taking plenty of catches, but he was dropping too many as well.

He had his defenders, as Wade does, and those defenders mounted their defence on similar lines – he works hard. He has other attributes. Stop being so judgemental.

They would have been better served with issuing another challenge: stop being so lazy in judgement. Show the data that proves there is a better wicketkeeper somewhere else, and why that data is relevant.

Wade and Bairstow are not old cricketers. By the time they are, we should know much more about what makes a good wicketkeeper. Hopefully by then, wicket-keeping debates can be less about the person than the profession.

For it is not just in response to a bowler that a wicketkeeper works.

Which wicketkeeper in the world is best at cleanly gathering a crap throw from a fielder? Which wicketkeeper is best at positioning themselves for a run-out? Which wicketkeeper creates the most chances through their athleticism?



Other than through raw visual footage of matches, how do you answer those questions?

Bowlers deserve sympathy. For instance, their lack of a contribution with the bat is measured, while the lack of fielding data means a lack of contribution doesn’t pop out in the generic scorecard.

But hold the violins.

In Tests, when a bowler dishes up a ball the batsman cannot play a legitimate shot to and the keeper can’t reach, it is often not so wide that the umpire will call it as an actual wide. The resultant byes go down against the keeper’s name, not the bowler’s. Yet, in that instance, it is the bowler, not the keeper, who has made the mistake.

So, while bowlers may suffer from unsatisfactory fielding data, they also benefit from it. Like the rest of us, bowlers can toss around imaginary numbers about what a fielder is worth.

But when I click on a scorecard, I don’t see imaginary numbers. I just see numbers that are infuriatingly insufficient.

Maybe they never will be sufficient. Yet, my bet is that they will get better, because the money will dictate that it becomes better.

I’ve given my two cents worth here. For franchise owners, being able to accurately measure Tim Paine’s wicket-keeping is worth a lot more than two cents.

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