10th August 2025
The 5th Test match between England and India at the Kia Oval, which finished last Monday, resulted in a victory for the visitors by 6 runs, which enabled them to draw the series 2-2.
The subsequent reporting by the mainstream media and on the social networks has covered a number of themes: the enthralling nature of the whole series; the ill-advised shot that brought about the dismissal of the centurion Harry Brook (when England were 301 for 3 and needing only another 73 runs to win the match) and gave a seemingly beaten Indian side the opportunity to rescue a lost cause; the courage of Chris Woakes in coming out to bat as England’s number 11 following his shoulder dislocation in India’s first innings; the validity (or not) of extending the regulations governing the use of substitutes in cricket matches.
I shall offer some views on the last two of these issues, beginning here with the Woakes innings and following this up, later, on the future use of substitutes.
Chris Woakes received a standing ovation from the capacity crowd when he came out to join Gus Atkinson with England requiring 17 runs to win. In the BBC commentary box, Michael Vaughan referred to apparently similar previous occasions involving Saleem Malik and Malcolm Marshall, though he omitted perhaps the most famous near-precedent, when Colin Cowdrey walked out with his broken arm in plaster at the end of the Lord’s Test match against the West Indies in 1963. (I was present when Marshall batted one-handed with his broken left thumb in plaster at Headingley in 1984. He went on to take seven wickets in the England’s second innings to set up a comfortable West Indies win).
I have to admit that – along with, I suspect, most other observers at the ground or on television – I found Woakes’s walk down the pavilion steps and on to the ground a moving piece of sports theatre. Although I still think this, further reflection suggests that a more nuanced perspective is required. In particular…
… how does it stand with the duty of care that sits amongst the responsibilities of the match officials and the England management?
There was a fundamental difference between the Woakes innings and the three historical cases noted above. He came out to bat with his left arm in a sling under his sweater. The room for manoeuvre in his upper body was therefore much more restricted than for the other cases, in none of which was a sling worn. Moreover, Cowdrey had been guaranteed not to face a delivery, as he replaced Derek Shackleton (who had been run out at the non-striker’s end) knowing that only two deliveries remained in the match. It had been left to David Allen to safely negotiate those (from the great Wes Hall) so that the game could end in a draw with England nine wickets down.
Malcolm Marshall did face 8 deliveries, one of which he slashed over gulley for four. He batted one-handed – and, as usual, right-handed – opening up his stance and taking care to stretch his left hand out behind him to keep it away from danger. Saleem Malik adopted a similar approach – his lower left arm in plaster, though still in the firing line – when making three runs from 14 deliveries for Pakistan against the West Indies in Faisalabad in 1986.
Like Cowdrey, Woakes did not face a delivery during the time that he was at the crease, as he was at the non-striking end on arriving in the middle and he and Atkinson then ran singles off the last balls of two overs from the Indian seam bowlers, Mohammed Siraj and Prasidh Krishna. (The batsmen also ran for a two, when it was clear that even scampering between the wickets was the cause of considerable pain for Woakes). Atkinson was bowled by Siraj off the first ball of the following over to give India the victory.
The key point here is that the circumstances could have arisen in which Chris Woakes would have had to face the bowling. What would have happened then? I assume that Woakes would have batted left-handed (and, of course, one-handed) to shield his injured left shoulder. Potentially facing Siraj, bowling in the high 80s mph.
The Indians would have been placed in an impossible situation that was none of their making. What was the captain, Shubman Gill, to do – bowl his spinner? He was under no obligation to do so, of course, and it is highly unlikely that that would have occurred. What would have happened if Siraj had bowled at full pace and hit Woakes on the injured shoulder or – the batsman’s stance at the crease being unfamiliar as well as painful – on the helmet?
Woakes has subsequently stated that he “never considered not going out there” as the test match approached its dramatic conclusion and one has to admire his display of courage. However, in circumstances such as this, it is surely the case that the individual is not necessarily the best person to make a judgement about his own interests. Indeed, Stephan Shemilt’s online report on the BBC states that Woakes had offered to bat in England’s first innings, only to be knocked back by the coach, Brendon McCullum.
I know that a great deal of sport – especially at the elite-level – involves danger: boxing, Formula 1, rugby, horse racing, ski-jumping et al. And, of course, the game of cricket also has its risks – to state the blindingly obvious, it is played at relatively close quarters with a hard ball – though these have been reduced in the years since (the helmet-less) Brian Close faced up to Michael Holding in the Old Trafford gloom of a Saturday evening in 1976 and only avoided serious injury (or worse) through a combination of great skill and very great good fortune.
More prosaically – leaving aside the risks – the game of cricket is also meant to present an equitable contest between bat and ball. For Woakes versus Siraj, that would not have been the case – for reasons that had nothing to do with their respective skills as batsman and bowler.
Perhaps I am getting more risk-averse – or, simply, softer – in my old age. But I would suggest that the Chris Woakes incident was a (thankfully rare) example of cricket being reckless and – fortunately – getting away with it. I wish him a speedy recovery.
An Ordinary Spectator 