Amol Rajan: My respects to England’s Adil Rashid from a failed twirlyman

Dear Adil,

Hello, mate. We’ve not met but in that slightly creepy way that happens in modern life, and on account of you playing cricket for England, I know quite a bit about you. I have, in fact, taken a close interest in your career to date. Let me explain.

You see, I’ve ended up being a journalist. And I can’t lie — I do love it. But when I grew up in south London all I ever wanted to do was bowl leg-spin for England. In other words, to do exactly what you’ve been doing since you made your Test debut a few weeks ago in the three-match series in the UAE against Pakistan.

I worked really, really hard at it. I used to cycle to my old club, Sinjuns, on the corner of Trinity Road near Wandsworth Common, for net practice on my own before school.

I spent years ripping and healing the skin on my fingers so that I built up calluses that might let me spin the ball. I examined slo-mo videos and archive pictures of all my heroes — Shane Warne, Abdul Qadir, Richie Benaud, Subhash Gupte, Clarrie Grimmett and Bill O’Reilly – for hours.

To what end? Not much, I suppose. It turned out that I was too fat and rubbish to make it as a pro, though I did write a history of spin bowling called Twirlymen (see if you can get hold of a rare un-signed copy). And now I find myself living vicariously through you.

See, I heard about you a few years ago. Here was a young bowler, whose initials and bi-syllabic names had the same construction as mine, with a similar bowling action and general physique. I was rooting for you, hoping you’d make it as an England spinner, and help revive cricket’s most beautiful art. And as I watch you now on the international stage, taking wickets for England, I feel a heady mix of uncontainable emotions.

Jealousy is the main one. You’re achieving things I spent a decade striving for, before falling short. Every time you walk into bowl, a pang of envy goes through my heart.

Each time you celebrate, I remember how I fantasised about punching the air after bamboozling some Test batsman with my googly. You’ve even had sessions with Warne, my hero, whose picture adorned my bedroom wall as a child.

But even more strongly — and I can honestly say I mean this — I feel positive stirrings too.

There’s the sheer joy and exhilaration of watching a young spinner succeed. And there’s a huge amount of respect too, because I know a bit about the stamina it takes to run in and bowl leg spin — and I was rubbish compared to you. That feeling of solidarity we spinners feel never goes away.

So I hope playing for England is as magical for you as I hoped it would be for me. Never forget that you’re doing something millions of us fantasised about for years on end.

Good luck, mate, and I hope we meet some day: I’d love to tell you about my mystery ball, so that you might deploy it yourself. In the meantime, if you fancy a job swap for a day, that can be arranged. And failing that, if the England team offers internships please let me know.

Yours in twirling solidarity, Amol

Amol Rajan is editor of The Independent. Twitter: @amolrajan