Behind the Shades: a retrospective review

Back in the days of yore, when the Earth was young, gods stalked the land and we were all beautiful - or more accurately, last year - a certain Mr Duncan Fletcher gave Simon and Schuster the gift of publishing The Autobiography. Now this would probably have gone mostly unremarked, in the way of most sporting memoirs, had said Mr Fletcher, or perhaps his publishers, not done a deal with one of the tabloid rags for serialisation, and had the rag not selected the part of the book that dealt with Andrew Flintoff and his pedalo antics.

I must admit to having read some, not all, of the extracts (free of charge, at my work) and like, no doubt, many others, thought that Duncan had indeed betrayed the trust of the dressing-room. I had little intention of reading the book but my librarian, knowing my interest in cricket, told me that he had asked our local council to purchase a copy of Behind the Shades for my delectation.

Obviously it would have been rude to say I didn't want it but it wasn't until a week or so ago that the book arrived in all its new never-before-opened gorgeousness for me to read. I have a weakness for the feel, smell and touch of a new book no matter what its contents - hell, I can even be excited at the arrival of a brand-new pristine, shrink-wrapped telephone directory - so I plunged headfirst into Mr Fletcher's oevre. The opening words of the Preface "It all ended in tears" were almost enough to have me hurling the tome across the room, shouting "You predictable whining bastard", but that could have damaged the book and led to a fine from the council, so I persevered and the first two chapters: Born in Rhodesia and Down South really were a slog to get through. Full of the worst kind of self-deprecating praise - listing his personal achievements as a school-boy and junior player eg "...I did eventually become captain of cricket at Prince Edward [his school]. Another complete shock, after those years of only being classed good enough to be an underling." And much more of this type of guff. However, as soon as he moved on to writing about his time with Glamorgan and then the England team, the book became an absolute can't put it down number.

His insights on the political machinations of the ECB and the ICC are well worth reading, and he has plenty of kind and genuine things to say about, amongst others, Graham Thorpe and Mark Ramprakash. His relationship with Michael Vaughan is explored and there are tributes galore to Ashley Giles. The very small part of the book that deals with the problems of Flintoff are not sensationalised and actually do not feel like a betrayal of anyone or any dressing-room.

I would recommend this book to anyone interested in English cricket and reading the closing words, I did actually have a tear in my eye: "I know I am lucky to have taken that journey [coaching England], and certainly feel immensely proud to have experienced it. I think we will end as we started. Really, it has been one hell of a time."

Hugh Morris, managing director of the ECB said to "Wales on Sunday" at the time excerpts of the book were published in whichever tabloid it was: "I've not read the book so I can't comment on its contents."

Well, Hugh and others - give it a go. You'll be pleasantly surprised.

[Image: Getty] [mimitig]