Consider how useful it would be for a team to be able to call on a player capable of bowling pace and spin at the highest level; one to whom the captain could comfortably and confidently toss the ball if there was swing or seam about, or if the surface was offering turn. Oh, and what if that player happened to be one of the greatest batsmen the game has ever seen?

The West Indies had such a player once. There was nothing he could not do on a cricket field. He could field anywhere and catch anything. He could do serious damage to the opposition’s batting with any one of three bowling styles: orthodox left-arm, wrist spin, or very lively seam and swing. His batting, undoubtedly his strongest suit, was imbued with genius. The great man was equally at ease confronting pace or spin and could manhandle any attack, even in the most troublesome conditions.

For all intents and purposes, he was a cricketing superhero. It was almost as if you could choose any 10 from anywhere, just to make up the numbers, place them in a team with him, and the opposition would still feel like they were in a contest.

I am, of course, referring to Garfield Sobers, the great, the Barbadian national hero; the man widely regarded as cricket’s best all-round player. In 93 Tests he scored 8,032 runs at a staggering 57.78 average. He also captured 235 wickets and took 109 catches. What’s more, he played with an almost unmatched panache that made the game well worth watching.

The first name listed for any world XI ought to be Bradman; the Australian came with a guarantee of big runs almost every game. The second name must be Sobers.

Nobody has approached Sobers’ varied skills, but there have been others who were able to develop all-round abilities that made them indispensable assets; players who could stake serious claims for a team spot as bowler or batter.

In the pantheon of the game’s elite all-rounders, the name closest to Sobers might be Jacques Kallis. The South African was an excellent, if slightly reticent, stroke player and a highly competent pace bowler capable, at his best, of generating alarming velocity. Other members of this rarefied club include Keith Miller, Ian Botham, and Imran Khan.

Looking throughout cricket’s long history, however, it is clear that the true, top-class all-rounder has not emerged all that frequently. This is likely an indication of how taxing the all-rounder’s job can be and how difficult it is to master both batting and bowling, two markedly disparate skills requiring totally dissimilar gifts. To excel at both normally requires a lavish and varied supply of natural gifts along with an adequate expenditure of the time and effort necessary to nurture them to a high level.

Mastering both batting and bowling at the highest level is difficult in the same way that it is difficult for a top-level sprinter to become a top-level long-distance runner or for a pitcher in the major leagues in baseball to also be a champion slugger. Bits-and-pieces players abound, but the genuine article is hard to find.

How often have we heard that an up-and-coming player was shaping up to be the next great all-rounder, the next Ian Botham perhaps or the next Imran Khan? David Capel, Fred Flintoff, Chris Lewis, Shane Watson, among others, were all burdened with the “next great” title. Almost none of them were able to get close to living up to it. A few made valiant attempts. Flintoff, for example, was quite brilliant on occasion, while Ben Stokes, Jason Holder, and Shakib Al Hasan of the more recent generation have had bouts of excellence.

Living up to that kind of billing is difficult. The burden borne by the all-rounder is often taxing, and a few have wilted under the excessive workload. Injury is an athlete’s most unwelcome companion and a number of all-rounders, especially those who bowl fast, have had to contend with more than their fair share. Injury frequently curtailed Australian hopeful Watson’s bowling. Flintoff was also one player often laid low by injury. Would they have spent so much time recovering and in the company of physiotherapists had they concentrated on one discipline instead of two disparate ones?

“Excel at everything…and fail,” is a quote I recently came across in a book, The Myth of Excellence: Why Great Companies Never Try to Be the best at Everything. The authors, Fred Crawford and Ryan Mathews, suggest mastering a few key areas and sticking to them; that it is a fool’s errand for businesses to try and excel in too many areas.

It is often a fool’s errand for sportsmen as well. Only the very sturdily built can handle the weight of being a true all-rounder in the international game. The stress on body and mind will often prove much too substantial to be borne for any protracted period. Could Flintoff have had a long career as a fast bowler had he not carried the burden of being a middle-order batsman as well? Did Watson’s batting suffer because of his exertions as a fast bowler? Baseball great Babe Ruth was a seriously good pitcher in his early days, but as his otherworldly hitting came to the fore, his pitching faded.

Quite correctly, wicketkeepers/batsmen are referred to as all-rounders as well. Gone are the days of the specialist wicketkeepers, the days when keepers were picked primarily for their ability behind the stumps. These days, their ability in front of the stumps is at least as important. Teams are not now looking for the next Alan Knott or the next Jack Russell — great keepers but ordinary batsmen. They’re looking for the next Adam Gilchrist or the next Andy Flower — great batsmen who were adequate behind the stumps.

Keeping wicket and batting are not as dissimilar as batting and bowling. The gifts that affords one to become a good batsman — eyesight, reflexes, coordination, etc — helps with wicketkeeping as well. But then there is, again, the workload, and the predicament that keeping duties could hamper a player’s development and production as a batsman.

Kumar Sangakarra, for instance, averaged 40.48 in Test matches in which he stood behind the stumps, and 69.35 when he did not. In the 82 Tests that Alec Stewart played as keeper, he averaged 34.82; in his other 51 Tests he averaged 46.7. For Brendon McCallum, the numbers are 34.18 while keeping, as opposed to 43.9 when not encumbered with keeping duties.

And so, whether it’s the heavy workload or the difficulty in nurturing and mastering two activities with little in common, it is no surprise that the top-quality all-rounder is indeed a special specimen. It is difficult enough to master one discipline at the highest level. Truly mastering more than one is well-nigh impossible and only a few succeed doing it.

Sobers was the greatest. The West Indies were lucky to have him.

Garfield Robinson is a Jamaican living in the US who writes on cricket for a few Indian and English publications. Send comments to the Jamaica Observer or garfield.v.robinson@gmail.com.

Garfield Robinson