“I lived for a year in Splott just on the south side of Cardiff. Of course, the locals pronounce it ‘Sp-low’ not ‘Sp-lott’ which gives it a whiff of something a bit more salubrious.”
Listeners familiar with the lilting sing-song of Jeremy Coney’s Kiwi accent will note that that final “salubrious” lasts a beat or two longer, its syllables rolled around and luxuriated, given the full Jeremy Coney treatment. There has been no sign of his favoured “parsimonious” during the course of what runs to a two-hour chat with the former New Zealand captain turned broadcaster and commentator, though “lugubrious” and “nefarious” are pleasingly deployed within the first few minutes of us sitting down.
A man of words and actions, Coney has been in demand on the airwaves around the globe for the past 30 years, his erudite and entertaining commentary revealing a remarkable cricket brain no doubt honed during his time as a player. Coney captained New Zealand in 15 of his 52 Test matches and oversaw the transition in the mid-80s of a rag-tag kit sponsor-less Kiwi side made up of amateurs (Coney was a teacher, other teammates were labourers – John Bracewell was a grave-digger) to one that claimed a landmark series win in England as well as home and away victories against Australia.
His side then showed the steel Coney had instilled in them by holding their own against the firepower of the West Indies at home in 1986-7, drawing the series 1-1. Coney is proud of what his team achieved against the odds in a few short years. “Take Ewen Chatfield, here’s a guy who would run the 20km to school in Akitio. Chats learned to bowl in an orchard with apples, not at Lord’s with some ex-England player and the finest facilities money can buy. Those are the sorts of characters we had. John Bracewell – solid, so angry and determined. You need to be when you are digging graves in the cold dirt in Dunedin.”
It’s clear he cares and thinks deeply about the game. For this chat at a cafe in south London, ostensibly about the impending Cricket World Cup, Coney brings a well-thumbed A4 notepad complete with sketches and reams of notes. His cappuccino gets a more vigorous stir than it might have bargained for as he bemoans the modern trend of boundaries being scrimped in the shorter formats. “I hate seeing top-edged sixes off a spinner, you just think – you bastard! Make the pitches as big as possible, make it more enthralling when they happen, not just ‘ho-hum, there’s another six’.” He shows me a diagram he has drawn to emphasise his point. “The biffers can still clear the ropes but it also allows the cruisers to find the gaps, there’s more nuance to the spectacle.”
Coney is a fan of the 50-over game and the World Cup. “It’s still the pinnacle. It’s been the golden goose since the 70s for cricket. The format allows a side to be in a bit of difficulty and pull back in the game – that’s always an interesting aspect to watch. It’s not all one note.”
This isn’t the first reference to music in the conversation. Coney mentions that passages of play in cricket are “staccato” or “presto”, the musicality in his speaking voice perhaps informed by growing up in a musical family in Ngaio, a suburb of Wellington. “We would sing a lot growing up. My brothers and I would be in choirs and we all sang harmony together.” He still plays music once a week at a bar when he is back at home in New Zealand. The famous CLR James quote, “What do they know of cricket who only cricket know?” may well have been written for Coney. He enthusiastically tells stories about his three years anchoring the news and hosting travel programmes on New Zealand television after finishing his playing career. He then juggled his broadcasting commitments with studying in Wales (residing for a year in the aforementioned Splott) for a qualification in stage management and has worked behind the scenes on various professional theatre productions.
Yet, despite his charming company and his voice being easy on the ear, Coney isn’t afraid to say things that people perhaps don’t want to hear. He talks unsparingly about the modern game. “I just think that it seems to be on life support at the moment. It’s meaningless bilateral matches on repeat.”
Notably, seconds after the conclusion of the 2019 World Cup final between New Zealand and England at Lord’s – Coney was on air for Test Match Special and didn’t shy away from stating his opinion that it would have been more fitting for the game to finish in a draw. As his fellow English commentators called the victory, Coney was ushered off air. Four years on he stands by it.
“I think it was probably fair to shift me along!” he chuckles. “I think the overriding wave and the euphoria of the moment trumps anybody who might be saying, hang on, is this the right way? Should this have really happened?
“I said my piece not because it was New Zealand on the losing side but because those two teams had played this incredible game for over eight hours and I just felt that the 22 players couldn’t be split, they’d come out equal after everything. Even Stevens. To me it was just one of the most basic things of the game, that you’ve got to score one more run than the opposition to win. How can you have a winner decided on some measurement that has never been given consideration before? It just didn’t make sense to me and I just felt that that it wasn’t quite the right thing. Call me naive, but it would have been nice to have both teams inscribed on the trophy.”
Coney is back on TMS for the upcoming 50-over series between England and New Zealand, the two sides sizing each other up before they play the opening game of the World Cup at the 132,000-capacity Narendra Modi Stadium in Ahmedabad on 5 October. “You’d have England as favourites a wee bit in that showdown perhaps, but Trent Boult is back with a shiny white thing in his hand and a big score to settle.” Coffee drained, bulging notepad placed back in his knapsack, a rare afternoon off awaits. “As long as the game keeps evolving and improving, that’s what I care about and what attracts me on an intellectual level.” Cricket’s renaissance man is unequivocal as he departs: “You’ve got to keep moving forward.”
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