Mitchell Johnson, the ultimate entertainer

The past 24 hours have provided an opportunity to reminisce on the beguiling career of Mitchell Johnson, who retired from international cricket on Tuesday. Even after having time to reflect, I can’t quite comprehend Johnson’s rollercoaster career. It was electrifying but exasperating. Brilliant but bewildering!

As an Australian cricket observer, Johnson was the most frustrating player I’ve followed — although Shane Watson came very close. He ended his career with 313 wickets from 73 Tests at an average of 28. Only the hallowed names of Shane Warne, Glenn McGrath and Dennis Lillee are ahead of Johnson on Australia’s Test wickets list. Despite being loftily perched, it’s hard to declare Johnson an all-timer. He’s not a great, even though Johnson impersonated being one during several notable stints.

Simply, Johnson was the most mercurial bowler of his generation. I don’t think anyone else really comes close. Watson could be classified in the same category but, truth be told, he was never particularly good at Test cricket. Ditto for Shahid Afridi.

Perhaps Brett Lee, ironically a player Johnson idolised, also tapped into that frustrating temperamental brilliance but the blonde bombshell never reached the lofty heights of the left-armer, not in Tests anyway. Johnson had the higher ceiling. Undoubtedly, few pacemen have matched Johnson’s eclectic skillset.

There really isn’t anyone who compares to Johnson. There have been many maddening players over the years, but no one quite had the jarring gulf of performances quite like Johnson.

He had two magical stints of greatness in 2008-09 and 2013-14, where Johnson incredibly claimed 116 wickets in 16 Tests at an average of 16 when combining those stretches. Considering the opposition — South Africa featured in nine of those Tests — and the unbridled hostility complete with breaking bones and egos of numerous high-calibre batsmen, it’s not a stretch of hyperbole to say those stretches of brilliance were the best sustained pace bowling ever seen in Tests.

In the past nine years, South Africa have lost only two Test series from the 30 they’ve contested before their current series in India. They lost to Australia at home in 2009 and 2014. Essentially, Johnson almost single-handedly defeated those impregnable South African teams boasting some of the greatest batsmen of the modern era.

Johnson carried an inferior team to victory on both occasions. His 37 wickets in the 2013-14 Ashes were more memorable, producing so many unforgettable images, but Johnson’s ability to conquer such a stout and talented South African team, not once but twice, is clearly his greatest achievement.

Unfortunately for South Africa, on both occasions they confronted Johnson at his absolute peak; when body, mind and spirit so memorably meshed. When he was feeling it, with everything in sync, Johnson was not only unplayable, but batsmen were petrified to face him. Few bowlers have exuded that type of intimidation, especially in a modern era where batsmen have become the aggressors.

For whatever reason, Johnson was unable to sustain that white hot form. Take out that virtuoso 16 Tests and Johnson’s career is fairly middling: 196 wickets in 57 Tests at an average of 35. Since that aforementioned great series in South Africa in early 2014, Johnson claimed just 48 wickets in 15 Tests at 37. He could still summon the occasional burst of magic — notably at Lord’s and at the Gabba just recently — but it was increasingly becoming sporadic.

It’s not just that he was inconsistent; Johnson’s single-minded approach to fast bowling was fire and brimstone. It’s true, he did add swing later in his career, including a deadly in-swinger that made him truly unplayable.Johnson was a bowler who generally needed favourable conditions to be effective.

He was a handful on tracks with juice due to his knack of making the ball dangerously rear off the pitch. Testament to that, Johnson claimed 212 wickets from 42 Tests at an average of 25 in matches he played in Australia and South Africa, where pitches were generally faster and bouncier.

He was unable to be particularly useful on slower and lower pitches in England and the sub-continent. Johnson’s future was uncertain, not just because he recently reached the tentative age of 34 for pacemen, but because Australian pitches, even the once famed bowling nirvana of the Waca, have shockingly transformed into being a graveyard for bowlers.

At the post match press conference, you could sense the burden being off Johnson’s shoulders. He looked very much at peace with his decision. Apart from when he paid tribute to his wife, Johnson’s voice never wavered. Revealingly, Johnson said he knew his career was at the crossroads in recent months.

He had spoken with Lillee, his mentor, about how to approach the twilight of his career. Johnson knew it was inevitable that he could no longer rely on his explosiveness. He would have to reinvent himself into a craftier bowler, much like Lillee did in the early 1980s.

But Johnson never wanted to be a cunning bowler. It wasn’t in his makeup. “Dennis (Lillee) said I still had another three or four years left, but I needed to change my bowling… move the ball more,” Johnson said in the press conference. “But I only want to bowl fast.”

It helps explain why Johnson wasn’t quite the complete package, even though he had the tools to become a dangerous all-round bowler. To be legitimately considered a great, a bowler has to adapt to all conditions and situations. Johnson couldn’t, not often enough anyway.

Still, in some ways, it’s trivial squabbling over legacies and whether players reached their potential. More importantly, Johnson was always compelling and entertaining. You always wanted to watch him bowl, and even bat, because anything could happen.

He could take five wickets in as many overs or implode so shockingly that he would start ambling into the crease like someone who had been deprived of sleep for days. There was rarely anything in between, although he did become more consistent during his late-career renaissance.

His innate ability to make cricket more gripping and fun to watch explains the outpouring of emotion these last 24 hours. Johnson spawned some of cricket’s most visceral images. But he was also on the receiving end of some stinging blows, including the continual barbs from the Barmy Army over the years.

Cricket seems, at least right now, a little less manic without Johnson. Juxtaposing his on-field stereotype as an intimidator, reinforced by his menacing moustache, Johnson’s a shy guy at heart. Perhaps, it wasn’t ever his intention, but Mitchell Johnson was cricket’s ultimate entertainer. For better or worse!

By Tristan Lavalette