Shane Watson could have been great but ended up a comic punching bag instead

From the moment Shane Watson announced his Test retirement, the resulting ridicule was inevitable. Social media nearly melted with a flurry of Watson scorn. The gags were some kind of variation of this: Watto retires, I wonder if he will review it? Of course, this was all entirely predictable. Watson has long been a punching bag. He’s probably been the most ridiculed cricketer since the boom of social media. He’s been low-hanging fruit for all and sundry. [caption id=“attachment_2029027” align=“alignleft” width=“380”]  Shane Watson. AP[/caption] Even on the day he retired from Test career, after a serviceable 59 Tests spanning more than 10 years, Watson was overwhelmingly more mocked than praised. It is hard to remember a noteworthy player – especially a former Australian captain (Watson filled-in for an injured Michael Clarke during the Fourth Test in India in 2013) – who wasn’t lavished with tributes. He was, essentially, treated pretty disrespectfully. Of course, Watson isn’t blameless. His temperamental and selfish public perception was shaped because of his penchant to look crestfallen every time things would go badly for him, and exacerbated by the lunacy of his repeated DRS referrals even when he looked absolutely out. Watson wore his heart on his sleeve; he certainly didn’t mould himself on Steve Waugh’s steely demeanor. Nor did he possess a big effusive smile like the one Michael Clarke always beamed. Whether it was being dismissed, getting hit for a boundary, or something else that didn’t go to plan, Watson’s frustrations were painstakingly etched on his face. Even when he did succeed, like taking a wicket, Watson often undid his good work by celebrating like a buffoon. Watch: Shane Watson’s over-the-top celebration after dismissing Chris Gayle

It was easy to paint him as a prima donna; a childish figure who could never harness his obvious all-round talents. Watson’s lampooning was compounded by the fact that he was a chronic underachiever in Test cricket, the format Australians judge their cricketers on. You could always count on Watson for a laugh at his expense, whether it was for another poorly contested DRS appeal, being inexplicably dismissed in his 20s or 30s or being entangled in an absurd controversy like when he was part of the infamous “Homeworkgate” scandal during Australia’s disastrous tour of India in 2013. [caption id=“attachment_1766777” align=“alignright” width=“380”]  Shane Watson. Getty Images[/caption] But it’s unfair to entirely dismiss his contributions at Test level. It’s true – like so many others - he never lived up to the billing. That’s not entirely his fault. In the early 2000s, Watson was hyped as Australia’s all-rounder saviour. He was groomed by Australian selectors at an early age, probably far too early than he was physically, mentally and technically ready for. Watson played his first ODI three months before his 21st birthday; he debuted at Test level at the age of 23 when Australia was still at its zenith with an abundance of depth. Even during Australia’s golden generation, the one missing ingredient in their team was an all-rounder. A fifth bowler was rarely required because Australia had the likes of McGrath, Warne, Lee and Gillespie to routinely dispose of batting lineups relatively comfortably. But they knew that once those greats retired – particularly McGrath and Warne – Australia would need greater depth in their bowling stocks. Finding a capable all-rounder became a national obsession. Watson seemed to be the ideal choice. He was tallish and strong with a physique more reminiscent of a rugby player. He was capable of batting in the top four, and – in his early days in the professional level – could bowl around 140km/h. He was a tantalising prospect; a player who was hoped to be given the torch from Australia’s golden generation. But it never worked out for Watson, not at Test level anyway. To be clear, he wasn’t as inept as he’s likely to be remembered. He was serviceable. Watson averaged 35 with bat (4 tons; 24 50s) and took 75 wickets at less than 34. He was a solid slip fieldsman too. It wasn’t hard to understand why the selectors were repeatedly allured by Watson. He could dominate with his exquisite driving and crossbat shots. With ball, at worst he was accurate and able to give the frontline bowlers a rest; at best he could swing the ball wickedly and be a genuine wicket taker. Still, after a decade’s worth of mediocrity in Test cricket, Watson’s true talent seemed to lie in clinging to his spot in the Australian team. Until now. Watson’s eclectic skillset best materialised in the shorter formats. He holds Australia’s highest individual ODI score (185 not out off just 96 balls), and has been at times devastating in the T20 level notably in the Indian Premier League. Fortunately, Watson’s expertise in the shorter formats will still be seen in the international arena. The grind of Test cricket and the requisite patience needed to succeed never suited Watson’s volatility, and fragile body. He seemed to overthink situations, yet he still frustratingly almost always got out the same wretched way. In the shorter formats, his role is more simplified. At Test level, Watson was experimented in nearly every position in the top seven, and – perhaps surprisingly – had his most success as an opener (average 42 from 50 innings). It suggested he was most comfortable when facing the new ball and not having to wait around in the dressing room. Watson, the Test cricketer is done for. The walking punchline has copped his last gag in the Baggygreen. He certainly didn’t have the Test career envisioned a decade ago. He’ll always be remembered as a player who underwhelmed; a maligned and somewhat tragic figure. Being the butt of a never ending rehash of jokes is not the legacy he would have hoped for. Still, there is no denying Shane Watson has always made cricket more entertaining when he’s out in the middle.