Following the international retirement of a “reluctant star” last month, Phil Walker, Wisden Cricket Monthly editor-in-chief, says Chris Woakes will be missed this winter and beyond.
There he was, up on stage at The Oval, looking lean and serene in his suit, and with no visible signs of discomfort from the dislocated shoulder he suffered in August, the blow that would end his England career and, in a savage twist of fate, thrust Chris Woakes onto the front pages.
We had gathered, us hacks, for our annual end-of-season lunch. Woakes, two weeks on from publicly confirming the inevitable, was the guest of honour. Uninterested in talking about himself, he shifts a little on stage at all the fevered talk about his shoulder. Conferring some kind of inflated heroism on an act which to him felt entirely sensible does not sit well. He will later say as much in a podcast with WCM magazine editor, Jo Harman-McGowan.
Still, if it bleeds, it leads. When Woakes walked out on that final morning at The Oval, his right arm slinged-up and awkwardly wedged into his England sweater, tiptoeing down the steps to hold up an end to win one final game for his country, the image, absurd in its way, carried all the swooning narrative that we crave from our sporting endeavours.
Forget the sports supplement. Right at the death, Woakes was top billing. (You know you’ve arrived at a strange and uncomfortable place in life when Robert Jenrick is talking about you as some embodiment of British values midway through a bilious speech
Woakes has always been a reluctant star, but not in the brazen way of many modern players, loudly parading their rejection of all media, burying themselves so deep in their vast headphones and mantras about ‘shutting out the noise’ that one wonders if there’s much worth hiding anyway.
His normality makes him different. Just a lower-middle-class state-school boy from Sutton Coldfield, born with a gift for balls, Woakes has always given off a faint vibe of bemusement at the adulation accorded to men – and it still is men, for now – who play games for a living. Unlike many of his peers – indeed, unlike his competitors for the new ball, especially in the second half of his Test career – his ego just doesn’t swing that way. It may help to explain why he’s probably the most loved England cricketer of his generation.
Anyway, after all the fawning, he is asked on stage for his proudest moment on the cricket field. Easy one, he says. The World Cup win in 2019. Nothing can top that.
It’s an interesting choice. White-ball Woakes was the main guy, the attack leader, the first seamer on Eoin Morgan’s teamsheet. While Anderson and Broad lapped it up in Test cricket, Woakes was getting it done in the pale blue of a suddenly thrilling set-up, the headline act on the other stage.
It was Woakes who opened up the semi-final against Australia, nicking off David Warner immediately after Warner had angrily thumped him down the ground. His bowling in that game, three wickets for 20 on his home ground, was enough to make him the Player of the Match. Then in the final he prised open the New Zealanders at Lord’s with another incisive spell, removing Martin Guptill leg-before in his fourth over and finishing with two more wickets as everyone lost their minds. That game took place six-and-a-half years ago now. Just let that sink in for a moment.
His god-tier skills with a white ball have secured him a lot of bags – and hopefully a few more yet, with Woakes planning to play on at domestic level. Yet even here, on ‘the circuit’, the good things have happened incidentally, organically, not as some overarching plan for career growth.
A few years ago, I messaged him on the night of an IPL auction, the first in which he was entered. He said he was hopeful of something, but expecting nothing. He woke up the next morning to find that Kolkata Knight Riders had bought him for $950k.
This winter he will be missed. Previously he’d distanced himself from another Australia tour, pointing to his poor overseas record, and cheerily conceding that he and the Kookaburra ball “just do not get on”.
He would have been on that plane, however. No doubt. Ben Stokes wanted his most senior and accurate bowler for one last dance, on a quintet of Australian pitches which may, ironically, finally suit him. Well, it is not to be. On such moments as a slide to prevent a third run can a champion’s life lurch off the road.
Two years ago, as another testy Ashes staggered to its crescendo, Woakes swung the game to England with a beautiful spell that ripped out Australia’s openers, before returning to nick off Steven Smith – one of the most consequential deliveries he’s ever bowled.
His fourth victim of the innings ensured that Australia’s lower order would ultimately come up short and gave him 19 in three Tests, enough to clinch him the Player of the Series award. Together with Mark Wood, Woakes transformed England’s fortunes, the pair delivering wins in two of the final three.
Yet for all the brilliance of the two Ws, that final afternoon fell instead to the central-character energy of Stuart Broad. Manufacturing his own swansong with a mid-game announcement that it would be his final match, he slipped in with a couple of tail-end wickets to steal the day. As Broad luxuriated in the send-off he’d cultivated and craved, Woakes and Wood chose instead to mention in passing that their personal Ashes had resulted in a tidy little 2-0. Pure class, to the end. His absence will sting this winter. And it’s unlikely to stop there.
This article appears in issue 92 of Wisden Cricket Monthly, an Ashes special, available to buy now.
