n the second of our extracts from James Taylor’s new autobiography, the former England batsman recalls his turbulent relationship with Kevin Pietersen - and how his Test debut in 2012 turned horribly sour.
When the second Test against South Africa at Headingley came round, I would be England’s fifth number six of the year.
Jubilation doesn’t quite describe how it felt to receive that call-up. That’s not to say it wasn’t daunting, aged 22, to walk into a dressing room of that stature but Stuart Broad and Graeme Swann made it easier because I’d played with them at Nottinghamshire, and Matt Prior also took me under his wing.
I went out with him, Jimmy and Broady the night before the game. Somewhat foolishly, I tried to go drink for drink with them during the meal. Three or four pints was always enough for me to feel it the next day and sure enough, with South Africa batting first, as I walked onto the field, I duly noted the telltale signs – dry mouth, bit tired. I’d had a couple more than I needed to. How had I managed that?
As it turned out, I had time to recover. South Africa batted for the best part of the first two days, amassing 419. With a few rain breaks it was afternoon on day three when Ian Bell was out cheaply. Then there was that familiar flurry of activity – grabbing the gear, checking I’d got everything, people wishing me luck.
Stepping out on to the Headingley turf, I wondered what sort of reception I was going to receive. I shouldn’t have worried. The cheers of the crowd were all around me. There was also, I think, a definite acknowledgment of my height, especially the juxtaposition between my 5ft 7ins and the 6ft 4ins Kevin Pietersen who I joined at the wicket.
I touched gloves with Kev. He didn’t give me much. “Enjoy it,” he told me. “Do your thing.”
I didn’t really know KP other than as a running joke at Nottinghamshire, where he’d played a few years previously, an association that ended somewhat acrimoniously when then captain Jason Gallian threw his kit off the balcony on the last day of the season. Whenever KP’s name was mentioned in the Nottinghamshire dressing room, everybody would s****** and laugh. Mick Newell, who was at the club at the time of KP’s contract, obviously wasn’t a massive fan because of the turmoil his presence had caused.
I try not to have preconceived ideas about people and so always intended on giving KP a chance. But the early encounters hadn’t been good. When England played Sri Lanka the previous summer, I’d been called up to have a net – a chance for the coaches to see what I was about. I had a session with Graham Gooch and KP was having a net at the same time.
“Hi KP,” I said, “how are you doing?”
“What are you doing here?”
Nothing else, just that.
“I’m just here having a net with Goochy.”
He didn’t say anything else and walked off. The same thing happened at a training session with the England lads. Everyone else came up to me – “How are you doing, Titch?” KP ignored me. He said nothing. It was bizarre.
Whether he was trying to intimidate me and be the big man, or it was him feeling threatened by me, I don’t know. But this was before I’d even met him properly or shared a dressing room. He didn’t know me from a bar of soap but that was how he chose to be.
They say “never meet your heroes”, and if ever there was a classic case, KP was it. I loved the way he played. One of my goals was to play alongside him. But on both occasions I came away thinking, “What a t---.”
‘I found KP’s outburst embarrassing’
Right now, though, here in the middle at Headingley, I was more concerned with my own ability, my own character. I had always had my doubters; now was the time to shut them up, to show on the biggest stage what I was about.
The South Africans must have been thinking, “Who is this little guy? What is he doing?” I played at a wide one first up, which I probably shouldn’t have done, but any nerves were settled when I got off the mark with a textbook off drive four from the spinner Imran Tahir. That was pretty much my plan for that whole innings: be patient against the seamers if I needed to and be more attacking against the spinners.
I batted fairly cautiously as we built a partnership, reflecting the position of the game, but KP was having none of that. He provided an amazing display of hitting at the other end, awesome stroke play of a kind that only he was capable.
As the other batsman, it’s not like you can stand and stare dumbstruck and say “Oh my God!”, but make no mistake, I was enjoying watching. It was a proper fireworks display, to the extent that a little bit of me was thinking, “What are you doing, mate? We need to keep our heads down and keep batting!”
But he was just whacking them, playing the innings of his life. Any normal person would never have batted like that but this was KP – he did things as he wanted to do them, and he succeeded.
Contrary to the sheer wizardry of KP’s flashing bat, his conversation wasn’t quite so tantalising. As the partnership progressed, he didn’t talk down to me but was super arrogant. Facing Tahir, KP sauntered down the wicket. “I’m just debating how far to hit this next one,” he said.
We put on a 147-run partnership, which gave the initiative back to England, but I don’t think he really considered me part of it. A few days later I heard that, during the innings, he allegedly commented that I wasn’t going to be on the highlights that night.
His low opinion of me extended into the dressing room. That same day, he apparently slagged me off to other players for not being good enough and batting too slow. At the time I didn’t know anything about it. I was just interested in keeping my head down and getting on with my first Test.
In the end, the game petered out into a draw, but while the Test may have been over, the pantomime was about to start. KP was at the press conference, and he used it to deliver an almighty whine about how tough it was for him as an England cricketer and how the next Test at Lord’s could be his last. “It’s not easy being me in this dressing-room,” he said.
I was with Broady, Jimmy and Matt when his outburst appeared on the television. My instant reaction was I couldn’t believe what I was seeing and it was a reaction shared by everyone else.
That press conference should have been all about KP scoring one of the greatest knocks of all time. Instead it was all “Look at me, feel sorry for me.” It was just awful, exactly what England didn’t need. The state of our dressing room, as seen through one person’s eyes, had just been broadcast to millions.
It transpired that KP thought a spoof Twitter account in his name was being operated from within the dressing room, or with the blessing of certain players, but whatever the rights and wrongs of KP’s position, it’s an absolute given in any team that what happens in the dressing room stays in the dressing room. Why would you want to air your dirty laundry in public? He clearly felt empowered by the fact he’d scored those runs, but his comments were never going to paint him in a great light. After all, there was one very obvious question that people were bound to ask: “Why are they doing this to you, Kevin? There must be a reason.”
It was hard to take in. Playing for England had been my absolute dream. Now, having done it, my overriding thoughts were utter disbelief as to how Kevin had behaved in that press conference. Put simply, I found his antics embarrassing.
‘I couldn’t care less about him - I don’t respect him’
The first I heard that KP had been saying things about me was a few days later when Rhian Evans, the ECB media manager, rang me. I was driving when I saw her name come up on the dashboard.
“Hi Titch, are you all right?”
I was imagining it was just a routine call about a press interview. I was wrong.
“I just thought I’d let you know there’s going to be an article coming out claiming KP had a go at you when he came off the pitch.”
“Oh, it’s all right,’ I said. “It’ll just be the media. They’ll have made it up.”
I put the phone down and genuinely didn’t think anything of it. I didn’t even read the story, I was that unbothered about it. Even if there was something in it, I didn’t care because I didn’t respect KP due to the way he’d behaved around me. The fact I didn’t seek out or read the piece illustrates where I was when it came to Kevin Pietersen.
It was inevitable, though, that I’d find out what he’d been up to. Essentially, even before the game had even started, he was telling the coaches and other players I shouldn’t be in the team, and then that continued during the game itself, despite the fact that my support at the other end had allowed him to play one of the greatest knocks of his career. It explained his attitude prior to the game. While others were welcoming me, helping me settle in, Kev was giving me nothing.
Before the game, a load of new bats arrived for me at the ground from my sponsor adidas. They were top quality, the best I’d ever had. In fact, they would be some of the better bats in the dressing room. Kevin was also sponsored by adidas. He looked at them and gave them back to me. He said nothing. He gave me nothing, full stop.
Kevin admits his opinion of me in his book. “His dad was a jockey and James is built for the same gig.” Classy.
He admits even as he was driving to the game that he rang the England coach Andy Flower and asked, “How on earth have you picked Taylor?” He justifies this opinion by stating, “The poor guy has never been seen again … so I was wrong about Taylor, was I?”
Well, yes mate, you were. And that’s where I am with Kevin Pietersen and his view of me – it makes me laugh. If Andrew Strauss had said those things about me, it would have been awful. It would have really affected me, because I had so much respect for him.
Kevin Pietersen? I couldn’t care less because I don’t respect him. Kevin is a big fish and what came out of his mouth made about as much sense.
No one in the actual England set-up ever really spoke to me about what Kevin had said and done. When it came to the players, many of whom had shared a dressing room with KP for years and knew what he was like, they had one piece of advice: “Ignore it.”
I don’t know who in the England dressing room had leaked Kevin’s antics to the papers, but one thing was for sure, they did it because they’d had enough of him.
I’m not blind to how KP must have felt. I can see that it would be a horrible position for him to be in, to feel alone in the dressing room, but it was a position he’d brought on himself. His presence had long been divisive and had caused serious disjointedness to the side. Add in a tough series against South Africa, losing the first Test heavily, the lads being tired, and one massive ego stamping around in the middle of it all and it was a powder keg just waiting to be ignited.
The England dressing room at that time wasn’t in a good place. KP at that point just didn’t seem a team player. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing when I first experienced being in the same team as him. I couldn’t believe how he behaved or how he didn’t do anything. The scales had well and truly fallen from my eyes.
'Cut Short' by James Taylor is published on June 1 by White Owl Books, price £20.
