Taunton, 3 April 2026. Somerset are hosting Nottinghamshire, the defending county champions, in their first fixture of the new season and are 20 for two having been sent into bat. It’s murky and cold. The batters wear cable-knit sweaters and the spectators in the crowd have wisely decided not to eschew their winter coats. Plenty peer out at the action from under tightly drawn hoods.
The hulking Notts fast bowler Dillon Pennington steams in towards Somerset’s James Rew. The pitch is lush and only a shade less green than the uncut strips either side, more “Shrek’s forehead” than “Kermit’s belly” in cricket’s internationally recognised Pitch Greenness Scale™. By August it will be paler, baked and cracked – you guessed it, “Yoda’s shin”. For now, though, the conditions suggest everything is in the fielding side’s favour. Rew taps his bat and blinks towards the bowler.
Cup an ear and you can just about hear the ghosts of old pros intoning on the chill breeze: “Never cover drive in April.” Those men of years past who relied on runs for their income knew that the shot wasn’t worth the risk, especially not on treacherous springtime loam as yet unhardened by the sun. In years gone by the cover drive remained the flashy preserve of the gentleman player: a fine edge to the slips or keeper wouldn’t cost them any sleep, or any money. The professional knew different. Put it away. Lock it up. A cover drive before the height of summer? It’s not worth the risk.
No one told Rew. Pennington sends down a full ball just outside the line of off-stump and, in a split second, Rew springs to life, pouncing forward like some ruddy cheeked D’Artagnan, thrusting his rapier to drive the ball all along the ground to the boundary. Rew holds the pose as the ball bisects the fielders, just in case you were in any doubt as to the balance and poise he has just displayed.
“The cover drive is not like other shots,” writes Jon Hotten. “It is dangerous and beautiful. It is decadent and depraved. It is the purest expression of mastery in batsmanship and it is a destroyer of innings, of matches, of careers. It is addictive, compulsive, indulgent. It makes crowds go ‘aaaahhh’. It makes coaches slam their fists into dressing room walls.”
Speaking of which, let us cast our minds back to lunchtime on day two of the first Ashes Test in Perth in November. England were 59 for one with a second innings lead of 99 when the curse of the cover drive struck. Ollie Pope and Harry Brook were both caught driving outside off-stump to Scott Boland before Joe Root was bowled attempting the same to Mitchell Starc. Root is a sumptuous cover driver but also, crucially, a discerning one. You don’t chalk up nigh-on 14,000 Test runs by being reckless. His wicket was the gut punch. You kind of expect it from the rest, but not from him. Seeing Root get out in such a fashion was akin to witnessing the “sensible one” on the stag do dancing on the bar with his top off. And just after lunch too.
