CRICKET: Billy feels power when he pulls digit out

26th November 2009

IT'S THE dimly lit lounge of the Nelson Park pavilion in Napier and everything is moving as one would expect.

Well, almost everything, as people find out, doing a double take at a man sitting on a table in a central location, hunched like a preying mantis as he massages his laptop keys.

The crop of curly black hair, uncharacteristically devoid of a wide-brimmed hat, shows wisps of streaky white strands but there's no mistaking Billy Bowden, the zany New Zealand umpire who brings joy to cricket aficionados throughout the world. Maybe not to the retired sheik of tweak, Shane Warne, and hordes of Ockers, but that's another story and we won't go there today.

The Central Districts Stags are playing a warm-up game against Auckland but Bowden's isn't showing any interest. Today he has an audience of one - SportToday - but that doesn't mean his off-field antics are any less entertaining than his on-field ones.

"I'm 46 and a very young one at that," he manages, eyes still glued to the laptop.

Later he reveals he's a Nafa (Nothing against friendly Aucklanders) and the son of a preacher man ("PK - a preacher's kid - I've been at a Christian home all my life.").

But witticism aside, the man with the famous crooked finger batsmen dread at the crease, is on a crusade to promote the joys and rewards of officiating.

"It's a career path for those who want to covet for themselves the best seat in the house.

"You don't have to love the game but just believe you can give something back, then the association would love to hear from you on 0508umpire."

He, Tony Hill, 58, and David Quested, 70 - he points to the pair on the field in front of him - are the country's most experienced umpires.

Boasting more than 200 one-day internationals and more than 70 test matches between them, Bowden says controlling about nine matches a year leaves them mentally and physically drained.

For those who cannot enjoy fulltime sport because of injuries or health issues, it's a good way to get back into the thick of the action.

"You can never have enough umpires, and quality ones at that."

is no game but, he emphasises, starting a game without umpires is also a recipe for chaos.

The International Cricket Council (ICC) and sponsors had looked after him well.

"I'll probably stay in the game as long as I'm motivated. It's a high-powered, stressful job but you get paid well for what you do," he explains of a profession that offers a three-tiered elite, reserve and regional panel under the umbrella of the New Zealand Cricket Umpires Observation.

"If you make the international elite panel then you travel around the world, follow the sun and have some fun. That's what life's all about and it challenges people to be the best they can be."

Cricket umpires total 500 in a country that boasts 32 million sheep, he says.

"I like to be greedy and see more Kiwis coming through."

First playing the game as a 5-year-old "jive grasshopper", Bowden was an accomplished age-group cricketer captaining future Black Caps Willy Watson and New Zealand Cricket chief executive Justin Vaughan at Westlake Boys' High School. He also played first XV rugby at first five-eighth, inside future All Black Frano Botica.

His widely publicised case of arthritis got to him at the age of 21, curtailing his enjoyment factor. A mentor for 25 years suggested he try umpiring.

"I didn't listen to my mum [the late Jeanette Bowden] and dad [Marcus Bowden], and for once I did, and I'm deeply grateful," says the youngest of four Bowden children.

He acquired the nickname Billy at secondary school, his antics leading friends to call him that, as in Billy the Kid.

Having made his umpiring ODI debut in March 1995 in Hamilton and his test debut at Eden Park in March 2002, Bowden believes umpires are there for players to put under pressure.

"If you don't ask, then you won't receive," he quips. "It's very powerful - show your index finger and they walk."

He derives immense pleasure from knowing that sticking one's finger up like that in public can have dire consequences.

Umpires, he stresses, are neutral.

"Our thing is getting decisions right with boos and jeers ... we're the third team that upholds the spirit of cricket."

Staying true to himself, family, friends and the "Big G" (God) is pivotal in influencing his decisions.

"You can fool some people sometimes but not all and definitely not the Big G. You can't judge people but you do make decisions on the crease," he says, claiming it's hard to pinpoint highlights in a game where each delivery and shot are different.

"Every ball or two or three has your name on it. Cricket's not a perfect hundred and you can be out on the first ball, so there's no easy decision."

Nevertheless, a wicket on the pad or leg side is testing because an umpire often doesn't see or hear much and, consequently, the benefit of doubt always goes to the batsman.

"The whole position goes to the sixth sense. Earlier [in the career] it's black and white, see and hear, but the sixth sense takes time.

"An umpire is slow to speak, quick to hear and slow to anger," says Bowden, who often gets frustrated but is never irate.

Earning players' respect takes time but, he says, umpires must realise they are not there to be liked.

Players, coaches and fans might want umpires to get it right all the time but that's not always possible.

"There's only one honest person out there all the time - yeah, the big G - and he's not walking."

Cricket, he says, is not the be-all-and-end-all of life. He lives according to the three "Fs" of faith, friends and family.

So time with his wife, Jenny, 36, a nutritionist, and his two children from his first marriage, Brooke, 19, and Fraser, 16, is treasured.

"Brooke Fraser [after the Kiwi singer and daughter of ex-All Black Bernie Fraser], get it, get it?

"No, I named them before she was on the scene," he qualifies, adding he gets on with his "ex , Kim, like a house on fire".

As the interview ends, he asks if I'll let him read the article before it is published but I tell him he'll have to trust me and, besides, it's not company policy.

"You'll have a perfect article then, no mistakes," he persists.

I reply: "Aha, you know and I know only the Big G is perfect, Billy."

He throws his head back, laughs, and let's it slide this time.