KP: The Autobiography by Kevin Pietersen – digested read

http://www.theguardian.com/books/2014/oct/19/kp-the-autobiography-kevin-pieterson-digested

Version 0 of 1.

A Monday morning in February 2014. My cellphone rings. It’s Andy Flower. We need to talk, he says. Already the sentences are as short. As some of my recent innings. Go on then, I reply. The thing is Kevin, he continues. Absolutely everyone who has ever played with you thinks you are a complete cunt.

Silence. Another silence. After all I’ve given English cricket. It’s come to this. People should be ashamed of themselves. I’m mentioning no names here. But you know who you are. Flowery, Straussy, Cooky, Swanny, Broady and Priory. You know what? I said to Flower. What does it say about English cricket if everyone thinks I’m a complete cunt? It says everyone else is a complete cunt.

I’m not one to hold grudges. That’s not the KP way. Never have done. Never will do. But the way I was treated by Flowery, Straussy and Cooky. You wouldn’t treat a dog like that. Especially not one who had done as much for English cricket as me. I love English cricket. I don’t mind saying that. Not as much as I love myself. I don’t mind saying that either. But the way Flowery, Straussy and Cooky went on. It just wasn’t right.

I’ve made some mistakes. I can’t think of any right now. But I’m happy to admit it. I’m not always perfect. It’s not easy being a genius. Having to play alongside mediocrities like Straussy, Cooky, Swanny and Priory. Year in. Year out. People who can’t even recognise talent. Let alone make allowances for it.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not asking for sympathy. I am happy with who I am. But it would have been nice if once. Just once. Flowery had put an arm around my shoulder. And said. I know it’s tough for you, Kevin. You were an oppressed minority in your own country. You had to leave your homeland to get an even break. Thank you. Thank you for all you have done. That wouldn’t have been so hard. Would it?

I love playing cricket. Cricket is written in my DNA. But so are respect and gratitude. Qualities that have gone missing in many modern cricketers. Like Straussy, Cooky and Broady. I’m proud of my record. I’m proud of singlehandedly winning the Ashes on three occasions. It would be nice if a few others remembered how much their careers owed to my performances. I’m not asking for gratitude. But a thank-you would be nice.

Do you know what I’m most proud of, though? It’s marrying Jess and starting a family with her. I reached out to Jess when Liberty X were on the skids. It would have been nice if Flower could have done the same to me. When my career was on the skids. Not that it ever has been on the skids. Being present at the birth of my son Dylan was a turning point. Before then I only thought I was a genius. Afterwards I knew it. Genius. It’s one of those things you either have. Or you don’t. I do. I would never have forgiven myself. If I hadn’t flown home. To let Dylan set eyes on me.

Twitter. I don’t really know much about it. I can take it or leave it. You can imagine how surprised I was then. To find there was an account called KPGenius. Initially I loved it. Because it seemed to express my thoughts. Before I had had them. Then someone told me it was my teammates having a joke. I’ve got as much of a sense of humour as the next South African. But I didn’t find that funny. It’s upsetting to discover your colleagues are laughing at you behind your back. As well as to your face.

The problem was jealousy. People couldn’t cope with Kev.I.Am. The good looks. The talent. The money. I’m not ashamed to say I enjoy the IPL. There people say. Kevin. You are the best. Rahul Dravid once told me his batting secret. Head down and block it, Kapes. I won’t ever forget that piece of generosity. If Flowery had done that even once. I might still be playing for England.

All these years. I’ve never complained. I’ve been happy putting England first. Even when I’ve had to play with losers like Straussy, Cooky, Broady and Swanny. I’ve nothing against any of them. I will have a beer with them any time. Water under the bridge. I’ve forgiven, forgotten and moved on from the false accusations of texting my mates in the South African side. It was BBM. Fuck you, doos. Get your facts straight next time.

I understand that most people don’t know how to handle my genius. I’m not complaining about that. All I’ve ever wanted was for English cricket to be the best in the world. I’m just sorry no one will ever get to see the likes of me again. If only everyone else felt the same way.

Digested read, digested: I need to talk about Kevin.