I’ve always enjoyed sport,  but there has been a common thread running  through my endeavours in just about every one  – I have been unfailingly and spectacularly  hopeless.  And probably the pinnacle of my ineptitude was reached  in the school cricket team, where I was brought in to perform a crucial role I’d successfully executed in a number of  sports teams in the past – make up the numbers.

When you bat at number eleven and are told to field “as close to the boundary as possible”, you  are only too painfully aware of your place in the pecking order. But it wasn’t all bad.  The highlight of my  ‘career’, aside  from an unbeaten 12 runs at the tail end of a game we’d already lost, was an incredible three wickets in a single over against the best team in the area. Sounds impressive doesn’t it? Unfortunately, the detail removes a bit of the gloss.

Oakwood was probably the most upmarket school in town at the time, and they had a number of junior county players in their team. Although we had a few decent players ourselves, we weren’t  having a great deal of success with the ball, and for reasons I still don’t understand, our captain  asked me to bowl. This had never happened before. I suspect he figured that if we couldn’t get them out by conventional means,  we’d attempt to confuse them. It was to be an inspired move.

My first two deliveries were no-balls, but with the next I took a wicket. Two more wickets and two more no-balls were to follow before the over was complete.  My first victim was caught just inside the boundary rope,  trying to hit a slow paced full toss for a six, and with the very next ball my second  victim went in exactly the same way. The third man taking the long walk back to the pavilion  was so stunned that I got a ball anywhere near the wicket, that he missed it altogether and was clean bowled. The ball was moving so slowly by the time it reached the stumps that it was touch and go whether there was enough forward momentum to remove the bails.

It’s probably the only time in cricket history where a bowler has taken three wickets in six balls (well ten if you include the no balls) and not been given another over. A ridiculous decision in my view. I clearly had them worried.

Another game that sticks out in my mind was against a team from a neighbouring school called Park House. Now our team was hardly posh or well turned out, but this lot made us look like the Eton College First X1. They hardly had a piece of white kit between them, and most of the team had quite clearly been press ganged into playing under threat of detention or worse.

They won the toss and decided to bat. Their opening batsman came to the crease and casually took up a stance to face the bowling. “Don’t you want a guard son?”  asked our PE teacher who was umpiring from the other end. “It’s alright sir,” said the hapless lad grabbing his crutch with his left hand, in a move reminiscent of Michael Jackson circa 1984,  “I’m already wearing one.” I sensed this was a game in which I might make some runs.

They were all out for  thirty five, and perhaps in a sporting attempt to give them a chance, I was put in at number three –  a position normally reserved for batsmen who had reached double figures more than once. This was my big opportunity. I strode confidently to the crease and took a guard of middle and leg. There was to be no embarrassing equipment faux pas for me. I was already imagining stroking ball after ball to the boundary, a ripple of applause rising up  from my team mates with each one. The first ball was to bring me crashing back down to reality.

The bowler, wearing baggy black school trousers and a yellow Adidas T shirt took a short run up and released the ball. – about half a second too early. It took an almost vertical trajectory before eventually coming down about four feet from the bone-hard crease. As it bounced I look a massive swing at it, missed completely and the ball landed softly between my leg and pad. The bowler turned away, disinterested.

“Aren’t you going to appeal, son?” asked our umpiring PE teacher.

I know they were useless, but I was useless too. Who’s bloody side was he on?

Anyway, the bowler looked blankly towards his captain for help, a lad who I suspect has been chosen more for his ownership of a pair of white trousers than his cricket prowess. The fact that they were high waisted flares akin to those worn by John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever had been judicially overlooked.

“Ah think tha’ supposed to say Arse Hat or summat like that”, he offered by way of assistance.

The bowler shrugged and turned to the umpire, “Erm…Arse hat?” he said  meekly. It was more of a question than an appeal, and as an afterthought, he self consciously pointed to his backside and his head by way of illustration . It had the desired effect. My disloyal PE teacher raised his finger and I was out – Leg before wicket. My big chance was gone, and my cricket career hit a new low.

I never  had much involvement in cricket after school.  It was obvious that I had no aptitude for it, and any game in which half the fielding positions are prefixed by the word ‘silly’ just has to be something avoided by any sensible adult.   But I got to thinking about the game the other day, and  I reckon there are some interesting parallels with the world of entrepreneurship and business. And the most interesting one is specialisation.

You see, in a cricket team there are specialist batsmen, fast bowlers, seam bowlers, spin bowlers, wicket keepers and close fielders. Yes you have so called ‘all rounders’, but they are rarely the best at any one thing. The team is made up of  carefully selected combination of specialists, with one or two all rounders thrown in as support for the specialists. An enterprise could (or should) be a lot like this.

Whatever the processes or tasks in your business, they will be achieved quicker, and with a lot more certainty, if they are tackled by people who specialise in that particular field. Just as you don’t want your star batsman leading the bowling, you  don’t want an accountant writing your sales letters. He might make a reasonable job of it, but it’s more likely that he won’t.

I know what you might be thinking here…perhaps that you work alone or in a partnership – that you don’t employ a team of specialists. Well exactly the same logic still applies. If you’re a one -man-band trying to do everything yourself, you will ultimately fall short. Why? Because you will be in competition with enterprises that use a team of specialists, and they will do pretty much everything just a little bit better than you. It’s like putting a team of all-rounders against a team of specialist batsmen and bowlers. Nine times out of then, they’re going to lose.

So what’s to be done?

Well no matter how small your enterprise, I’d urge you to consider using specialist help for the key aspects of your business outside of your personal area of expertise. Only you know what these are for your business. It’s false economy to try to do everything yourself. Not only will you be slower and  perform worse in most of the peripheral tasks associated with your business, but you will become distracted from what you’re truly good at. You see, many businesses are started by people with a talent or a passion – people who then spend 95% of their time doing ‘other stuff ‘that needs doing.

That talent or passion could be related to design, product creation, service delivery, marketing or something else, but  it’s usually something that’s absolutely pivotal to the success of the business. Focus your time and efforts on what you do best, and then get others to do what they do best. That way you have the makings of a winning team.

Now this doesn’t mean you have to go out and employ a load of staff.  There are more sub contact services available to small businesses today  than ever before.  No matter whether you need help with design, production, administration, bookkeeping, legalities, customer service, web design, marketing or something else, a  simple solution is just a Google click away.

Sound expensive? Well not nearly as expensive as the false economy that is characterised by trying to do everything yourself and distracting yourself from that at which you truly excel.  If your top fast bowler is forced to field in the slips, he’s not going to take many wickets. If your top batsman is mixing the orange juice in the pavilion, he’s not going to make many runs…

And if your top marketing man is paying invoices he’s not going to make many sales.

Do what you do best, and pay someone else to do everything else. They’ll do it quicker and better, and you’ll be freed up to do whatever it was that motivated you to set up the business in the first place. And when that happens, you’ll make a great deal more money.

Arse Hat!  as  they say in all the best cricketing circles.