Cricket: Malcolm's phoenix rises for the Ashes

England bowler's return from the international wilderness is based on a new-found self-belief, he tells Ian Stafford

It is the measure of Devon Malcolm's new-found confidence that when I telephoned him on Sunday night, as requested, to see if a Monday meeting was possible, he told me to come up to Birmingham the following morning. "We'll skittle out the three remaining Warwickshire batsmen, and then we can talk," he told me, with obvious relish in his voice.

And so Derbyshire did, thanks largely to one D Malcolm. Fresh from a useful contribution to England's magnificent victory over Australia in the first Test, Malcolm returned figures of 5 for 85 at Edgbaston in the county match to further his current stock as England's top bowler in the Championship, and set him up nicely for another crack at the Aussies tomorrow at Lord's.

"It's just good, believe me, to be able to go out there and concentrate fully on my cricket and the opposition," he admits, as we sit in a corporate box and survey goings on out in the middle.

This, for the much-maligned 34 year old, is something of a novelty, even if his Test career has spanned eight years, 35 Tests and 124 wickets. He started off his international career well enough, but after playing in 11 Tests against the West Indies, India and New Zealand, he has since been dropped more times than a football by a Scottish goalkeeper. Even his 9 for 7 against South Africa at The Oval three years ago failed to safeguard his long-term future.

"Do you know, I once went through a spell of playing six Tests all against different opposition," he says, with a rueful smile. "After my nine wickets I received loads of calls from friends of mine in cricket who all said: `Now you'll be playing for England for at least the next two years, Dev. You can concentrate on your cricket.' But no, two Tests later, bang, I was gone again."

He shakes his head and stares out at the pitch. "There's been a lot of lost years," he adds. "I should be well over 200 wickets by now in Test matches, but how can you have any confidence in people who make those kind of decisions? When someone drops you after taking nine wickets you have to ask who is being inconsistent here, me or the management?"

You suggest that Malcolm has not always been the most consistent bowler in the past, and that while he is clearly capable of destroying a batting side, he has also been easy prey with some wayward bowling. He accepts this to a point, but then explains why this has been the case.

"I've always been made to feel under pressure as a bowler, because people haven't stuck with me. As soon as I'd been hit for a few runs I immediately felt that I needed to get a wicket or I would be dropped. More often or not, that would be the case. People felt I should be bowling sides out all the time, but that's not my job. My job is to get a few wickets, have the batters hopping around, hit a few fingers, and soften them up for the other bowlers."

He has done well to keep bouncing back into the team, of course. This he puts down to tremendous self-motivation. Yet he admits he was down and out after the well-chronicled misery of the 1995 South Africa tour, when he fell foul of Raymond Illingworth's highly dubious managerial style, was told he could not bowl, was blamed for the last Test, and therefore series, defeat, and returned home a man humiliated and racked with self- doubt.

Even now, 18 months on, and when the whole sorry saga and sniping seems to be finally over, he finds it difficult to address the subject. Up to this point, he has been chirpy during the conversation, but now he shifts uncomfortably in his seat, and spends a lot of time looking down at the floor. "It still hurts a lot," he says. "Even talking about it is very hard for me.

"It was very depressing to see people so calculating and malicious. It's not in my nature to upset anyone, at least off the field. But I was called all sorts of names and was written off."

He pauses again, before delivering a series of short statements, interrupted by yet more quiet moments. "It was a bad winter." Pause. "It was the lowest point of my career." Stare. "My self-esteem and confidence was totally, totally gone." Long sigh.

How low did he reach? "Well, I can tell you that the first game of last season was against Cambridge University," he answers, brightening up. "Normally you look forward to this game because you expect a few wickets. This time, facing those boys, I was petrified. I found it scarier than my first Test match."

Despite all this, his rehabilitation process had begun. "I didn't want to bow out of Test cricket in the way the previous management were trying to portray me," he explains. "I spent a long, long time purging myself of the whole episode. It was very, very difficult to turn it around, but I tried to use all the negativity to strengthen me, and I received a great deal of support from my family."

He ended last season as the leading English wicket-taker, but this was not enough to get him on the winter tour of Zimbabwe and New Zealand. "I never expected to go, either, because of the obstacles. Not with that management. But at least I had my confidence back, and it helped that I knew that, elsewhere, around the world, the top batsmen respected me. Speak to any of them, and they'll tell you so."

If last year was a process of recovery, this season is all about revelling in a new attitude to his cricket. "I've reached the stage now when I'm not really listening to anyone any more, but just backing myself. I've been trying to please everyone before. I listened to all the advice, but the problem was that the advice from everyone was different. I was confused and thinking to myself: `Who the bloody hell can I please here?'"

A benefit this year has also helped his cause, not least because one of his patrons just happens to be Nelson Mandela, a man he first met during the ill-fated South Africa tour. Since then they have lunched together with John Major, who has since been dropped himself.

"I should have been playing an important NatWest match for Derbyshire, but they let me go to London. The President heard about this and said to me: `I heard you guys have a big match today. If you lose, I'll take the blame.' He's sent me a number of letters of support as well, and I will be going to South Africa in October to run a series of coaching clinics in the townships."

First, however, he faces the small matter of an Ashes series, confident that he will be playing a major part in the outcome. "The current management have put faith in the side and are prepared to stick with us, which is great for confidence. I'm in great form, by far the fastest bowler in the country, and I'm expecting to take a nice haul of Aussie wickets.

"I really believe that we can win the Ashes now. I know they'll be coming back at us good and hard, but we'll be adopting the same intense approach at Lord's and intend to nail them good and proper."

Fighting talk, indeed, from a man who was down and out 18 months ago. And if his bowling fails to batter the opposition, then his attempts to sell his benefit wares surely will succeed. As we make our way out of the Edgbaston stand, he insists that I buy a few of his ties and brochures.

"Good quality silk ties," he says, sounding like a Portobello market stallholder. "Show them to your friends." Eventually I manage to escape from Devon's grip with a testing question about the current Derbyshire situation, in the wake of sudden and controversial resignation of the captain, Dean Jones.

"Hey," he says making his way back to his team-mates, "I wasn't even with the team. I was playing for England. All I can say is that I'm upset about the situation, and I'm really surprised, because I didn't think matters had got that bad."

Matters are no longer bad for Devon Malcolm. A big, broad smile has returned to his face, and he cannot wait to get at the Australians once more, happy, for once, that people have belief in him.