I keep an empty tin can in my cricket bag. I hate it but I keep it in there all the same.

Having that can makes me thrilled and terrified to be a death bowler; to find out why I need to tell you a story.

Two seasons ago I was my team’s reluctant death bowler. Frankly, I was poor. Despite leaking runs we didn’t have a good bowler to take my place. My team were stuck with me. I would stand at the top of my mark in the last few over dreading how my figures would look.

I was letting the team down by giving momentum to our opponents. If you have played cricket at any level you know how horrible a feeling that is.

I wanted to become an asset to my captain, not a disaster. Being a fast bowler, my role in the team was important. My first spell would be good with the new ball. I bowled with decent pace and swing. I took wickets.

Then I would let everyone down by giving away too many runs at the end.

How things turned around

I realised I had to do something. I couldn’t wait for the gods of form to bestow their gift on me. That may never happen.

I decided to watch videos of fast bowlers especially the ones who bowl at the end. I watched Lasith Malinga, Umar Gul, Dale Steyn, James Anderson and many other good bowlers. I noticed what they were doing.

I went alone to practice and with my tin can as a target I would practice yorkers until the sun went down. Every spare moment I had was dedicated to hitting that can.

I started to hate the batsmen who were making me do all this extra practice.

Halfway through my solitary vigil I would spend a few minutes working on my slower ball. It wasn’t a clever ball; I just ran my fingers down the seam to turn an away swinger into an off cutter. I didn’t practice it as much as yorkers but it broke up the painful monotony. I knew all I really had to do was get it straight.

I thought perhaps my plan was too simple. A yorker and a slower ball are hardly world-class.

I still carried on playing but something was happening.

Every week I noticed I was getting better. The boundaries were dropping and the wickets were increasing. I was bowling to a field. I wasn’t giving width.

It wasn’t all perfection but I was feeling better about being a death bowler.

I had been practicing hard for weeks and results were alright if unspectacular. I came on to bowl at the death with the opposition 6 down. I bowled 3 overs, took 3 wickets and went for just 7 runs, sending the number 11’s stump flying backwards with a pinpoint yorker even Malinga would have liked. It was pure hatred.

Later, when I got home I pulled that tin can out of my cricket bag and whispered a word of thanks. I still hate it, but I know what it represents.

Today’s article was written by a club fast bowler with many years experience playing in Pakistan.

For more tips, techniques and drills to become a better death bowler get Beating the Odds: How to Succeed As a Twenty20 Fast Bowler, the online coaching course from Ian Pont.