The Cult: Monty Panesar

When it was announced earlier this month that Monty Panesar would be linking up with the Northamptonshire squad for the new county cricket season, supporters were delighted. Some were pleased to see a talented spin bowler return to the county where he started his first-class career; others were relieved to see Monty overcome the off-the-field issues that have plagued him in recent years.

Likewise, some were simply glad to see a cult hero return to the wicket – and there are few sportsmen with cult hero status quite like that of Monty Panesar.

If you were to take a particularly brusque glance at Panesar's career, it might seem like little more than an elaborate comedy sketch. Ever since his first few test matches with England, Monty has been the butt of near incessant joking, clowning and general silliness from the stands. The vast majority of this has been intended fondly, the sort of lighthearted comedy that defines the cult hero's relationship with his supporters. Nonetheless, it has often been difficult for Panesar to cope with – both from a professional point of view and a personal one.

The inspiration for Monty's cult hero status stems, in part, from the deficiencies in his game. In stereotypically English fashion, many fans fell in love with him for his worst moments of ineptitude and cack-handedness as opposed to the things he was actually good at. Not the best fielder out there, fans got into the habit of celebrating wildly every time he completed even the most rudimentary of fielding tasks. His batting was similarly weak and – when he did manage to play a decent lower-order innings – his successful shots were often greeted by ironic cheering from those watching on.

Many, including Monty himself, started to feel that he was a figure of fun amongst spectators. This wasn't helped when commentator Henry Blofeld accidentally called him Monty Python on Test Match Special, and fans immediately dubbed him "The Python". For those in the stands, this was a sign of affection. For Panesar, it must have been hard to distinguish affection from derision – or worse.

It's impossible not to feel that Panesar's cult hero status is also down, in part, to his perceived novelty. Monty was an anomaly in the England team of the mid 2000s, one of a select few players of Asian origin included in the squad. Not only was Panesar of Punjabi descent, he was also a practising Sikh. His uncut beard and ever-present patka marked him out from his teammates. All of this attracted attention to him, and consequently increased the pressures of the game.

In his early days at Northamptonshire, fans started to attend matches wearing makeshift patkas and fake beards. When England supporters followed suit, the press dubbed the trend "Monty Mania". While Panesar wrote in his 2010 autobiography that the sight of spectators in fancy dress made him chuckle, he also described it as "hard to fathom". Did these homages represent genuine admiration? Or were they ironical, just another part of the endless piss take at the awkward outsider's expense?

Amongst the many waggish nicknames for Monty, "The Sultan" and "The Sikh of Tweak" were two of the most popular. Though there's no doubt that supporters took Panesar to their hearts, his background became intrinsically tied up in his standing amongst them. At times, he was treated almost like a curiosity. It's hard to tell whether he first became a cult hero for his farcical fielding errors, or simply because he was different from the rest.

The problem with all this wasn't that it was insensitive or in bad taste per se, but that it created a facade that stifled the nuanced, complex and often troubled character beneath. Panesar's imagined persona – his supposed comedy value – chimed discordantly with his actual life. Monty was in many ways an earnest and sensitive man. Unlike his fans, he treated his religion with the utmost seriousness. In a 2006 interview with the Sunday Times, he said of his faith: "I follow Sikhism, and maybe I've channelled the discipline that religion creates into my cricket. There's discipline with any religion, and you can take it into a game or into anything else."

Moreover, he was incredibly serious about his cricket. Widely described as one of the best trainers in the England squad, he was constantly trying to improve those aspects of his game that had been so widely ridiculed. He might have been able to take the jokes, but that doesn't mean he was contented with carrying on in the same vein.

More problematic still were the personal issues he encountered later in his career. In 2011, Monty was arrested and interviewed by police after an angry argument with his wife, Gursharan Rattan, in a pub car park. Though he was subsequently released without charge, his behind-the-scenes difficulties were suddenly brought centre stage. The couple divorced in 2013 and, not long afterwards, Panesar was arrested for urinating in public and being drunk and disorderly.

Having been ejected from Brighton's Shooshh Club – reportedly for harassing a group of women – he then went up to the promenade above the venue and attempted to relieve himself onto the bouncers below. He was pursued to a pizza parlour, restrained, handed over to the police and promptly given a fixed penalty notice. As troubling as the harassment aspect of this incident is, many portrayed it as yet another slapstick episode in his zany career. In hindsight, it looks more like the destructive flailing of a deeply unhappy man.

In the summer of 2015, Monty was released from Essex – the county he'd been playing with since 2013 – on account of poor form and limited appearances. In December, he gave an interview to the Guardian discussing the poor state of his mental health over the previous few years, and his struggle with "paranoid thinking". He said: "I was low on confidence, in denial and did not engage with team-mates or coaches. The world felt against me and I gave over-the-top reactions to small things."

He went on to claim that he'd considered retiring from cricket altogether at one point. "I fell out of love with the game and life in general," he said, with painful candour. Understood in the context of this personal crisis, the fact that Panesar has decided to continue playing with Northamptonshire is a genuine cause for celebration.

Though Panesar certainly wasn't an all rounder, he was – at times – a truly magnificent bowler. A left-arm finger spinner who could manipulate a cricket ball better than Uri Geller manipulated spoons, he earned his inclusion in the England squad by tearing up first-class wickets at cricket grounds up and down the country. Though he was something of a mercurial bowler – far superior on pitches with bounce, sometimes a tad repetitive in his approach – he could be absolutely lethal when his stars aligned. Duncan Fletcher, England coach between 1999 and 2007, described Panesar in his pomp as "the best finger spinner in the world."

Panesar was part of two Ashes-winning England sides. He was Wisden Cricketer of the Year in 2007. He has 704 first-class wickets to his name, at the highly respectable average of 30.83. He has taken 167 Test wickets in his career, and has achieved a five-wicket haul in an innings a whopping 12 times. In 2012, mere months before his last selection for England, Monty took a prodigious 11 wickets in the second Test against India in Mumbai.

He was prone to dud matches, he was prone to the odd expensive innings but, overall, the calibre of his bowling speaks for itself.

It's this side of Monty's game – the true quality – that tends to sink beneath the morass of silly nicknames, fancy dress and ironic cheering. That can't be easy for a man who's achieved so much, and who deserves to be recognised for his achievements.

Selected for the 2009 Ashes series, Monty went into the First Test in Cardiff in top form. The game would prove to be his finest hour; it would also serve to epitomise his temperamental brilliance.

Monty and fellow bowler Graeme Swann failed to break down Australia's top order with their bowling, and England's opponents built up an unassailable lead. With the English batsmen in similar disarray, Monty came out on to the crease to form a desperate last-man batting partnership with designated nightwatchman James Anderson. Nobody gave them a chance of withstanding Australia's bowlers long enough to secure a draw for England, especially given Monty's reputation. Nonetheless, in a typically mercurial display, Panesar surprised everyone – not least the Australians.

Having gone out to bat with 11 overs left to play, despite numerous hairy moments and near misses, Panesar and Anderson managed to survive until the end of the day and secure England an unlikely draw. Monty had batted doggedly, stoically and, most of all, bravely. Universally considered to be England's worst batting option, he was – for one day at least – a saviour at the stumps.

England went on to win the series 2-1. The draw in Cardiff was crucial to their victory, and Monty had played his part to imperfect perfection.

Looking back on Panesar's career, there's a sense in which Monty the cricketer, Monty the bowler and Monty the man have been overshadowed by the looming facade of Monty the cult hero. Speaking to the Guardian about his poor mental health, Panesar articulated the curse of the fan favourite – the novelty outsider – with remarkable eloquence: "At times I thought I was a figure of fun, which isn't always easy," he said.

"But I always tried my best and always practised really hard. If that's not good enough for other people, so be it."