Julian Wood is a man ahead of his time. A power-hitting specialist before power-hitting was a thing. He even, with a fair amount of credibility, lays claim to having invented the phrase itself.

He’s worked with the best in the game and cites Liam Livingstone, Carlos Brathwaite and Jonny Bairstow as the best six-hitters to have been on the receiving end of his dogstick. And now it’s my turn.

“I reckon,” I say as I nervously pad up, “that I might be about to be the worst player you’ve ever worked with.”

“Probably,” comes the reply.

Wood’s kitbag is the cricketing equivalent of Q’s lab in James Bond. Heavy bats and light bats. Heavy balls and light balls. Bungee cords, medicine balls, a pro-velocity bat which I can’t even begin to explain, a springed batting tee and a speed gun. Pros will hit a ball off a tee at 85mph. The best will get into the 90s. I manage 69.

A freelance coach for a freelance world, he could be in Basingstoke working in club cricket, or Punjab working in the IPL. Once upon a time, the emphasis Wood put on six-hitting was deemed a novelty. Now it’s deemed a necessity.

After a four-year county career with Hampshire that ended in 1993, Wood spent 20 years coaching before a family holiday to the USA involved a chance meeting with Scott Coolbaugh, hitting coach for Major League Baseball outfit Texas Rangers, where the seeds of transferable skills were sown.

“When I played, I was a shots player,” says Wood. “And I spent my whole career being told, ‘No, you can’t do that,’ because I used to just try and whack it. So as a player I felt restricted. Then when I started coaching I felt restricted as well because it was the same old stuff. Play straight, roll your wrists. Then when T20 came along that just fitted like a glove.

“There’s people who do it as well, they copy, which is fine,” says Wood of his specialism. “I liken it a bit to Coca-Cola. You’ve got Coke and then you’ve got Pepsi and whatever, but everyone comes back to Coke. That’s the original.”

A number of players, such as Middlesex’s Ryan Higgins, swear by him. “ There’s so many players I can think of off the top of my head who loved working with him,” says Higgins. “And I don’t think I’ve ever seen a player who’s worked with him get worse at what he’s trying to teach them to do.”

Challenge accepted.

The session starts with the speed gun to set a baseline. Using a thin bat, you whack the ball off a tee and a number pops up. It is as demoralising as it is enjoyable. Enjoyable, because you’re standing in a net whacking something. Demoralising, because no matter how hard I try, the 70mph barrier remains unbroken.

To prove I’m in the right place, Wood waltzes up to the tee and, at 55 years of age, immediately registers 74mph. My brain can’t really fathom where the 15mph between me and the professionals comes from. The drop off between my best and my worst is visually dramatic but numerically small. You can see and feel the difference between my best at 69 and worst at 61 – a difference of just 8mph. So the idea of someone striking the ball at north of 80 feels almost vulgar. Some baseball players manage exit speeds north of 100mph. And that’s just unnecessary.

I would describe myself as a ‘good bad cricketer’. There are no failed dreams here. I was never going to be a pro and I don’t spend my Saturdays trading anecdotes about the various professionals I’ve played against and think are shit. But put me in the mass of mediocrity and I’m okay.

The problem is I’ve only hit three straight sixes in my life. One of which I didn’t even mean to do and none of which have come on a Saturday where the fear of failure is too debilitating to even try.

“You’re very long in your stance,” Wood comments after my first few attempts.

“Thank you,” I guess in reply. “What does that mean?” In short, it means that my bat is pointing directly behind me in my stance. For the purposes of this exercise, Wood explains, he wants me to cock my wrists so the bat points up and I can get more hand speed through the ball. This is the good stuff. We’re away.

I knew the gadgets would shock and surprise me. The heavy bats can weigh more than 4lbs. And the heavy balls, which are filled with sand, sit on the bat and if struck correctly maintain their shape and travel a meagre but intensely satisfying five or six yards. If your timing is incorrect, they lose their shape and spiral off in either direction.

“I carry heavy bats and balls around with me all the time now,” says Hampshire T20 specialist Benny Howell, who has worked with Wood across the world and refers to him as ‘ The Guru’. “That’s definitely one thing straight from him. I use it before nets and sometimes before a game because it helps me get in good positions. Obviously it’s resistance so it’s harder, but because it’s so heavy if you don’t get everything right it will go nowhere.”

Higgins also credits Wood with boosting his hand speed, a concept that for many is still considered an innate talent as opposed to a trainable skill. But through a process of overloading and underloading with heavy and light bats, there are plenty of players who will tell you otherwise.

“My game massively improved in my last two years at school,” says Higgins, who first worked with Wood at 12 years old. “Being able to do those kinds of exercises, my hands got so much quicker through the ball and it meant that when I first started playing professional cricket I was way more ready to play T20.”

Dopamine and positive feedback is around every corner of the training session. Catch a ball clean and you feel like Lara. Strike a weighted ball pure and you feel like Kohli. The pro-velocity bat, which is used in baseball and is new to Wood’s kit bag, makes two distinctive ‘click’ sounds when used correctly. In effect, a barrel slides loosely along a baseball-style bat which you can fasten with rubber bands to the end closest to your hands. As soon as you swing, the barrel slides towards the toe end. Get your timing and mechanics right and the barrel will hit the other end of the bat making a ‘click’ noise, before coming back towards your hands as your swing finishes over your shoulder and making the second click. Got it? Good.

My session was made up of six sets. Three with the gadgets alternated with three traditional sets in the nets where Wood would sidearm to me as I tried to stick them out of the ground. There are no stumps. Why would there be? There’s no need for them here and I can say hand on heart that the lack of them is liberating. This is a session where you’re thinking about how well things could go. Not about having to pick your stumps up four times a session if you miss a couple.

What I wasn’t expecting, however, was the intensity of feedback. Good shots were great, bad ones were very bad. An inside edge cannons off my bat into the side of my knee and I hit the deck. The first scream in pain is necessary. The second is not, and Wood tells me as much.

The following ball I timidly prod at one, knee kept well out the way before berating myself for being a coward. “Correct,” agrees Wood. “I’m bullying you now and winning. What are you going to do about it?”

Swinging at him rather than the ball felt excessive, so I went for the option of walking down the track and managed to hit one back over his head. Having had the stick, I now get the carrot. And I’m annoyed at how pleased I feel.

Throughout the session I bat fine. I don’t need encouragement to try hard during the drills, with the novelty alone keeping motivation high, alongside a genuine desire to improve. I struck only one across the hour-and-a-half session where I understood what Wood had been referring to as “effortless effort”. Sure, I struck a few well. But only one where I felt like I’d joined the club. “I reckon that’s on the road,” Wood shouts in approval. I’ve never hit a ball on the road before.

We finish by returning to the speed gun but the 70mph barrier remains elusive. I’ve no doubt I’d be able to break it with more work and I leave the session having realised I can hit the ball further than I thought I could. I’m happy. And I’d go back immediately.

As the session draws to a close, a question remains burning inside me. “Am I still the worst player you’ve ever worked with?”

“Nah, you’re alright,” comes the reply. That’s good enough for me.

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