Extract - The Five Mile Press

Transcription

FAVOURITE
FROM LAUGHS & LEGENDS
TO SLEDGES & STUFF-UPS
KEN PIESSE
THE FIVE MILE PRESS - SAMPLE PAGES
Fav Cricket Yarns-text-finalpp_corx.indd 3
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The Five Mile Press Pty Ltd
1 Centre Road, Scoresby
Victoria 3179 Australia
www.fivemile.com.au
Part of the Bonnier Publishing Group
www.bonnierpublishing.com
Copyright © Ken Piesse, 2014
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored
in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any form or by any means,
electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise,
without the prior written permission of the publisher.
First published 2014
Printed in Australia at Griffin Press.
Only wood grown from sustainable regrowth forests is used in the
manufacture of paper found in this book.
Page design and typesetting by Shaun Jury
Typeset in Adobe Caslon 11.5/15
Cover design by Luke Causby, Blue Cork
Cartoons by Paul Harvey
Endpapers: Country Cricket by Christine Atkins,
www.christineatkins.com.au
National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry
Piesse, Ken, author.
Favourite cricket yarns : from laughs and legends to sledges
and stuff-ups / Ken Piesse.
ISBN: 9781760060305 (hardback)
Includes bibliographical references and index.
Cricket–Anecdotes.
796.358
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Contents
�
Foreword by Ricky Pontingvii
Author’s Introduction
1
1 Amazing & Mostly True
9
2 Bad Boys
51
3 Bloopers, Gaffes, Quips & Sledges
69
4 Laughs
95
5 Legends
135
6 Loves
187
7 Matches
197
8 Men in White
247
9 Stats
269
10 Stuff-ups
301
Author’s Acknowledgements
311
Bibliography312
Index317
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Foreword
by Ricky Ponting
�
I
was destined to be a cricketer. I never wanted to be anything
else. Mowbray Cricket Club was my home away from home.
I was in my element sitting in the rooms among the players and
their gear, listening to their banter. When everyone had gone
out to field I’d pick up a bat and play some strokes, imagining I
was in the middle at Bellerive, or even better, at the Melbourne
Cricket Ground (MCG).
My Dad would take me to all sorts of games, from club
to Sheffield Shield matches. For a few years I worked the
scoreboard at the NTCA Ground in Launceston. I felt like I
had the most important job in the world, especially if there was
a Shield game on.
Mowbray picked me in their firsts when I was fourteen, a
game I still recall fondly for a sharp catch at gully. It was a full
throttle cut shot and I just thrust out my hand and miraculously
it stuck. Our wicketkeeper Richard Soule dashed across and
picked me up in a bear hug and told me it was as good a catch
as he’d ever seen. You can imagine how I felt after that. He
was keeping regularly for Tasmania back then and the guy I’d
caught, Richard Bennett, was a regular in the Tassie top-order.
Yes, that was a good day . . .
At school, my mates would ask me what I wanted to be. It
was a silly question really. I was going to be a cricketer. Full stop.
And other than working as a groundsman at Scotch Oakburn
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FAVOURITE CRICKET YARNS
College for a few months in my mid-teens, that’s what I’ve been
ever since.
I was telling the story of my early days to a gathering at the
MCG late last year when I was made Patron of the Australian
Cricket Society (ACS). Among the crowd, sitting close to me in
the front row, dressed in whites and a cricket shirt, was a young
boy. He was clutching his bat, just as I used to when I was a
similar age. I stopped what I was saying and said to him, ‘You
know, I was just like you . . . exactly like you. Going everywhere
in my whites . . . hoping one of the older guys wouldn’t show up
so I could get onto the field . . . anything to be involved.’
He was only knee-high, but I could tell how passionate he
was about the game. Later I picked up his bat. ‘Feels pretty
good,’ I said. And it did.
One of the things I admire about the ACS is its involvement
in the scholarship scheme run by Bryce McGain and his Elite
Cricket Academy in Melbourne. The course revolves around the
fast-tracking of twelve and thirteen-year-olds, giving them the
best possible coaching and experiences. When I turned sixteen,
I was fortunate enough to have some time at the Australian
Cricket Academy under Rod Marsh. Along with Andy Gower,
another junior from Launceston, I spent a fortnight in Adelaide
on a scholarship organised by the Century Club in Launceston.
You need skill, passion, commitment and luck to be a
cricketer and having that time in Adelaide under one of the
greats in Rod was a real eye-opener. I realised a career in cricket
was a possibility after all, and I still thank those businessmen in
Launceston who were so generous in backing me. It’s a story I
never get tired of repeating.
Cricket people are good people – and they all have a story
to tell, as I found flicking through some of the early manuscript
pages for Favourite Cricket Yarns, Ken Piesse’s latest book. In
between being president of the Australian Cricket Society
and captain of the Kingston Saints third XI, mentoring and
encouraging young players, Ken lives, eats and breathes cricket
like few I know.
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FOREWORD
Ricky Ponting with Ken Piesse at the launch of Ricky's
autobiography in Melbourne late in 2013
Most of you are likely to have at least one of Ken’s books
in your libraries. This is his forty-ninth cricket book and his
sixty-eighth overall on cricket and football. That’s a fair innings.
There’s a great blend of characters in this one, from the
current crop to the oldies-but-goodies. I especially like David
Lloyd’s pun at Lord’s when he was worried about the press-box
lift stopping again (see ‘Handsome but not handsome enough’
in chapter 4).
Ken helps give everyone the best seat in the house, bringing
us all closer to the action, with the emphasis on his amusing
anecdotes. Like me, he thinks cricket is the best game ever
invented and I wish him well with his latest creation.
Ricky Ponting
Melbourne
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Author’s Introduction
�
T
he great game of cricket charms us in so many ways, from
matches and events to the mates we make. I revel in the
backroom stories, like Tony Greig failing to recognise the Don
at Adelaide Airport at the start of the Rest of the World tour
and shrinking in embarrassment when Garry Sobers arrived and
said, ‘Sir Donald . . . what an honour.’
And Greigy, on his UK debut at Hove, being caught plumb
in front, first or second ball, only inexplicably to be given not
out. It just so happened that the umpire and Greig’s Dad had
been drinking buddies in Queenstown . . .
Terry Jenner told me about a prison cricket match at
Waikerie, during his stint in jail. T J said, ‘Our team had the
best record of all: a murderer, a drug pusher, two embezzlers, a
couple of bank robbers and a few blokes who’d tried to diddle
social security!’
So upset was rookie captain Ian Craig by his poor form in
South Africa that he went to fellow selectors Neil Harvey and
Peter Burge in mid-tour and said he was stepping down. ‘No
way will I be a part of that,’ said Harvey. ‘No touring captain
has ever dropped himself. Forget it, you’re playing.’
An eighteen-year-old Ian Chappell, motoring to his first
ever ‘A’ grade ton in Adelaide club cricket, had just entered the
80s when the second new ball was taken. Immediately pulling
Sheffield Shield paceman Alan Hitchcox for 4, he said with
typical Chappell scorn, ‘Fancy you playing for South Australia.’
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Hitchcox extended his run and tried to knock Chappell’s block
off only to watch his next three balls clatter into the fence at
backward square. The shorter he bowled, the harder Chappell
hooked. In four balls, Chappell’s score advanced from 84 to 100.
Within a week he’d been chosen by his state.
Years ago, flighting one of my loopy leg breaks at the MCG,
I had David Hookes caught on the boundary from a steepling
hit which would have surely gone over the old Southern Stand
had it still been standing, a strong southerly bringing the ball
back into the arena for cricket administrator David Richards
to take a lovely outfield catch just metres from Bay 13. Hookes
and I were in at a radio studio years later and he signed a copy
of his autobiography for me:
To Ken . . .
Remember when: Hookes, c. Richards, b. Piesse.
Best wishes,
David Hookes
Having a Test player sign one of his books for me has always
been a thrill. At the Centenary Test match, armed with four
newly acquired Percy Fender tour books, I approached Percy,
then eighty-four and in a wheelchair, and asked if he would
mind signing them. He was all but blind and had brought his
teenage grandson with him to be his eyes. ‘I’d be glad to,’ he said.
And in tiny writing he wrote his name on each one.
Keith Miller was the most vibrant of souls. We lived in
adjoining suburbs. One morning I dropped in for a cuppa and
he was in tears. ‘You know I should have captained Australia,’
he said. ‘Don Bradman ruined my life . . . and you can quote
me, Ken.’
‘Of course you should have captained, Nugget,’ I said, ‘but
so should’ve Shane Warne. You two had a bit extra happening
in your lives . . . and didn’t you bowl a bouncer which almost
poleaxed the Don in his testimonial match?’
Within minutes Nugget was laughing again. He respected
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AUTHOR’S INTRODUCTION
Bradman’s talents but they were poles apart personality-wise.
Keith liked to win, but not at all costs like the Don.
Another morning Nugget rang. He’d just been watching
Andrew Denton’s Enough Rope. His mate Michael Parkinson
had been the interviewee, rather than the interviewer.
‘And guess what, Ken,’ he said, ‘guess what Parky said last
night?’
‘I’ve got no idea Nugget, what did he say?’
‘Out of all the actors, the actresses, the heads of state, the
really important people . . . guess who Parky said was his all-time
hero?’
‘I’ve got no idea, Nug. Who did he say?’
‘Me,’ he said. ‘Me . . . little old Nugget!’
�
I’ve been fortunate to see cricket from Bridgetown to Bellerive,
Johannesburg to Cardiff and St John’s to Sydney. My fiftieth
birthday in 2005 coincided with Day 4 of the fabulous Edgbaston
Test, where Australia edged within a boundary of a Boys’ Own
annual victory in the most dramatic Ashes Test of them all.
Each time our Australian Cricket Society tours for the
Ashes, we fixture at least one game in England – just to say
we’ve played there. From historic Bath to tiny Meopham and its
triangular-shaped village green with pubs on two of the corners,
it has been a wonderful journey.
While never more than a club-standard cricketer, I’ve also
played at some of the major Australian capital city venues from
the Melbourne Cricket Ground, the Gabba and the Adelaide
Oval through to Arundel and one particularly memorable
afternoon at Royal Ascot, where we opposed the Thames Valley
Gents, including their Aussie ring-ins Steve Waugh, Dave
Gilbert and Brad McNamara. The spread at lunch was so
enormous and quality wines so abundant that the main interval
went for an hour and a half.
I was bowling in tandem with Paul Jackson, who was
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Victoria’s spinner before Shane Warne. ‘Jacko’ ribbed me before
lunch for not shining the ball. He bowled the first over after
the break, another maiden and tossing it to me said, ‘Try and
keep it nice.’
Waugh was on strike and struck my six balls, all same-paced
leggies, for 6 4 6 4 6 6 . . . 32 for the over. The first only just cleared
mid-on’s head. The rest were straight out of the screws. Halfway
through the over, Nigel Murch at short cover started laughing,
‘I’ve never seen anything like this before.’ You can imagine the
state of the ball after that.
Just a few days earlier at his host club Amersham, Jacko and
I had shared a 30-run last-wicket stand which had taken us
across the line. Their No. 4 was a girl who played beautifully.
She drove my very first ball straight back at me so hard that my
fingers were still tingling two overs later. While she made only a
dozen or so, it was all with classical, copybook stroke play. After
the game, still on a high, I approached her and said, ‘You know,
you are very good. You should really try and make something
of yourself.’ Our wicketkeeper Mark Foster was within earshot.
‘Piessey, you bloody idiot,’ he said. ‘That’s Jan Brittin. She opens
for England!’
Despite the Waugh mauling and being hit just below the
breastbone by a Merv Hughes bouncer in the MCG indoor
one day after Dean Jones called, ‘Six to win!’, it wasn’t until I
passed fifty years of age that I seriously discounted my chances
of wearing the baggy green. Until then I lived Bert Ironmonger’s
dream. First selected at forty-six, he played through until he
was fifty.
My best cricket had been played in the subbies at Port
Melbourne, famous for its wide, white wicket and scones, jam
and cream at tea breaks. An extra plateful would always be
saved for our opening bowler, VFA footy legend Vic ‘Stretch’
Aanensen, who despite his intimidating physique bowled
slowish, into-the-wind outies off a dainty nine-pace run-up.
Whenever he conceded his first 4, I’d start warming-up. I was
always on from his end.
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HARD NUTS: Port Melbourne CC, 1986–87 subbie premiers. Back row,
left to right: Gary Phillips, Peter Vesty (scorer), Lew Coyle, myself,
Vic Aanensen, Robert Bevilacqua, Sheik Bogdanovic, Jimmy Earle
(secretary/barman); sitting: Shane Davidson, Robert Tinsley,
Graeme Anderson (vice-captain), Bob Allen (president), Phil OMeara
(captain), Paul Crocker, Darren Duscher, Teddy Wale (12th man)
Trying to bowl competitive leggies while juggling a career
as a sportswriter and commentator wasn’t easy. One Sunday,
still with my make-up on, I dashed straight to Williamstown
from the Channel 7 television studios in Dorcas Street where
I’d been presenting the cricket segment on World of Sport. ‘You
bloody poofta sportswriting prick,’ was the general consensus.
Our wicketkeeper Ken Spicer was the only one who didn’t
drink. Once on tour, our bus was stopped by the boys-inblue and ‘Spice’, who always drove, was asked when he’d last
had a drink. ‘Twenty-two . . . maybe twenty-three years ago,’
he said.
The Port boys played hard on and off the field. They were
great family men, but Saturdays were ‘play’ days – rain, hail
or shine. All-day card schools were the norm once play was
abandoned, a common occurrence most October Saturdays in
the late ’80s. On Thursday nights, the wharfies would come in
for a drink with all sorts of contraband straight off the docks.
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For years I did my Christmas shopping at Port, from belowcost wrist watches and perfume to remote-control cars. A bloke
named Barry would come in, remove his jacket to reveal six or
seven watches all strapped to his wrist and forearm. ‘Which one
do you like, Guru?’ he’d ask.
Because I hailed from blue-blood Beaumaris, a Liberalloving affluent area half an hour south, the boys reckoned I had
money to burn and for larks would throw lit fifty-dollar bills out
the car window on the way down to our Thursday night pizza
stop, Topolinos in Fitzroy Street.
They loved it whenever I happened to be bowling and a
tailender walked in with one of those big Stuart Surridge Jumbo
bats. Once a leftie hit me over the small scoreboard at Port and
I snarled down the wicket, ‘That’s just a slog pal!’
‘Hang on a minute, Guru,’ said Stretch from slip. ‘Have a
look how far it’s gone!’
Our opening bat ‘Macca’ was camped under a skier right on
the pickets at square leg one day. He had the safest pair of hands
and I’d put it down as a wicket when somehow not only did he
manage to miss it, but it also donged him on the shoulder and
bounced over the fence for 6.
There were twenty-eight teams in Subbies, the championship
being decided between the two top-ranked teams from East
Group and West Group. We beat Preston and Sunshine on
consecutive weekends to enter the championship final. Sunshine
lasted only until 2 p.m. on the Sunday, and the boys went troppo,
as if we’d just won the premiership. ‘One more to go boys,’ I said,
cautioning them. ‘Let’s hold the celebrations for next week.’
‘No, Guru,’ they said, ‘it’s the Grand Final! We’ve won it!’
That afternoon I made the mistake of trying to go pot-forpot with Stretch and pulled out after ten. Stretch was downing
them like they were waters, while I was seeing double.
Having reluctantly switched clubs, closer to home, I played
against my old mates at Port. I batted three and was bounced
first, second and third ball and run out at the other end
having failed to score. ‘Serves you right you poofta %#*&ing
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sportswriter,’ said Stretch, walking back with me almost all the
way to the dugout.
I’ve always been in the company of cricketers, ever since I
started scoring for the Beaumaris first XI at the age of nine.
The captain John Chambers lived up the road and would pick
me up. So keen was I that once I decided to have four different
colours for the 1s, 2s, 3s and 4s. Our book that day looked like
a colour-in and Mr Chambers politely asked me to just stick
to the lead pencil.
If I wasn’t good enough to play cricket with the best, I wanted
to still be there around them. Writing and commentating
provided that opportunity. A young Shane Warne was making
heads turn in Melbourne and I bowled down to a second XI
game at the Albert to do a story. It was right on lunchtime and
Shane obligingly agreed to bowl a few leg breaks in the centre
for my newspaper the Sunday Press. I acted as the wicketkeeper
at the other end and the ball hummed at me, veering in midcourse and spinning violently sideways like it had hit a redback.
I took it over the stumps in my bare hands and can still recall
the stinging sensation in my fingers.
One year I was assisting Shane’s coach Terry Jenner with
his autobiography, TJ Over the Top: Prison, Cricket & Warnie.
At midnight on the first night, talking about his shame of
going to jail, T J broke down and started blubbing like a baby.
His partner Ann said, ‘Terry, just tell Ken like you told me . . .
don’t leave anything out.’ The three chapters we did on Terry’s
experiences in the Big House were truly compelling and helped
to make the book a bestseller. Shane, Terry’s star pupil, kindly
provided the foreword.
Around that time my own leg break had so lost its fizz, I
was struggling to even dismiss the ageing practice captain at
Frankston. Out of desperation, I emailed T J. Within twentyfour hours came the reply: ‘Master,’ he wrote, ‘have you
considered retiring?’
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�
I’m still in the subbies, but these days exclusively playing thirds
beside my old captain from Port, Phil O’Meara. He comes in
at No. 4 and despite being in his sixties, is still our champion
bat. One recent late summer’s Saturday at Oakleigh, we elected
to bat on what I thought was a hard, flat wicket but turned out
to be a bouncy, spiteful thing. Phil and I had worked out that
we’d see out their opening bowler, a leftie who swung it in at
pace and we did. But their first change, another leftie, turned
out to be faster again and as challenging as anything either of
us had faced in twenty years. Phil got a first-baller and I never
even saw the hat-trick ball, which whizzed past the off stump
at high speed. Apparently the kid was coming back from injury
and just testing himself in the lower grades. It was like a dodgem
alley there for a while and at each change of overs, grateful to
have survived, I met my partner, smiled and said, ‘I’m still alive.’
One final yarn from me before we start with a whole array of
my particular favourites, old and new. We were playing Essendon
thirds at Adrian Butler Oval one year and one kid, their opener,
scratched and edged his way to a most unsatisfactory 50. As
his mates were applauding, I walked past and told him he had
nothing to be proud of – ‘it’s probably the worst %#*&ing 50
in the history of the game!’ When he reached three figures,
to more rapturous cheering, he acknowledged me at mid-on,
saying without my help, he could never have done it. He went
straight into the seconds, made another ton and was playing
firsts by the season-end. Amazing – and true!
Ken Piesse
Mt Eliza
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1
Amazing & Mostly True
�
P
Enter the Babe
erth Scorcher Craig Simmons was the ‘Babe Ruth’ of Big
Bash III in Australia in 2013–14 with some extraordinary
smiting, including the fastest century in Big Bash League (BBL)
history, from just thirty-nine balls. The generously proportioned
opener was unstoppable, like Victor Trumper, Viv Richards and
Chris Gayle rolled into one.
However, during the sudden-death semifinal back in his
original hometown Sydney, Simmons, 5 from fourteen balls,
was struggling to hit anything in the middle.
So out of sorts was he that Sydney Sixers wicketkeeper Daniel
Smith strolled past and quipped he
was heading for ‘the double’: the
slowest 50 to go with the fastest 100
in BBL history!
Reviving remarkably, thirty-nine
balls and a record-equalling eleven 6s
later, Simmons was 102 not out.
As a teenager, the Sydney-born-and-bred lefthander was a member of Australian’s Under
19 World Cup winning team in New Zealand
(2001–02), alongside the likes of Cameron
White, George Bailey, Xavier Doherty and
Shaun Marsh, before his career meandered.
BIG-HITTER:
Craig Simmons
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�
S
A second chance
aturday, 28 May 2011, central London: Cricket journeyman
Chris Rogers was stunned. He’d just been told his contract
was being discontinued. It wasn’t about his runs. It was purely
an age thing. Victoria was desperate to develop a new batch of
Test cricketers. Rising thirty-four, his best was behind him. Life
membership of Australia’s One-Test Club seemed a gilt-edged
guarantee.
He wheeled from a Saturday brunch meeting with Victoria’s
selection chairman John MacWhirter in an absolute daze. It felt
like he’d been on an all-night bender.
‘It’s not a nice feeling being told you’re not wanted anymore,’
Rogers said. ‘I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I was gob
smacked actually. I was told someone had to go. I was the oldest
so I was the first one out the back door.’
The future, MacWhirter had told him, was all about young
sters like Peter Handscomb, Glenn Maxwell and project player
Alex Keath, the lofty teenager from the Goulburn Valley who’d
chosen cricket ahead of AFL. There was considerable heat
from the national selectors to go with the young ones. A rookie
kid from the southern suburbs by the name of Agar was also
considered particularly promising.
Despite the credits Rogers had built in Victoria’s enviable
run of silverware, he was told negotiation was pointless. An
arthroscopy operation had cut his appearances by more than half
in the season just gone. The decision had been made. He wasn’t
part of the first tranche of major contracts. And in all likelihood,
he was warned, he may not be part of the squad at all.
As he waited for a tube connection at Paddington, Rogers
rehashed the painful conversation word for word, shaking his
head in disbelief. Rogers didn’t blame MacWhirter or coach
Greg Shipperd who’d been so welcoming and supportive since
his move from the West in 2008. It was the system. ‘I couldn’t
understand why they were wanting to get rid of the senior
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AMAZING & MOSTLY TRUE
players who were creating the standard in the competition,’
he said. ‘Young guys who hadn’t achieved anything in grade
yet alone state cricket were on a better retainer than I was.
In England if you are the best player, you get paid the best.
Age is irrelevant. It was very disheartening. I still felt I was
one of the better players in the state competition. There were
good young players around but I was in the XI and still doing
a good job.’
Finishing the 2011 English county season at Middlesex
with another 1000-run haul, Rogers toyed with the prospect
of spending the southern summer in either South Africa or
New Zealand. ‘But neither were particularly great options,’ he
said. ‘I was even thinking of getting into management. I’d done
a negotiation course. I was seriously thinking about life after
cricket.’
Then, totally out of the blue, came a phone call. Ashton Agar
had been lured to Western Australia. Suddenly there was a place
open. Agar’s place. Did he want it?
‘It was the last spot in the squad and I was on the minimum
contract,’ Rogers said.
‘Once I got that contract I think I was still one of the first
players picked. Nothing changed there. It was another season
playing cricket. And that’s still the ultimate for me. I was still
extremely grateful to have got that last-minute opportunity. I
treated it as a bonus. I tried to maintain my standards, keep
fighting and do better than everybody else. That’s what drives
most sportsmen to out-perform other guys. That’s what I
wanted to do, show them that I deserved that contract.’
Twelve months later, Chris Rogers joined Victoria’s standin captain Andrew McDonald and his Bushranger teammates
at the luggage carousel at Perth airport – the Sheffield Shield
schedule having started a fortnight early to accommodate the
Big Bash. He was thinking only of the match ahead . . . and
hopefully inflicting a little more pain on his old state. Since
shifting, he’d averaged 70 against the West with three of his
four centuries coming at the WACA Ground.
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While some around him may have pigeonholed him as
purely a state-level player, he’d never conceded, even when he
missed selection for Australia ‘A’, one of the few opportunities
for fringe players to oppose the visiting internationals. His rocksolid technique and focus were rivalled by few, but he simply
wasn’t on the national radar and knew it.
He started the domestic season modestly before finding
some of his renowned touch in mid-summer, scoring three
centuries in four games, all in first innings. But the Vics lost four
of their last five games to fall out of the Sheffield Shield final
that had seemed theirs until the crucial final fortnight. Having
played most of the Ryobi Cup one-dayers, Rogers missed a place
in the final against Queensland. The consummate tradesman,
he’d again aggregated nearly 1000 runs, including 700-plus in
the Shield.
At national level, after a mixed home season, the Australians
were tumbling to an embarrassing 4–0 defeat in India on
cratered, brown pitches that looked like moonscapes. Offfield tensions were high, especially after coach Mickey Arthur
insisted on the suspension of four leading players in mid-series.
With their own inner communication crumbling, the
Australians were fast becoming a laughing stock. Rogers was
preparing for another UK stint, his tenth, when he fielded
another life-changing phone call. It was Australia’s selection
chairman John Inverarity. He’d been chosen in Australia’s Ashes
XVI, alongside fellow openers David Warner and Ed Cowan,
who’d averaged 45 in the extended summer. Phil Hughes and
Shane Watson, who’d started the season late with injury, were
also being named.
Far from looking upon the selection of a veteran as muchdeserved superannuation for services rendered, Inverarity
considered Rogers’ experience and ability to bat time against
Jimmy Anderson and co. an invaluable asset, especially in con
ditions so familiar to him. After all, he’d been spending his offseasons in England since 2004. Australia had been humbled 3–1
in the Ashes battle last time around. He had a key role to play.
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2/07/14 1:59 PM
Rogers couldn’t help but grin. Six or so months earlier he’d
been told he was not to be re-contracted at domestic level. It had
taken a national calamity in India and at home for the selectors
to look past the younger ones. Rogers unpacked his one-andonly baggy green and prepared for the totally unexpected new
chapter of his cricketing life.
Three days into the tour, in late June, Arthur was sacked,
having just told Rogers he was going to open in the first Test. ‘I
thought, here we go,’ Rogers said. ‘Here’s another opportunity
to miss out.’
Australia had named an immediate replacement in Darren
Lehmann. Other than being left-handers, Rogers couldn’t see
any other similarities between himself and Australia’s new
leader. Rogers was compact, gritty and workmanlike. Lehmann
had been a gifted shotmaker with more skill than just about
anybody Rogers had ever opposed. He wasn’t sure if Lehmann
truly rated him . . . or more importantly, even wanted him.
‘We got down to Somerset and Darren came up to me room
and told me I wasn’t playing in that game, but I was going to
open in the Test [alongside Shane Watson],’ said Rogers. ‘It was
an amazing feeling. The Test was still two weeks away. I was
so nervous and a bit scared about what was going to happen.
But I was so happy to know that I was going to be given the
opportunity I’d wanted for so long.’
A change at the top had been necessary; David Warner was
not in immediate contention, having partied too long after the
first of three ill-fated one-dayers several weeks earlier. Lehmann
needed batsmen to bat time. After Rogers and Watson, Ed
Cowan was to go in at No. 3. They wanted to wear down
Anderson, Stuart Broad and co. and make it easier for the
strokemakers coming in mid-list.
Rogers had the opportunity and it was up to him how many
more Tests he played: one, two or all five.
Not only did he play all five, he broke through for his first
Test century – and in all made four Test 100s in the extended
summer of his life. It was a magnificent bonus for someone who
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2/07/14 1:59 PM
just eighteen months earlier had been told he was no longer
wanted . . .
See also: A long time coming, page 271
�
B
Sorry, what was that . . .
atsmen didn’t need reminding they were in a high-stakes
cricket match when opposed to the one-Test Australian off
spinner Dan ‘Fiery’ Cullen.
In Malaysia during an International Cricket Council (ICC)
Champions Trophy game against the West Indies, Brian Lara
was on strike and after a flashy shot and just-as-flashy smile
back down the wicket, Cullen exploded, ‘You cocky prick!’
The rest of his over went for 6 4 4 4 4 – 22 in all.
�
M
Pleasant interlude
ike Hussey loved batting with Ricky Ponting. Invariably
he’d make it look so easy.
In Adelaide during the Test in which England made 6-551,
declared and lost, the pair were batting when, at a drink’s break,
Ponting motioned to Hussey to look back to the scoreboard
end where a well-endowed young lady was on the shoulders of
a man, with the crowd all around her urging her to whip her
top off. She did, revealing another top and then another top and
another. Everyone was laughing, particularly Mike and Ricky.
�
A
Not-so-super Sachin
ustralia had just beaten India in a one-dayer at the Sydney
Cricket Ground (SCG) and as the players shook hands
at the end, Michael Clarke noticed that Sachin Tendulkar was
absent . . . and not for the first time.
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2/07/14 1:59 PM
Racing up the steps to the Indian dressing-room, he found
Tendulkar packing his kit at the back of the room and asked if
he was going to shake hands with the Australians. Tendulkar
said sorry, he’d forgotten . . . Clarke had made his point.
�
F
You choose, Symo . . .
ew were more credulous – or as good company – as
Queensland and Australian all-rounder Andrew ‘Roy’
Symonds.
‘Symo’ believed just about everything ever said to him.
Teammates loved spinning him the tallest of stories and
watching him react.
The Queenslanders were in Adelaide and after training,
Symonds and his roomie, Scott Prestwidge, opted to put their
feet up and watch one of their hotel’s in-house movies.
Symonds was entrusted with the task of selection while
Prestwidge cleaned up. But
upon hearing a number of
groans and carry-on from
Symo, Prestwidge re-emerged.
‘What’s up?’ he asked.
‘Oh mate,’ said Symonds.
‘There are some sick people
out there. You press ten and
get comedies. Press twenty
and get action movies. Press
thirty and get thrillers. Forty is
family movies, but then listen
to this – you press fifty and you
get “disabled” adult movies . . .
who the hell watches that sort
of stuff ?!’
HEART OF GOLD: Andrew Symonds
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2/07/14 1:59 PM
�
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You have to love him . . .
ike Hussey and Symo were in the Hay Street Mall in
Perth when they passed a lady selling raffle tickets.
‘What’s the first prize?’ asked Symo.
‘One thousand dollars cash.’
‘Okay, I’ll be in that,’ he said,
reaching for his wallet.
The pair walked off again before
Symo stopped and went back to
the lady. ‘When’s it drawn?’
‘On the thirty-first of the month.’
‘Right,’ said Symo, ‘I’ll be ex
pecting a call on the thirty-second.’
�
S
One-line magic
everal of Symo’s one-liners
have stood the test of time, his
MR CRICKET: Mike Hussey
old teammates particularly loving
these three:
• ‘Kasper, what’s the RSPCA on your wedding again?’
• ‘What’s that movie with Jerry Maguire called again?’
• ‘What’s your mother’s maiden name, Roy?’
‘It’s Barbara.’
�
A
It’s true (1)
couple of players were looking at Symo’s favourite Gray
Nicolls bat and asked him what the initials ‘S W ’ stood for
on the shoulder of the bat.
‘Swing Hard,’ said Symo.
See also: Giving it some Larry Dooley, page 202
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2/07/14 1:59 PM
�
It’s true (2)
T
he Queenslanders were playing a one-dayer at the Gabba
and the team was asked if it was okay if a player from the
local Deaf Cricket Association could come in and meet the
team. ‘Yeah, no problems at all,’ said Symo, ‘so long as he brings
that ball along with him that rattles!’
�
Party town
I
t was Shane Watson’s twenty-fourth birthday at Cardiff,
the ultimate party town where the hens’ nights out are even
more riotous than the mens’. Symo had stayed out longer than
the rest and reported for duty the following morning against
Bangladesh looking dishevelled and feeling even shabbier.
The team did a casual lap and some stretches, Symonds
leaning on a wheelie bin on an incline and putting his head down.
It went into immediate motion and Symo kept hanging onto it,
head down, oblivious to the smirks from teammates. Captain
Ricky Ponting and coach John Buchanan were unimpressed
though. Symonds was dropped and the Australians were beaten
in one of the great upsets.
�
A
It could only happen in Ireland . . .
fter a year as a guest professional at the local cricket club
in tiny Ferguslie, Mike Hussey told his affable Irish hosts
that he’d loved his time, apologised for not making as many
runs as everyone had wanted and said that err . . . sorry . . . he
wouldn’t be returning.
‘That’s all right,’ chorused the Ferguslie head honcho. ‘We’re
after a fast bowler anyway next year.’
Hussey immediately recommended West Australian squad
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2/07/14 1:59 PM
teammate Mark Atkinson, a strapping six-foot-plus all-rounder
who could really let them fly. Everyone shook hands and Hussey
left them to do the fine-tuning.
Six months later, a proud-as-punch Ferguslie deputation
gathered at Glasgow airport to welcome Mark Atkinson and
were amazed when a diminutive figure, no more than 165
centimetres (five foot five), walked through the transit lounge
carrying, among many things, his wicketkeeping gear!
‘Hi,’ he said. ‘I’m Mark Atkinson.’
The boys from Ferguslie had been negotiating with an outside
agent and between them all, they’d recruited the Tasmanian
Mark Atkinson!
Amazing . . . and true!
The smaller Atkinson was to have a fine year, averaging 66 and scoring two
100s – an improvement on the previous professional! He also kept wickets
and bowled a bit.
�
S
Rapid rise
o unknown was Jason Gillespie when chosen as a replace
ment for Craig McDermott at the 1996 World Cup on
the Subcontinent that Australian coach Bobby Simpson and
manager Col Egar went out to the airport to pick him up, armed
with a photograph of him, just to make sure they collected the
right person!
�
M
One to remember
atthew Nicholson, the 24-year-old paceman, was sitting
on a plane waiting for take-off from Perth to his home
town Sydney for Christmas when a hostess approached and told
him he needed to get off . . . ‘You have a cricket match to play in.’
Nicholson immediately thought it was a one-day game
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2/07/14 1:59 PM
for Western Australia – a match he may have inadvertently
forgotten when planning his mid-summer holidays.
‘I borrowed a mobile from the bloke sitting next to me,
rang the WACA and spoke with [secretary] Jane Parsons and
she confirmed, yes, there was a game I was required for . . . I’d
been included in the Australian team for the Christmas Test in
Melbourne!’ he said. ‘Jason Gillespie had dropped out and I was
to be his replacement. At that stage I’d played only eight or nine
first-class games and had only just got back into cricket after a
lay-off [with chronic fatigue syndrome].’
Nicholson took four wickets on debut, a match memorable
for England’s fighting 12-run win in just three playing days.
It was to be his one and only Australian appearance – but
as he said, ‘If you only ever get to play one game, it’s hard to go
past Melbourne and the Boxing Day Test. Given the history of
my health, it was particularly special.’
�
S
Fancy a beer, sir?
o humid and sticky was it in Chandigarh one Test match
morning that waiters balancing large trays of ice-cold,
frothing beers awaited the arrival of the English press contingent.
Wishing not to upset their hosts, every glass was emptied . . .
�
U
Gen ‘Y’ boy
nimpressed by the smell of Australia’s dressing-room in
Antigua one World Cup, Shane Watson lit a scented
candle and was ribbed about it for the rest of the campaign.
Further questions were asked when Watson dared have his hair
done before one Allan Border Medal count.
19
2/07/14 1:59 PM
�
I
The greatest catch of all
n the pantheon of cricket’s finest outfield catches, one stands
supreme for me – Steve Waugh’s incredible one-hander
behind the MCG members’ sightscreen during a day-night
international in the New Year of 1989.
With the West Indies chasing hard for a victory in a
World Series Cup international, Roger Harper lofted a Craig
McDermott slower ball unbelievably high and straight back over
the umpire’s head. It was disappearing over the sightscreen –
then a part of the field – as Steve Waugh sprinted from deep
mid-off to within a step or two of the pickets and gathered it
at full tilt . . . a miraculous piece of judgment and athleticism.
The 66 000 fans present roared like it was a football grand
final as Waugh re-emerged on the other side holding the ball
triumphantly aloft.
Len King, one of the officiating umpires, said once he saw
Waugh disappear from the field of play, it should have been a
call of ‘6’. But then he saw Waugh re-emerge from around the
back of the sightscreen and did a quick re-think. ‘I wasn’t game
to give it not out,’ he said. ‘I would have been lynched.’
Waugh hadn’t dared to initially track the skier, instead
sprinting towards the sightscreen. Looking up instinctively,
just at the right moment, there it was, the white ball against the
black sky, dropping over the screen straight into his outstretched
right hand! ‘Only then did I realise how close I was to running
into the sightscreen or worse still, into Merv Hughes who had
also been running for the ball from the other direction,’ he said.
‘It was the best single feeling I ever experienced in cricket.’
Waugh’s catch-of-a-lifetime turned the match, the Australians
winning the game by 8 runs, their first win in fourteen matches
at the MCG against the long-time world champions.
20
2/07/14 1:59 PM
�
Scary times
days before the Australian team was due to depart to the
JustSubcontinent
for the 1987 World Cup, frontline all-rounder
Simon ‘Scuba’ O’Donnell discovered a large lump on his rib
cage. He immediately thought it could be a cancer.
It was sore, but he had no intention of withdrawing from
the squad.
‘I made some doctors do some horrible things to ensure I got
to India,’ he told my colleague Jon Anderson. ‘I got an X-ray
that showed I was missing a rib. The doctor was worried about
it, but I was on a plane to India three days later.
‘But just two days into India not only did the big lump come
back but it had a couple of partners. That’s when I thought I
was in real strife.’
He still refused to confide in the Australian team doctor and
it was only after the Australians won their semi that he dared
tell coach Bobby Simpson.
‘It was pure selfishness, wanting to play,’ O’Donnell said. ‘I
knew I was within a week of going home to find out what was
wrong and it really frightened me. I had to talk to someone.’
O’Donnell had been ‘fined’ by playful teammates for not fully
involving himself in the celebrations after the semifinal victory
against Pakistan
He duly appeared in the final, Australia won and within
twenty-four hours of the plane landing in Melbourne, he was
on the operating table.
‘As soon as I awoke, the surgeon John Bartlett was sitting
on the end of my bed to tell me the bi-op was malignant. I was
twenty-four and I had lymphoma. John found it hard to tell me
and I found it hard to accept.
‘I had to ring Mum and Dad in Deniliquin to tell them there
was some bad news. Somehow you float through it even though
you are scared shitless.’
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2/07/14 1:59 PM
O’Donnell recovered and was a fine and explosive all-rounder and leader for
Victoria and played a total of eighty-seven One Day Internationals (ODIs)
for Australia.
�
S
Not quite a fairytale
cuba O’Donnell had played the first of his six Tests two
years earlier at Leeds. His parents had arrived from border
town Deniliquin on the morning of the game and hightailed
it to Headingley just as O’Donnell was walking in at No. 7.
Thrilled to be there, they settled down to watch their son’s first
innings in Test cricket.
He was out first ball.
In the second innings he took forty minutes to score his
first run, but shared an 80-run stand with Wayne Phillips,
making the O’Donnells’ forty-hour flight from ‘Deni’ a tad
more rewarding . . .
�
A
Wait your turn
n exhausted and severely dehydrated Dean Jones was taken
to a Madras hospital after his epic 210 in the first Test
of 1986.
Ferried straight to the emergency ward, Jones was shocked
to see a man arrive, obviously seriously injured, and covered only
by a cotton sheet which was drenched in blood.
‘What happened to ’im?’
‘Oh, he just got hit by a lorry. He’s got two broken legs.’
‘That guy looks worse than me,’ said Deano, ‘maybe you
should treat him first . . .’
‘No, no, you’re the cricketer.’
And the badly injured man had to wait.
See also: Merv broke the mould, page 137
22
2/07/14 1:59 PM
A HAPPIER TIME: Dean Jones in the Caribbean in 1984
Ray Titus
M
�
Hero-worshipping
ike Hussey was a right-hander until he turned seven
and witnessed the epic Allan Border–Jeff Thomson lastwicket stand from Melbourne one Christmas. ‘A B’ was his new
hero and he wanted to be a leftie just like him.
The backyard battles with his brother Dave were always
enthusiastic and ultra-competitive, but as long as M Hussey
was allowed to be A B he was happy.
�
I
Hard of hearing
t was the Adelaide club derby: East Torrens v. West Torrens
at Campbelltown. Westies’ skipper Andrew Sincock called
correctly and said, ‘You can bat . . . after we’ve finished.’
The home captain didn’t hear the second part of it and when
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2/07/14 1:59 PM
the umpire walked into the rooms five minutes before the start,
there were two sets of opening batsmen ready to walk out.
�
King Viv
K
nighted for his services to cricket and one of the five
Wisden Cricketers of the Century, Viv Richards is heroworshipped everywhere he goes in Antigua. He has an amazing
common touch, at Test match week mingling and chatting with
all those barbecuing their flying fish at the back of the stands at
St John’s, as though they are family.
King Viv, Andy Roberts and Richie Richardson remain
CARIBBEAN CONQUEROR: ‘King’ Viv Richards – the
West Indies’ ultimate cricket hero
24
2/07/14 1:59 PM
national heroes on the tiny island which is only 100 square miles
with a population of just 80 000.
So loved and revered is Viv that his entire marriage ceremony
to his sweetheart Miriam was broadcast live on national radio.
�
K
Shots of the season
ing Viv was on his way to 150-plus in a one-dayer at the
MCG one memorable Sunday and struck Dennis Lillee
with such ferocity hard and flat over the top of mid-off that it
bounced just once before skidding into the steel pickets in front
of Bay 13. ‘Faaaaak!’ exclaimed non-striker Desmond Haynes.
At Old Trafford in a one-day international, Richards made
a then record 189 not out, including 93 of a tenth-wicket stand
of 106 with Michael Holding, who contributed 12.
There were fifteen overs to go when Holding entered to a
reassuring, ‘Don’t worry, just hold on,’ from Richards.
‘For the few deliveries that he allowed me to face,’ Holding
said, ‘I managed to follow his instructions. In the meantime, he
fashioned an astonishing innings, even by his standards. When
his adrenalin was pumping, he was capable of anything . . . a
couple of his five 6s were the biggest I have ever seen, the shots
of the season.
‘For one he simply put his left foot forward and swung his
hefty bat through the line of a ball from Derek Pringle, the
medium-pacer. It just kept going and going, clearing the stand
at long-on and landing well beyond. It must have carried a
good 120 yards. The second also cleared the stands and almost
dropped onto the tracks of the nearby Warwick Street rail
station . . . I cannot conceive any batsman of any era playing an
innings of quite the same ferocious power and self-confidence
as Richards did that day. England’s bowlers were powerless to
stop him.’
See also: ‘Hold on for Viv’, page 76
25
2/07/14 1:59 PM
�
D
An absolute one-off
erek Randall had the sunniest of all personalities. From
exuberant on-field handstands to doffing his cap midpitch having been sconed by Dennis Lillee, he was forever
smiling. Impish, inventive, scatterbrained and highly strung,
Randall was an absolute one-off, forever jumping around and
playing to the crowd.
One of the little-known stories behind his Ashes-winning
150 in 38-degree-Celcius heat in Sydney was how he went for
a walk the night before, forgot the name of his hotel and where
it was and didn’t lob back until 4 a.m!
So grateful was he on his return that he insisted on making
his roomie Ian Botham a cuppa and turning on the radio and
TV as loud as he could – all the time singing at the top of his
voice. Neither made it back to bed until dawn!
�
A
‘I’m fine lads, thanks’
shley Mallett was by far the clumsiest first-class cricketer
of his era. Whether or not it had something to do with one
leg being half an inch longer than the other, he was never sure,
but he was a constant source of entertainment for his teammates.
‘One evening when a few of us were sitting around our
lounge-room,’ said Ian Chappell, ‘Ashley knocked a few things
over – as he usually does – dropped his cigarette a couple of
times and was talking on the telephone as the rest of us left.
‘We were no sooner outside the door than there was a most
alarming crash. Ash had slipped from his stool and managed
to bring down two tables with him, both loaded with glasses
which smashed all over the place. We dashed back into the
room to find Ash sprawled under the couch, where the fall had
deposited him, still chatting away on the telephone as though
nothing had happened.’
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2/07/14 1:59 PM
�
M
‘Shut up, you rowdy bastard!’
allett was universally known as ‘Rowdy’, thanks to his old
state captain Barry Jarman. Mallett was South Australia’s
twelfth man and having poured the drinks after play, went and
sat on a bench by himself and, as was his habit, said nothing.
Jarman walked back and forth holding court and suddenly
stopped and looked at Mallett: ‘Shut up, you rowdy bastard!’
The nickname stuck.
�
K
No Hector
erry O’Keeffe once walked out to face Bankstown’s
tearaway Jeff Thomson without a ‘Hector Protector’ . . .
‘and lived to tell the tale’, said O’Keeffe before breaking into
trademark gusts of laughter.
�
M
Accidental hero
any of swing king Bob Massie’s fairytale sixteen wickets
on debut were taken from around the wicket, a revolu
tionary move hailed as ‘genius’ by several of the Fleet Street
press corp. Truth be known, Massie had only ever practised the
move once, a fortnight earlier at Old Trafford, purely because
the run-ups from his normal angle of over the wicket were
substandard.
With two ‘eight-fors’ at the home of cricket, Massie was
hailed as cricket’s new sensation. Only once before had he
produced a finer analysis, at Mt Lawley High when he took
nine wickets in an innings against Kent Street, an opposition
that included a teenage Rod Marsh.
See also: Thirsty business, page 81
27
2/07/14 1:59 PM
�
A
Brittle body
lan Ward was briefly billed as England’s ’70s answer to
legendary expressman Frank ‘Typhoon’ Tyson. However,
injuries were to restrict Ward’s international career to just a
handful of Tests and he exited his one-and-only Australian
tour in 1970–71 prematurely after only a few weeks.
As a teenager he told one interviewer, ‘I’ve pulled practically
every muscle in my body. You name a muscle and I’ve pulled
it. My back, my shoulders, my arms, my legs. The lot. For
two years I had so many strains and injuries I hardly played
at all.’
�
K
A Bradman bat for a fiver
im Hughes bought his first cricket bat at the age of nine
with money made by selling empty soft-drink bottles to
the local general store in Pinjarra.
‘I still remember riding out on my bike, with my packed
lunch, collecting the returnable bottles so I would have enough
money to buy my first bat,’ he said. ‘It cost two pounds, ten
shillings, the equivalent of five dollars today and I was thrilled.
It was a Slazenger Don Bradman autographed bat and was the
most treasured personal belonging I had . . . Wish I knew where
it was now.’
�
W
Swallow dive
est Australian John Inverarity had his wicket dislodged
by Greg Chappell in a Shield game at the Adelaide Oval
in 1969–70, after the delivery struck a low-flying swallow and
deflected onto his stumps. Inverarity, who hadn’t scored, was
almost off the ground when the umpires recalled him, saying his
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2/07/14 1:59 PM
dismissal was ‘not in the best interests of cricket’. He returned
to the wicket and made 89.
�
E
A tough nut
ric ‘Fritz’ Freeman is still adamant he should have been
included in the official Test records for an ‘assist’.
In Melbourne during the Christmas Test of 1968–69,
West Indian Seymour Nurse pulled a short delivery from John
Gleeson straight at Freeman at short leg. He ducked, the ball
ricocheting from his unprotected head at a 45-degree angle
down to deep backward square and into the safe hands of Keith
Stackpole.
Other than a tender spot on his skull, Freeman was perfectly
okay. His teammates were amazed he hadn’t suffered a serious
injury.
�
I
Having faith
n times of stress during the volatile ’65 tour of the West
Indies, devout Christian Brian Booth would repeat reassuring
passages of scripture from Philippians 4:13: ‘I can do all things
through Christ who strengthens me.’
Sometimes, though, his faith wasn’t enough, especially when
big Charlie Griffith was zeroing in from wide of the sightscreens
and chucking them at close to 160 kilometres per hour . . .
�
A
It’s too early for a nightie . . .
century at Lord’s is every young cricketer’s ambition. Barry
Jarman still had his wicketkeeping pads on at the home
of cricket in ’64 when Australia’s captain Bobby Simpson was
castled third ball by the Marylebone Cricket Club’s (MCC’s)
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2/07/14 1:59 PM
David Brown. Next-man-in Ian Redpath was in the toilet, so
Jarman went in – and made 105!
‘I was sitting having a cigarette,’ said Jarman. ‘I hadn’t taken
off my pads. There was an enormous roar and “Simmo” was
walking off. I went to see Redders and he was in the toilet only
with a jock strap on. “Yeah you’d better go out,” said a few of
the boys and I passed Simmo on the stairs in the Long Room.
‘Seeing me he said, “It’s too early for a night watchman.”
‘The next day at lunch I was 50-odd not out and I said to
Simmo, “I didn’t have any trouble with David Brown . . . what
was your problem?”
‘The boys including Simmo got a hell of a laugh out of that.’
Fifteen minutes after the break, Jarman had his coveted 100
and his first outside Australia. He’d added 42 including backto-back 6s from the leg spin of Robin Hobbs. One writer called
Jarman’s post-lunch assault ‘blazing and brutal’. It remained a
career highlight for the future one-time Test captain.
The Lord’s fixture had been played the day after the fifth
and final Test, in which Australia had forced a draw to retain
the Ashes. There had been a rollicking celebration the night
before and for the only time in his career, Simpson made a pair.
Having won the toss and batted on the first morning,
Simpson said to his partner Bill Lawry that ‘there were a few
sore heads back in the rooms so we’d better really try and do
all right’.
Lawry couldn’t contain his mirth when Simpson was out
straight away. ‘Good to see you trying,’ he said as his mate
trudged past him back down the wicket to the pavilion.
�
I
Regrets, thirty years on . . .
an Redpath had just twenty minutes to prepare when told by
captain Bobby Simpson he’d be making his Test debut – and
opening the batting with fellow Victorian Bill Lawry in front
of his hometown Melbourne crowd.
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2/07/14 1:59 PM
Frontline pair Norm O’Neill and Brian Booth had withdrawn
from the XII with hand injuries, two Victorians in Redpath and
Jack Potter taking their place.
As a specialist opener, Redpath felt his chances of playing in
the Test were slim given the formidable pairing at the head of
the order of captain Simpson with Bill Lawry.
‘But Bobby said I was in and that I’d be opening up with Bill
and he’d be dropping down to three,’ said Redpath.
‘I didn’t have a lot of time to think about it which was
probably good. It helped to have “Phanto” [Lawry] out there
with me. He was at his peak in those days and was a marvellous
player.’
The pair added 219 for the first wicket, Redpath’s share 97.
He admits he was fortunate early, as South African express
Peter Pollock tested him with some short-pitched deliveries
straight at his breastbone, one of which he lobbed to short leg
where the world’s No. 1 fieldsman Colin Bland had just been
stationed. ‘Unbelievably though, the ball went straight through
his elbows. He didn’t even touch the ball. I would have been
only 5 or 6 at the time.
‘I thought, I’m going to cop a few here. It’s either him or me.
He bowled me another bouncer and I instinctively hooked it. I
was never a hooker and it landed one bounce into the fence at
backward square leg. I shook my head in surprise and while he
bowled a few more short ones, he wasn’t into me to the same
extent.’
Redpath said he would have been rapt to have made even 20
on his debut. ‘It wasn’t so painful then [to miss out on a century].
I think I was more disappointed thirty years on than I was at
the time. With a little more patience, I might [have got there].
I was well in and seeing them well too.’
Despite his near-century, Redpath was Australia’s twelfth
man in the next two Tests and dropped altogether from the
fifth Test squad.
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�
R
Impeccable timing
ichie Benaud’s touring Australians were at the London
Palladium and being announced to the patrons one-byone, Richie leading the way by standing and bowing with great
dignity. Everything was going swimmingly as tour manager, the
very august Mr Sydney Webb, QC, beaming with delight, was
also acknowledged. He stood up, nodding his appreciation while
Bill Lawry deftly parked a fart cushion on his seat . . .
Down Syd sat to a huge #@@@TTTTT. The entire audience
broke up, especially Bill.
Syd lost count of the times talcum powder found its way into
the insides of his pride-and-joy suede shoes. Another of the
team’s funsters Frank Misson once hoisted his beloved briefcase
via a rope onto a roof rafter and poor Syd spent almost an hour
on a trestle table on his tippy-toes trying to knock it down
with a broom. The more he repeated, ‘I’ll kill you Misson,’ the
more the Australian players laughed, until everyone had tears
in their eyes.
Once the team was invited to a reception at Clarence House,
home of the Queen Mother. It was a select group: the two
teams, immediate management, the Queen, the Queen Mother,
Prince Philip, Princes Margaret, Lord Snowdon and only one
or two others.
As always, Webb was revelling in all the pomp and pageantry
and the ever-alert Misson managed to surreptitiously plant
several of the Queen Mother’s silver spoons into the pocket of
Webb’s dinner suit jacket.
The team was lined up ready to say their goodbyes when
Misson started apologising to the Queen Mother saying, ‘Sorry
ma’am, but our manager Mr Webb . . . he has . . . err . . . he has this
unfortunate habit at official occasions . . . of . . .’
‘Really?’ she asked.
Webb was bringing up the rear and as Misson and the others
graciously thanked their hosts, Webb was re-buttoning his
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2/07/14 1:59 PM
ASHES TOURISTS: The 1961 team. Back row,
left to right: A James (physiotherapist), Bob
Simpson, Lindsay Kline, Ron Gaunt, Frank
Misson, Bill Lawry, Ian Quick, Graham McKenzie,
Peter Burge, Norman O’Neill, Barry Jarman,
J Cameron (scorer); front: Brian Booth, Wally
Grout, Alan Davidson, R Steele (treasurer), Richie
Benaud (captain), S Webb (manager), Neil Harvey
(vice-captain), Colin McDonald and Ken Mackay
jacket and in QC-speak preparing a fitting
farewell speech, talking about how the night
SIGNING SHEET:
had been one of the most memorable he Autographs from
could recall.
the ’61 Ashes team
The Queen Mother was affably shaking including manager
his hand when one of the team members Syd Webb, QC (top left)
deliberately bumped Webb and the silver spoons tinkled.
‘What’s that you’ve got in there, Syd?’ asked the player.
Syd buried his hand in his pocket and out came his ill-gotten
gains.
He turned purple with embarrassment.
Ah, it was a most satisfying night for the mischief-makers . . .
�
A
Fun-lover
sked the secret of Hampshire’s 1961 championship
success, fun-loving captain Colin Ingleby-Mackenzie
quipped, ‘Wine, women and song.’ Further quizzed by the
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2/07/14 1:59 PM
earnest cub reporter, he agreed that the
team did have rules, ‘I absolutely insist
that all my boys should be in bed by
breakfast.’
�
S
Fast-tracked
o impressive was eighteen-yearold wrist spinner David Sincock
NO CURFEWS: Hampshire
in the Adelaide nets against Frank captain Colin InglebyWorrell’s touring West Indians that Mackenzie
Worrell declared him Australia’s most
outstanding teenage spin bowling prospect.
A week later he was making his first-class debut in Adelaide
and with his third ball dismissed Australian captain-to-be Brian
Booth lbw on his way to a fairytale six for 52 and nine wickets
for the game.
In his first three Shield matches Sincock amassed twentyseven wickets at nine a match and was soon to represent
Australia.
�
H
Good sport
aving become Freddie Trueman’s 300th Test victim, Neil
Hawke shook Fred’s hand, congratulated him on his
milestone and only then walked back to the Oval dressing-rooms.
�
O
Out of the ground
ne of Ian Meckiff ’s enduring memories of the epic
Calypso summer of 1960–61 was bowling to the great
Garry Sobers during the Sydney Test. ‘The Windies did things
no other batsmen ever tried,’ he said. ‘In Sydney I was bowling
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2/07/14 1:59 PM
to Sobers. He played back, saw it was a slower ball, changed his
mind and hit me out of the ground over long-on. It was one
hell of a donk.’
A similar back-foot lift against Alan Davidson during his
monumental 251 against New South Wales the following
summer landed on the Hill in front of the old scoreboard. He
was a truly remarkable talent.
�
B
Banging ’em
efore becoming secretary at the Melbourne Cricket Club,
John Lill was an assured and confident opening batsman
good enough to gain selection with an Australian ‘B’ team to
New Zealand.
He made a habit of amassing big scores for his Adelaide
club team Sturt, especially against his ‘favourite’ teams like West
Torrens. Invariably one of the ‘casualties’ was West’s slow leg
spinner Brian Flaherty, who found that the ground was simply
not long enough to keep Lill’s straight hits in the park.
Once at Adelaide’s Thebarton Oval, when the football goal
posts were still in place, Lill was in particularly destructive form
and lifted Flaherty straight back over his head for six 6s. ‘I love
playing against you “Banger” [Flaherty],’ said Lill afterwards.
‘Oh . . . but you didn’t do so well today,’ came the reply.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, you only got one goal five!’
�
N
Different strokes . . .
o-one had told the touring Fijians that the lower point
of the cycle track at St George’s Hurstville Oval doubled
as the boundary edge, so during the two-day January friendly
against a NSW XI captained by Arthur Morris, many of the
outfielders, most barefooted, slid across the concrete without
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fear of injury. They were all very keen and wide-eyed playing
on such wide open and beautifully manicured cricket grounds.
Afterwards as a few cold longnecks were being shared, one of
the Fijian players ripped off the bottle top with his teeth.
�
M
Out twice in a minute
iddlesex was playing at the Parks and the buccaneering
Bill Edrich waltzed down the wicket to the gentle leftarm of Oxford’s Roy Woodcock only to miss and be neatly
stumped. Wicketkeeper Michael Scott looked triumphantly
towards square leg for confirmation as Edrich began to walk
off. ‘Hang on a minute Bill, he’s not there,’ said Scott.
Sure enough the square leg umpire, Denis Hendren, Patsy’s
brother, had momentarily gone off for a wee.
He soon hurried back on, the game resumed and Edrich
again advanced, deliberately missed the ball and was stumped
for a second time in a minute.
�
W
A little gamesmanship
orcestershire was in Kuwait for some end-of-season
friendlies. Guest wicketkeeper Godfrey Evans somehow
convinced captain Tom Graveney of the merits of giving him a
bowl. The opposition were 7 down and there was just one over
to go, so Graveney relented.
To call Evans a leg spinner would be an exaggeration, but
somehow he got a couple on line and from the fifth ball Ron
Headley took a skier, and to the sixth the No. 10 somehow didn’t
pick one which held its line and popped up a catch to short leg.
The umpire made a movement to take the bails off, game
over, before Evans interrupted. ‘Hang on, don’t forget the noball I bowled first-up. You called it but didn’t signal it. There’s
still one to go . . .’
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2/07/14 1:59 PM
‘So there is,’ said the umpire, not wishing to upset one of
England’s most celebrated and popular internationals.
Calling to the scorers, the umpire said, ‘The first was a noball. There’s still one ball to be bowled.’
In came Evans, looking in the best leg-spinning traditions to
curve it in and spin it away and maybe have the No. 11 caught at
slip. Instead it was another ‘nudie’ – nothing on it whatsoever –
and obligingly full, and the No. 11 sent it into orbit higher than
it was long . . . straight to the safe hands of the awaiting Headley
in the deep. Evans had three from three, his one and only hattrick in any class of cricket – and Worcestershire had its win.
�
G
Cricketing royalty
eorge Tribe loved to encourage young cricketers. During
his time playing in the Lancashire League, one teenage leg
spinner took his fancy and to encourage him, George presented
him with his Australian cap. The boy’s name? Bob Barber, who
a decade later was to make 185 in a Sydney Test. ‘I should have
asked for it back then,’ quipped George.
One Saturday at my club Frankston Peninsula Cricket
Club, George came down to visit us and willingly accepted an
invitation to speak to my third XI lads during the tea break.
So engaging was he that we all lost track of the time, the tea
break extending through to 25 minutes with the umpires and
the two opposing batsmen patiently waiting in the middle for
the match to resume. Nobody minded. To us all, George was
cricketing royalty.
See also: A last hurrah, page 224
�
I
He bowled without socks
an Johnson was so used to walking around without socks
during his time with the RAAF, that he played his entire
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2/07/14 1:59 PM
maiden Test series in Australia in 1946–47 without them.
‘In the islands and New Guinea foot ailments like tinea
were a continual problem. Wearing socks in that climate
tended to make your feet sweaty, so I learnt to do without them,’
he said.
‘When I returned home to play cricket I was still used to not
putting on socks. It was quite comfortable just going around in
boots and I didn’t change the habit until I went to England in
1948 where it was much, much colder.’
The first time he bowled for Australia, on Day 1 of an Ashes
Test, in Sydney in 1946–47, a sockless Johnson took a ‘six-for’.
�
R
Running into form
on Hamence was having a horror start to a year and the
two fast bowlers at South Australian training were giving
him a real going over on an underprepared greentop. He kept
nicking them behind or missing them altogether. Nothing was
hitting the middle and Hamence was becoming more and more
disconsolate.
South Australia’s captain Phil Ridings stopped practice and
called, ‘Who are the two worst bowlers out here?’
‘Noisy Harris for sure, Phil,’ came the reply.
‘Okay, he’s one . . .’
Someone else said he couldn’t bowl so he, too, was enlisted,
Ridings telling them to keep pitching the ball up.
Hamence was soon playing shots with his renowned flair.
Next time in with SA he made 170.
�
F
Ball of the season
rom the time he amassed fourteen wickets in the opening
Coronation Year Test at Trent Bridge, Alec Bedser was
unstoppable.
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2/07/14 1:59 PM
On the way to ‘seven-for’ in the first innings, his spells with
each of the three new balls were one for 7, two for 5 and four
for 2.
The delivery which castled Lindsay Hassett, Australia’s
captain, swung in, pitched middle and leg and hit the top of the
bails off . . . the ball of the season.
‘I must be a pretty good player,’ Hassett said afterwards. ‘I
went to play three different shots to that ball, changed my mind
twice and was still good enough to get an edge.’
�
T
Has it started yet?
he rules of cricket were being explained to Groucho Marx
at Lord’s one day: ‘Six balls are bowled from this end; then
as you see, the fieldsmen change over and six balls are bowled
from the other end and so on . . .’
Groucho listened politely and kept watching the game.
‘Okay, I see,’ he said. ‘Six balls from this end, six from the other.
Yes, I see . . . and the batsman hits the ball and they run up and
down – one, two, three. Yes, I think I’ve got it.’
He watched again intently for four or five minutes and then
asked, ‘Say . . . when do they begin?’
�
D
Late . . . again
enis Compton made a habit of being late for appointments
and functions – and occasionally even for the cricket. He
was driving to the Oval when he flicked on the radio and
heard John Arlott say that Bill Edrich was out and that ‘Denis
Compton would be coming in next’.
Given Compton was halfway across Vauxhall Bridge at the
time – and still in his civvies – he would have needed to be
Superman to get there on time. He’d forgotten that play started
half an hour early on the final days of Tests.
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2/07/14 1:59 PM
�
B
Yes, I did bowl the Don one day . . .
ill Andrews was a long-time trundler at Somerset whose
1973 memoirs were entitled The Hand that Bowled
Bradman. And how many did the Don make that auspicious
day? Only 202!
�
S
Now you see him, now you don’t . . .
ir Charles Aubrey ‘Round the Corner’ Smith’s nickname
emanated from his eccentric run-up which started anywhere
forward of extra cover and often saw him veer behind the
umpire before suddenly jumping back into sight and delivering
the ball as fast as he could. He remains the only English cricket
captain to also appear in a motion movie with Elizabeth Taylor:
the 1949 remake of Little Women.
Smith was the driving force behind the establishment of the
Hollywood CC in 1933. He enlisted actors and their friends
to train and play, including a young Laurence Olivier, Boris
Karloff, who was a capable wicketkeeper, David Niven, Errol
Flynn and P G Wodehouse. He continued to represent the
Hollywood XI into his seventies.
His knighthood, in 1944, came through improving AngloAmerican relations.
�
W
Classic Arlott
hen embarking on a post-war tour of South Africa, John
Arlott was asked by an Afrikaner to specify his race.
There were four choices: White, Indian, Coloured or Black.
Arlott wrote ‘Human’.
See also: Cricketing royal, page 103
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2/07/14 1:59 PM
�
A
The best laid plans . . .
teenage Tom Brooks was in his first month of first-grade
cricket with Waverley. He’d just taken a five-for in his
second match and was feeling pretty confident. The Waves were
drawn away at Mosman, home of the legendary Stan McCabe,
scorer of three of the finest Test centuries of all. So keen were
the Waverley lads to dismiss the revered Test champion that
they went out to Mosman Oval midweek to discuss how to do
it. The plan was hatched. Brooks would bowl a bouncer second
ball as fast as he could and hope that McCabe would sky one
to fine leg.
Match day came and sure enough, McCabe opened up. From
a lengthy run-up, Brooks bowled his first at pedestrian pace, just
above medium. The second he delivered with all his strength
and McCabe hooked, as high as it was long, straight to fine-leg
fielder Mick Alterator . . . only for Mick to put it down. In the
next two hours, McCabe made 127 with twelve 4s and six 6s. He
and Keith Carmody (70) started with 150 for the first wicket.
It was a memorable day for Mosman, as the club’s new pavilion
was opened on the same afternoon by Percy Spender, a Federal
MP, whose speech was several times interrupted by the applause
for McCabe’s pyrotechnics.
The Sydney Morning Herald commented, ‘McCabe’s innings
was one of rare charm, and spectators, appreciating his brilliant
stroke play, considered themselves fortunate that McCabe was
missed at leg before he had scored.’
�
C
Hundreds at practice
ricket was an expensive pastime in the Depression years
with one in four out of work. Many dropped out, unable
to afford club subscriptions. Thanks to Don Bradman and
his thrilling record-breaking ways, the interest in the game
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2/07/14 1:59 PM
remained high, however, and at Waverley CC, for example,
practice sessions would often be witnessed by large crowds of
unemployed folk who’d spent the day at nearby Bondi Beach
before walking up to the ground to play cards in the pavilion
or simply watch the likes of Alan Kippax and rising young star
Jack Fingleton for an hour or two.
At the height of the Depression, only four in Waverley’s
first-grade team had jobs. Two had cars. For ‘away’ games, those
with jobs took the train while the drivers would pick the rest up,
as they couldn’t afford the train fare.
The cricket cost one shilling for the ground fee and three
pence for the scorer weekly, plus the annual subscription to help
fund the kit and match-day balls.
Some of the more promising juniors such as Fingleton
had their subs of ten shillings and sixpence paid by local
philanthropist and cricket-loving businessman Ernie Williams,
who for years was a patron saint in keeping the club financial.
�
M
Ginger Meggs and his mates
aster caricaturist J M ‘Jim’ Bancks, creator of the little
Aussie extrovert Ginger Meggs, was a keen cricket fan
often seen at Waverley Oval in the ’20s and ’30s. He took
particular interest in the activities of two of his best mates, Test
batsman Alan ‘Kippie’ Kippax and giant fast bowler, the forever
sunburnt ‘Dinny’ Kelly.
Bancks also became friendly with many others in Waverley’s
first XI including spinners ‘Oakie’ O’Connor and Horace
‘Ocker’ Stevens, noted for bounding into bowl at practice
before abruptly coming to a full stop at the popping crease
and not always getting his leg breaks and wrong-uns on line.
Explaining his occasional waywardness, Ocker liked to blame
the commotion in the club’s pavilion, a favourite Thursday night
rendezvous for young lovers who would often be sprung by
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irate fathers, the boys jumping the fence and running to evade
further inquisition.
Bancks loved the whole vibe at Waverley, the characters,
their personalities, their mannerisms and nicknames and made
several of them central characters in his popular Ginger Meggs
cartoons. Kelly was ‘Tiger Kelly’ the bully. The iconic Kippax
was ‘Coogan’, always up for a game. O’Connor was ‘Oakey’ and
Stevens ‘Ocker’.
For thirty years or more the boys never grew up, experiencing
the joys of cricket and football, wangling ice-creams out of
Italian shopkeepers, trying to explain to policemen about the
latest broken window and always carrying an extra tomato or
two just in case they could ping Tiger Kelly before running for
their lives.
Thanks in no small way to the fun-loving, ever-imaginative
Bancks, the nicknames ‘Ginger’ and ‘Ocker’ became part of the
Aussie vernacular.
�
D
Brotherly battles
inny Kelly had a brother Harry, who called everyone ‘Brud’
to alleviate the need to remember names.
Harry was a determined batsman noted in the Waverley nets
for always putting two florins on the stumps as an encouragement
to Dinny to bowl flat out and try and knock them over.
They’d forever be arguing about a nick dropping short or
an lbw Harry insisted was going down leg. Afterwards, having
battled until it was almost too dark to see any more, they would
race around the oval, Harry on foot and Dinny on a very wobbly
bike. To roars of encouragement from their teammates and
onlookers, Dinny would invariably lead before slowing down
on the always-boggy wing at Waverley and Harry would charge
past, whooping with delight, having cut as many corners as
possible!
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�
O
Amazing energy
n Parkinson one night, Jack Fingleton was telling stories
about some of his favourites from yesteryear and jokingly
said that Dr Reg Bettington, his first NSW Shield captain, had
once swam from Crete to Alexandria with a set of golf clubs
between his teeth. Encouraged by Michael Parkinson’s look of
astonishment, Fingleton said Bettington was a man of boundless
energy and skill and in one 24-hour period in between seasons
in England, he played cricket, getting wickets and runs, then
rugby in the lengthy twilight before going to a ball into the
wee hours. The following morning
he was up early to do an operation
before giving several pints of blood!
�
T
THE OLD MASTER: Even into
his forties, Jack Hobbs
made a habit of destroying
bowlers of all sorts, at all
levels
Time flies
he great Jack Hobbs was in
rare touch and shortly before
12.20 p.m. lifted Yorkshireman
Alonzo Drake so high towards the
pavilion clock that it was almost
disappearing when someone
shouted, ‘Look . . . it’s hit the clock
and knocked the clock on to twenty
past four.’
‘Pity it didn’t knock the bastard
forward to half past six,’ said Drake.
�
C
A comic’s hero
omic actor Charlie Chaplin’s all-time hero as a child was
. . . cricketer Tom Hayward.
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�
George, George, George
G
eorge Gunn loved to be different. A genius when it suited,
he turned fifty when he shared a Test triple-century stand
for the first wicket with Andy Sandham at Kingston.
It was during this MCC tour of the Caribbean in 1929–30
that George camped under a steepling big hit on the legside boundary. Taking off the pith helmet he was wearing,
he held it in one hand and nonchalantly caught the ball with
the other.
‘Ay,’ said the bowler Wilfred Rhodes, who never would have
allowed himself such flippancy, ‘a grand catch George, but thee
shouldn’t have done that!’
Gunn scored 276 runs at almost 35 in the four Tests and amassed more than
700 runs for the tour overall. The series was drawn 1–1, the fourth timeless
Test in Jamaica ending in a draw after nine days, the MCC team having to
catch their boat home.
�
U
A Christmas hangover to remember
ntil the advent of the Boxing Day Test match, Victoria v.
New South Wales, Australian cricket’s ‘Grand Final’ event,
was a perennial fixture over Christmas week in Melbourne.
For years play would continue even on Christmas Day, most
famously in 1928–29 when Alan Kippax and NSW’s No. 11
Hal Hooker added 307 for the tenth wicket against a champion
Victorian attack.
The crowd of 200 became 10 000 by mid-afternoon with
news that the pair were still batting, Kippax so cornering the
strike that he was 221 not out at stumps with Hooker 51. Their
epic stand lasted into a fifth session the following morning,
guaranteeing NSW the first innings points and giving the
Victorians a Christmas hangover to remember.
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�
G
‘It’s mine!’
olden Age entertainer, the very eccentric Sammy Woods
was a wonderful, larger-than-life all-sportsman and yarnspinner who represented both Australia and England in Tests.
Some regarded him as big an early cricketing personality as
Alfred Mynn and even W G Grace himself. There was no
argument in the south-west, where Woods was a folk hero
unparalleled, his feats with Somerset CC including ten wickets
in an innings and a career-high 215. He always played to win.
‘Draws?’ Sammy would say. ‘They’re only for bathing in.’
Totally unconventional at the selection table, he was known
to invite strangers to complete his XI if he happened to be short,
even for championship games. Once he got talking on the train
with a man who said he’d made big scores in club cricket. ‘Right,’
said Sammy, ‘You’re in.’
‘But I haven’t got any gear . . .’
‘That’s okay. We’ll find you some.’
The ring-in made a pair. It turned out he hadn’t played since
he was ten and had been curious about the standard of county
cricket. Woods, as always, had the last word. ‘He was a very good
whist player,’ he said.
A lover of champagne and lobster, sometimes even at break
fast, Woods was a champion athlete in his prime. He boxed,
represented England at rugby and could run like the wind. Once
he claimed a catch from a towering hit from his own bowling
just five yards from the pavilion steps. ‘I just called “mine” and
went for it,’ he said. The batsmen had run 2 and were returning
for 3 when he completed the catch.
Later, as Somerset’s coach, he liked to sit behind the nets in a
wicker chair with a bottle of whisky and a cheroot, encouraging
the batsmen to hit the ball as hard and often as they could. More
often than not he’d doze off in the sun. But he was still much
loved and admired.
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�
S
An early exit
ammy was playing in a club match at Wiveliscombe and
it looked like being an early finish after the visiting team
slumped to 8-40 chasing 200-plus. Out came the oppos
ing captain and immediately complained that the wicket
was too short. A tape measure was called for and after several
re-measurings the wicket was found to be eighteen inches
(forty-six centimetres) too long.
The game was restarted and the opposition outed for 35,
ensuring an early exit to the local inn.
�
W
Eagle-eyed
ilfred Rhodes excelled in telling stories about the Indian
Prince K S Ranjitsinhji, a wizard of the willow whose
wristy, carefree flicks were truly bewitching. ‘In the days when
I went in first with Jack [Hobbs],’ said Rhodes, ‘they reckoned
I could make out the seam on the ball. Well, they should have
watched Ranji. He could see each and every stitch.’
�
S
No-nonsense Sammy
ammy Carter insisted on high standards, whether he was
playing first grade at Waverley, Sheffield Shield for NSW
or Test cricket for Australia. One club Saturday, he became
increasingly disenchanted by the returns from several of his XI,
particularly debutant Mick Alterator.
In between overs, he motioned Alterator to the wicket.
‘Yes, Mr Carter?’ said Alterator, thinking he might be about
to get a bowl.
‘Son,’ said Sam, ‘if you can’t throw in better returns than
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2/07/14 1:59 PM
you’ve been doing, you’d better buzz off and sit in the pavilion
and I’ll play on with ten!’
Alterator later became club captain and still holds the record for most club
runs at Waverley CC: 11 000-plus. He played for thirty-one seasons.
�
E
Spun out
H ‘Patsy’ Hendren was in domin
eering form before finally being
castled by the West Indian finger spinner
Ellis Achong, of Chinese descent,
during the MCC’s 1929–30 Caribbean
tour. Patsy was completely fooled when
Achong rolled a wrist spinner out of the
back of his hand. ‘Fancy being bowled by
a bloody Chinaman,’ he said.
�
P
FUN-LOVING:
Patsy Hendren
Whoops
atsy was an inveterate yarn-teller, the taller the better. He
loved Australia and Australians loved him. One of his
favourites came in the late ’20s when he had a match off and
took himself off into the bush. On a high plateau, he came
across a cricket game about to start.
He was sitting down to watch when one of the fielding team
approached and said they were one short. Would he like to fill in?
‘Yeah, sure cobber,’ said Patsy in his best Anglo-Australian.
No-one recognised him and Patsy was motioned to field
behind the bowler’s arm at the bottom of the plateau.
‘Stay down there for both ends,’ he was told.
So low was he that he could only occasionally see pieces of
the play. From time to time, however, he’d field a ball and throw
it back.
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2/07/14 1:59 PM
After an hour or two of doing this, a ball came soaring over
the top of the hill high in the air. Patsy positioned himself
perfectly and took the catch easily and rushing up the hill, held
the ball aloft triumphantly. ‘I’ve caught it, I’ve caught it,’ he
called.
The entire fielding side erupted in laughter, but those back
on the sidelines weren’t as impressed. ‘You bloody fool,’ said one.
‘You’ve caught our opening batsman! We’re batting now!’
See also: Gotcha, page 177
�
E
Not so Gracious
ven in semi-retirement, W G Grace was quite the martinet.
Young Surrey hopeful W C ‘Razor’ Smith had been told he
would most likely be needed by his county on the following day.
He was playing in a match at Crystal Palace and he told ‘the
Grand Old Man’ who had organised the fixture that he wanted
to get away quickly if possible so he could get a good night’s rest
and catch the early train the following day. ‘All right, Smith,’
said the Doctor. ‘We’ll see what can be done.’
Smith happened to be playing against Grace on this occasion
and was bowling to Grace when he deceived him with a slower
delivery which Grace gently lobbed straight back to the bowler.
Just as Razor was shaping to take the catch, Grace called down
the wicket, ‘Smith, if you catch me, you won’t catch that early
train.’
�
W
Musical interludes
G was breakfasting with Gloucestershire first-timer
A C M ‘Crumbo’ Croome before a game at Bristol.
‘Young man, if I win the toss, you’ll come in at No. 7,’ said W G.
‘Do you have you a box?’
Croome stammered a ‘no’ and W G declared it would be
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2/07/14 1:59 PM
foolish to face the likes of Tom Richardson without one and
told him to go and purchase one.
Croome did what as was told, found a cricket outfitter nearby
and to his embarrassment, saw that a girl was serving.
‘Ummm, err, excuse me, miss . . . umm . . . do you have one of
those pro . . . protective devices for cric-ckkettt,’ he asked.
‘What size?’ queried the girl before calling for her father
from down in the cellar.
‘The man wants a box, Dad,’ said the girl.
‘We don’t have a call for them much in these parts,’ said her
father, ‘but follow me.’
Croome went with him, and the man rustled about, finally
coming up with something the right shape and size made of
wire netting.
Gloucester batted first on a seaming wicket and W G was
still batting when young Croome emerged at No. 7.
He started assuredly on the difficult wicket before being
beaten by one which broke back sharply and veered straight
into his new purchase. With a loud ‘pang’, the ball bounced
back towards the bowler.
This exercise was repeated two or three times in the next
hour, each time a loud ‘pang’ being heard. Finally, W G had had
enough. Down the wicket he marched. ‘Young man, I told you
to get a box, not a musical box.’
Incidentally, Croome suffered a terrible accident while fielding for Gloucester
at Old Trafford one day. Attempting to stop a boundary hit, he impaled
himself on the spike of the railings, the spike entering his neck, and it was
first thought that the injury would prove fatal. However, he made a full
recovery. Later he became a noted cricket writer for The Times.
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2
Bad Boys
�
I
Lawn bowls anyone?
t was six years between internationals for buccaneering
batsman Brad Hodge, recalled in the 2014 New Year for
a weekend of Twenty20 cricket with the frontliners absent in
South Africa. The 39-year-old had been rated Victoria’s finest
interstate cricketer, ahead of even Shane Warne, by long-time
coach Greg Shipperd, who like everyone else was mystified by
Hodge’s long-time exclusion from national teams.
During his prolonged absence – Andrew Hilditch was selec
tion chairman for much of the time – Hodge said he had more
chance of representing Australia at lawn bowls than cricket.
On his return at his beloved MCG, he opened Australia’s
bowling, figured in two dismissals in the field – and didn’t bat,
before he and 43-year-old Brad Hogg were chosen for some
Twenty20s in South Africa and the ICC World Twenty20
tournament in Bangladesh.
�
S
Icebreaker
ometimes even the happiest of families have their differences
and there was quite a commotion when Simon ‘Kato’ Katich
headlocked Michael Clarke in a dressing-room argee bargee
after Australia’s only victory of the South African leg of the
2008–09 Test summer in Sydney.
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2/07/14 1:59 PM
Unhappy at the delay in the singing of Australia’s victory
song, ‘Under the Southern Cross I Stand’, and having made
plans for the Australians to gather with loved ones at a nearby
bar, Clarke asked Australia’s team manager Steve Bernard to try
and hurry it all along.
Despite Bernard’s approaches, Mike Hussey, the leader of
the song, was in no hurry and Clarke was becoming increasingly
fidgety, leading to a tangle with Simon Katich, Hussey’s closest
mate.
Clarke left immediately with the song still unsung and
emotions high. Katich went around the room apologising to all
and sundry, particularly the two new boys, Andrew McDonald
and Doug Bollinger. ‘I’m really sorry,’ Kato said to the pair. ‘I
don’t want to ruin your first Test match.’
‘Don’t worry mate,’ said McDonald, ‘this happens all the
time in Victoria.’
�
A
Cat tales
sked why he’d become a slow bowler, Phil Tufnell replied,
‘You can’t smoke twenty fags a day and bowl fast!’
Nicknamed ‘Cat’ after partying too hard and sleeping rather
than fulfilling his twelfth-man duties one day at Headingley,
Tufnell was a fun-loving rebel with a ponytail who admitted to
being arrested and spending a night in the cells at least three
times that he could remember, as well as being hit over the head
with a half-brick by an angry father, who believed Tufnell had
mistreated his daughter.
A matchwinner in his day, Tufnell had a quirky run-up that
consisted of a kick of the back leg, a skip and a jump. Even
1000 first-class wickets, however, didn’t guarantee great levels
of self-confidence. Watching Shane Warne bamboozle the
English top-order one day, he said, ‘This bloke is making me
look like crap.’
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�
A
Expensive one-liners
fter England’s final loss of the one-sided 1994–95 summer
in Sydney, a cricket bat was passed around for the players
to sign. Phil Tufnell scribbled ‘Mickey Mouse’ and twelfth man
Phil DeFreitas signed ‘Sod Off ’. It cost the culprits 3000 pounds
(then 5000 Australian dollars) in fines, some of which went to
the handwriting expert who had narrowed the signatures down
to the Terrible Two.
�
Those magnificent men in their flying machines
A
s pranks go, it was a ripper, but almost caused Ashes icon
David Gower to be sent home mid-tour.
The 1990–91 Englishmen were in Queensland playing an
inconsequential mid-tour game in between Tests at Carrara,
home at the time to AFL football in Queensland.
Across the road was a small airport set up for joy-riding
holidaymakers who zipped around in Tiger Moths, enjoying
unparalleled 360-degree aerial views of the magnificent Gold
Coast.
As England headed for what proved to be its only first-class
win of the tour, Gower, no longer shackled with the duties of
leadership, thought in the best traditions of ‘r and r’ in a nonTest week that he, too, should sample some of the thrillseeking
high life and turn aviator . . . even if it was for only twenty
minutes.
He asked tour vice-captain Allan Lamb to advance him
the 240 ‘Oxford scholars’ and told him why. Lamb thought it
quite a lark and agreed it was probably better not to involve
captain Graham Gooch. Teammate John Morris overheard
their conversation and asked if he could go too.
Gower’s curly blond hair and ready smile had been a regular
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part of Australia’s cricket landscape since the late ’70s and he
was immediately recognised.
The pair strapped themselves in, pretending they were
Biggles embarking on a daring raid.
Up they went, the pilot even dipping low over the cricket
ground in between the football light towers, Lamb and his
batting partner Robin Smith pretending from mid-pitch to
shoot the pair down with their bats.
Unfortunately for the two merrymakers, the pilot had alerted
the local newspaper to the identity of his famous passengers and
noted travelling photographer Adrian Murrell had his long lens
at just the right angle to capture the happy pair, complete with
leather helmets and goggles, smiling, waving and enjoying the
moment.
Back on terra firma, they landed to a welcoming committee
of journalists and photographers. The cat was out of the bag.
Back at the ground, Gooch asked suspiciously, ‘That wasn’t
you up there by any chance “Lubo” was it?’
‘Who me? Heavens no,’ said Gower giving his captain his
best choirboy look.
English management was soon informed of the prank and
went into meltdown mode; Gower and Morris were fined the
maximum allowed penalty of 1000 pounds (2500 Australian
dollars at the time).
If England hadn’t have been going so badly, he and Morris
most certainly would have been sent home.
Ironically the borrowed cash Gower accessed had come
courtesy of team manager Peter Lush. It was Lush who
eventually had to play headmaster and inform Gower of his
penalty.
Coming in to bat a few days later in the Adelaide Test,
Gower was welcomed with a chorus of ‘Those Magnificent
Men in Their Flying Machines’.
Even Gooch had to smile at that one.
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�
A
Stitched up
llan Lamb was king of the mischief-makers. Eighteenyear-old South African Dale Benkenstein was at Northants
for experience and very late one night was enlisted as twelfth
man for the first XI for the following day’s match at Oxford
University. He drove to Oxford with no kit and slept in his car.
In Northants’ second innings, Lamb said he was changing
the order and Benkenstein was to go in at No. 3. ‘I’ve spoken to
the umpires,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry. You’ll be fine.’
A wicket fell in the second over and Benkenstein got halfway
to the middle when he was stopped by one of the umpires.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Lambie said I could bat.’
‘Piss off,’ he said, ‘this is a first-class match.’
A red-faced Benkenstein had to march straight back to the
pavilion. Gotcha son.
�
F
Half decent
or all his huff and puff and on-field histrionics, Lenny
Pascoe was a pretty decent chap. After Sandeep Patil, the
Indian virtuoso, had squirted three attempted cover drives over
the top of second slip’s head in Sydney early one afternoon,
Lenny erupted. ‘You’re nothing but a mongrel son-of-a-bitch,’
he said (or something like that). And, pointing to his forehead,
he added, ‘And the next one is going straight here.’
Charging in, Pascoe did bowl it short and it veered straight
in and glanced off a retreating Patil’s head. Only a few players
wore helmets back then, and the Indian went down like a sack
of spuds.
Lenny was horrified. Patil hadn’t moved. ‘You don’t think
I’ve killed the poor bastard do you?’ he asked one of his
teammates.
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Patil was helped off, with a cut to the side of his head but was
okay and batted in the second innings. Three weeks later in the
next Test in Adelaide, he made one of the classic centuries of all.
�
I
Unimpressed
n preparing for his first tour of India in 1979, Rodney Hogg
packed individual ‘survival’ packs of his favourite foods
including cans of spaghetti and baked beans plus several jars of
Vegemite. ‘They’re my Test match rations,’ he proudly declared.
Refusing to touch anything on the local menu, he found his
staples had long disappeared before the start of the Tests, as did
his personal can of Aerogard which lasted two days rather than
the intended two months.
His own performances, consistently dazzling only months
earlier against Mike Brearley’s Englishmen, also fell away.
He bowled the majority of Australia’s forty no-balls in the
opening two Tests and at Bangalore became so frustrated at
overstepping, he kicked a stump down in fury.
‘I bowled pies,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t get my run-up right and
was called countless times for no-balls. I lost my cool. I lost
everything. If there’s a record for the number of no-balls in a
Test series, I reckon I broke it that trip.’
�
‘H
A one-off
oggy’ was opening the bowling with Dennis Lillee in a
Test in Sydney and at each change of ends, Dennis grew
increasingly angrier at the rapidly declining condition of the
ball. Finally ‘DK’ exclaimed to Hoggy, ‘Why don’t you shine it?’
‘I can’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘I’m not wearing the right sort of pants!’
He was a one-off, was Rodney Malcolm Hogg.
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BAD BOYS
ONE OF A KIND: Rodney Hogg
WARNIE: Lots of verbals
�
S
Tit for tat
o distraught was the proud South African Daryll Cullinan
at his inability to master the mesmerising wizardry of Shane
Warne that he sought psychiatric help. Next time they met,
elephant-memory Warne was straight onto the front foot with
the verbals.
‘Hey Daryll,’ he called, ‘I’m going to send you straight back
onto that leather couch . . . I’ve waited for this moment for two
years.’
‘Looks like you spent the two years eating,’ replied Cullinan.
Cullinan’s average against Warnie and the Aussies was under 5. Overall it
was 44.
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�
T
Fireworks
he call of nature waits for no man, even if he has pads on.
At Mt Smart, the World Series Australians were playing
on an aluminium wicket covered by coir matting and next-manin Ian Davis suddenly had to excuse himself.
‘It’s hard going to the toilet when you’ve got all your gear
on,’ he said. ‘Next minute “Solo” [Mick] Malone stuck a heap of
penny bungers under the door and basically blew up the whole
cubicle. My nerves were gone and my pads were ruined. The
boys loved it.’
�
I
A narrow escape
t was a greentop in Sydney and Sarfraz Nawaz, the tall
Pakistani medium-pacer, made one stand-up to Dennis
Lillee which he only just evaded. Glaring at Sarfraz down the
wicket, Lillee snarled, ‘Don’t forget we’re bowling next.’ It was
the last bouncer he received.
The following day, Lillee happened to be bowling when
Sarfraz came in. He knew he was in for it. Lillee lengthened
his run-up and paused at the top, adding to the theatre. His
back was sore but he intended to bowl the fastest bouncer he
could. Just as he reached the delivery crease, he groaned and
the intended fast bouncer became a half-pace-long hop which
Sarfraz gratefully lapped to the backward square boundary.
With a huge grin on his face he even told the umpire Jack
Collins that it wasn’t that fast.
Lillee overheard the remark and said, ‘Wait for the %#*&ing
next one.’
This time, he really let it go and it veered in straight at a
retreating Sarfraz. It just flicked his nose on the way through
to keeper Rod Marsh. Lillee followed through almost to where
Sarfraz stood. ‘Missed!’ he said.
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BAD BOYS
Sarfraz, never the bravest of batsmen, was quickly out at the
other end to the far more sedate mediums of Greg Chappell.
�
T
A win-win
he World Series Cricket Australians were in the West
Indies, enjoying the blue skies, the beaches, the Red Stripe
beers and other assorted Caribbean delights.
It was a non-compulsory practice day and reserve speedster
Len Pascoe was heading for the beach with his closest mate Jeff
Thomson who’d been given the morning off. They were walking
through the lobby when they saw the team bus, still in the car
park with everyone aboard. Captain Ian Chappell was at the
side of the bus waiting for Lenny.
Lenny immediately ducked around the back of the hotel and
hid in some bushes. Chappell might have wanted him to come
and bowl, but no way was he going to do it. Why couldn’t he
also have the day off ?
Chappell sighted Thomson and asked where his big mate
was. ‘He was upstairs before,’ said Thommo.
Chappell went off a-hunting and returned without Lenny.
Off the bus went.
Lenny re-emerged and was beachward bound when Greg
Chappell, who also had a leave pass, saw him and said the bus
had gone and he’d better get a taxi down to the ground.
Lenny was ropable and on arrival was generally abusive to
everyone and bowled mainly bouncers especially to Chappell –
which was exactly the practice he wanted, given where they were
and who they were playing against!
Pascoe made the next ‘Supertest’ and Chappell scored runs
in each innings. It was a ‘win-win’ for both.
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�
F
Ashley’s fright, Doug’s delight
un-loving Dougie Walters loved to store away all sorts of
useless information, especially when it came to the phobias
and superstitions of teammates.
Ashley ‘Rowdy’ Mallett let it drop one night how scared he
was of the following, in no particular order:
(a)heights
(b)underground caves
(c)spiders.
Weeks later, one lazy Test-eve afternoon, Doug was mooching
around a novelty shop, saw a particularly menacing-looking
imitation spider and, immediately thinking of Mallett, made
the purchase.
The next day the Australians were in the field, and Doug
put the spider in his pocket and kept a keener eye than usual
on captain Ian Chappell waiting to hear him tell Mallett to,
‘Warm-up Rowd . . . you’re on next.’
As Mallett paced out his run,
Walters made sure he had the
ball, stuck some chewing gum,
plus the spider on it and with a
‘good luck mate’, calmly handed
it to Rowdy ‘spider-up’.
Mallett was looking around
the field and then began to twist
and spin the ball. ‘Oh, oh . . .
what’s this?’
Looking down, he glimpsed
the big black spider, seemingly
the size of the entire cricket
ball and threw the ball down
YOUNG DOUG: Dougie Walters
in consternation. Adding to the
in 1965 from the Scanlen’s
Chewing Gum set
drama of it all – and to Doug’s
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BAD BOYS
considerable delight – he started backpedalling at record speed.
‘%#*&! What’s going on!’ he exclaimed.
Only a considerable deal of coaxing encouraged him to
handle the ball again.
Ian Chappell looked across at Doug and just shook his
head . . .
�
R
A bit of a lunatic
ichmond, Victoria and Old Trinity fast bowler John
Leehane carried one of the great nicknames: ‘Luna’ –
short for lunatic.
Leehane had a split personality. Nice as pie off the field, he
was responsible for more than thirty ‘direct hits’ on it, thanks to
his near-express, change-up bouncer.
He was a fast bowler not to be riled, as Tasmania’s Gary
Goodman found one day at Launceston in 1978–79, when
Leehane dismissed his opening partner Mick Norman early
with a ball that ran away and was taken at fourth slip . . . ‘Our
manager Sammy Loxton told us they’d nick ’em early and he
was right.’
Leehane bowled a half-pace short one at Goodman and he
bunted it back just over his head. As he was passing he uttered,
‘Keep bowling that shit to me.’ Three balls later he had his nose
broken.
Even when Leehane agreed to come out of retirement
for Old Trinity in the Melbourne Cricket Club XI ranks, he
couldn’t help himself.
‘At Bulleen,’ eyewitness and old teammate Tony Hargreaves
said, ‘he took out University’s “Duster” Broad, a quite reasonable
second XI all-rounder, after Duster advanced down the track
and hit him back over his head. As much as we tried to persuade
Luna that he should forget it, he couldn’t, and Duster copped
one in the mouth while trying to hook. It wasn’t pretty.’
Leehane said he liked three types of batsmen: ‘those on
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teams that I played for or supported, opposition batsmen that
were dismissed and dead batsmen’.
‘Yes, I did like to compete,’ he commented, ‘and in retrospect,
maybe the boys were right. I was a bit of a lunatic.’
�
S
The Ugly Australians
ledging and Ian Chappell went hand-in-hand, especially if
New Zealander Glenn Turner happened to be in the same
time zone.
But as Chappell’s teammate and collaborator Ashley Mallett
often said, ‘Ian wasn’t always the instigator. But if someone had
a go at him, he’d lash back with both barrels.’
One of Chappell’s most infamous run-ins came against the
Kiwis, the match at Christchurch in which Turner made twin
centuries.
The Australians were becoming increasingly agitated as a
string of close lbw decisions were all rejected by the NZ umpire
Bob Monteith.
When Monteith signalled a 6 when the ball had clearly
bounced short of the fence, Chappell exploded. ‘Hey Bob,’ he
said. ‘Where did that bloody ball bounce?’
Turner had been leaning on his bat at the non-striker’s end.
He too had seen the ball bounce over and went to interrupt . . .
‘Shut up, pal,’ said Chappell. ‘It’s none of your business. The
umpires make the decisions here, not you.’
Turner wouldn’t back down. Chappell certainly wouldn’t, and
eventually he told Turner to ‘%#*& off ’.
The language Chappell used, Turner claimed, ‘was as bad as
you’d hear anywhere . . . it was unedifying and unpleasant’.
Back in the rooms afterwards, Turner demanded an apology,
which was not forthcoming. The next day the NZ local press
dubbed Chappell’s team ‘The Ugly Australians’.
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�
O
San Franciscan night
n the way to England in 1972, the Australian team
landed at San Francisco for refuelling. Paul Sheahan,
who’d been overcome by airsickness, retired to a toilet just
before landing and fell asleep.
An overzealous security guard
found the toilet door bolted,
broke it down and grabbed
the unsuspecting Victorian,
accusing him of being a
potential hijacker. Only a
quick-thinking explanation
from Australian team manager
Ray Steele saved Sheahan from
further embarrassment – and a INCONVENIENCED:
night at the local lock-up!
Paul Sheahan
�
B
Riot? What riot?
ill Lawry’s Australians were steaming towards victory
in the first Test in Bombay when Indian tailender Srini
Venkataraghavan (or Srini ‘Rentacaravan’, as Billy Birmingham
loved to call him) was wrongly given out caught behind.
The home crowd was furious and erupted out of control after
hearing the local radio commentator proclaim over the public
address, ‘Venkat was not out . . . Lawry’s a cheat.’
Bottles rained onto the ground, deckchairs were stacked
and set on fire and the riot squad was called. Somehow play
continued until stumps when more bottles were thrown at the
Australians as they made it to the safety of the dressing-rooms
and a bath full of icy cold beers that Doug Walters had expertly
organised.
Australia’s manager Fred Bennett arrived in the rooms.
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‘Fellas,’ he said, ‘there are 10 000 people in front of the main
grandstand calling for Bill Lawry’s blood.’
‘Fred,’ Dougie said deadpan from the backroom, ‘let’s give
’em Lawry and let’s get on with the drinking . . .’
�
D
Bombed out
ougie Walters was the ultimate party-animal cricketer –
yet he neither smoked nor tasted alcohol until he was
almost twenty-one.
‘I tried cigarettes but wouldn’t have gone through even a
packet of ten at school,’ Doug said. ‘And in those days you had
to be twenty-one to get into the [licensed] clubs. I didn’t know
what beer tasted like until I was twenty.’
Doug, the people’s champion, made up for lost time though.
During a stint of National Service in the late ’60s, Doug’s army
mates nicknamed him ‘Hanoi’ – they reckoned he was always
bombed at night.
Doug was a great dressing-room character and often pre
ferred not to practise on the morning of a match. When he
was dropped for the final Test at the Oval in 1972, he told his
captain Ian Chappell, ‘Beauty, I won’t have to be up early for
nets.’
Chappell loved having Doug around the rooms. He once
lightened the atmosphere on the first morning of an important
Test by pushing his legs into his shirtsleeves and trying to pull
his flannels over his head. ‘Nervous? Who’s nervous? Not me!’
he said.
�
A
Running scared
ustralia was playing South Zone at Bangalore in 1969,
and was in danger of defeat after a run of lbw decisions,
including one or two which may have been close.
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BAD BOYS
Reserve wicketkeeper Ray Jordon collected a pair and on
querying the umpire as he was walking off a second time, was
told, ‘Mr Jordon, if you did hit it, you were out caught. If you
say you did not hit it, you were out lbw anyway.’
As tailender John Gleeson walked out to bat, he stopped and
chatted to the umpire. ‘See this pad?’ asked Gleeson.
‘Yes, Mr Gleeson.’
‘See this bat?’
‘Yes, Mr Gleeson.’
‘If the ball hits that pad and you put your finger up, this bat
will get wrapped around your head!’
For the next hour Gleeson calmly padded away ball after ball
and finished with 18 not out – not one of the numerous Indian
appeals being upheld. And Australia forced a draw.
�
S
Gotcha, skip!
urveying the porky figure of young
opener Colin Milburn, Northants
captain Keith Andrew suggested that
Milburn in future consider drinking
halves rather than pints.
‘My father drank pints,’ said Milburn,
‘and so do I.’
A few days later Andrews was buying
a few drinks for the team after a win.
‘What’ll it be, young Col?’
‘Two halves thanks, skipper.’
See also: ‘What kept you boys?’, page 156
�
I
A YOUNG COL:
Colin Milburn on his
way to heavyweight
status
From 84 to 100 . . . in four balls
t remains one of the most significant of all of Ian Chappell’s
centuries. As an eighteen-year-old in his maiden season
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with Glenelg, he scored his breakthrough first ‘A’ grade century
against a West Torrens attack, which included South Australia’s
Sheffield Shield opening bowlers Alan Hitchcox and Peter
Trethewey.
The more the pair bounced him, the harder he hit it. The
second new ball was taken and after one pulled 4 against
Hitchcox, Chappell said, ‘Fancy you opening the bowling for
South Australia!’
A fired-up Hitchcox hurled down three consecutive
bouncers, all of which were hooked to the backward square
boundaries. In four balls Chappell advanced from 84 to 100. ‘It
was magnificent cricket,’ said Chappell’s batting partner Des
Selby. ‘Here was a young guy who was very special. He was ready
to play big cricket.’
Years later, speaking at a birthday party for Trethewey,
Chappell thanked the old paceman for his part in helping him
advance first to state ranks and on to Test cricket. ‘He then went
on to give the guests a blow-by-blow account of his innings
that day at Glenelg Oval including every boundary he hit off
DISPARAGING: ‘Fancy you opening the bowling for
South Australia,’ said a teenage Ian Chappell to Alan Hitchcox
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BAD BOYS
our bowling,’ said Trethewey. ‘He has a photographic memory.
It was one of the best innings that I saw in grade cricket by one
of Australia’s most accomplished cricketers. And it was a very
significant one for him as it got him into the state team. “Hitch”
certainly was upset with him. The shorter he bowled at Ian the
harder he got hit.’
�
A
Both barrels
s a fifteen-year-old, Trethewey was chosen by Woodville
to debut in its ‘B’ grade team.
The captain of the opposition was Ian Chappell’s father
Martin, who happened to be on strike when Trethewey bowled
his first over in grade cricket. He hit four 4s from it and declared,
‘Keep bowling that crap son and I’ll keep hitting you for 4.’
Trethewey had a second over which again went for 16, all 4s,
Chappell repeating the message.
Woodville’s captain Jack Causby told Chappell in no
uncertain terms ‘to lay off the kid’ and their conversation became
quite heated. ‘Needless to say,’ Trethewey said, ‘Chappell kept
up the sledging. It must be in the genes!’
�
F
‘Are you ready now, Alec?’
ew bowled their overs quicker than the overweight,
undertrained and often outspoken county off-breaker B D
‘Bomber’ Wells, who’d wheel in off one or two steps with the
quickest possible arm action, often catching the unwary still
looking down at their crease while their stumps were lurching
drunkenly behind them.
It’s reputed that once at Worcester, Wells bowled an entire
over while the cathedral clock struck twelve.
One day, a rookie fieldsman, totally oblivious of Bomber’s
liking to get on with it, was sure Bomber bowled only three
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balls in one over. But he’d actually missed the other three as he’d
turned his back to walk back to his position!
Umpire Alec Skelding once put his arm out to stop Bomber
from bowling at a newcomer, who was looking down at the
crease rather than at the other end. Neatly bypassing the
roadblock, Bomber jogged to short cover and wheeled back
across the pitch to mid wicket, calling, ‘Are you ready now, Alec?’
before proceeding in his circular sweep to mid-on and back to
the crease, and then clean bowling the astonished batsman.
Bomber was to amass 998 first-class wickets, not that he was
ever in serious contention for a Test place given his total lack
of batting acumen, his average catching ability, non-existent
enthusiasm for chasing balls to the boundary and occasional
politically incorrect quips!
Representing the Combined Services against the Public
Schools at Lord’s, Bomber commented rather savagely on
the ability of one schoolboy leg spinner who had resorted to
bowling seam-up in mid-over.
‘I thought this clown was supposed to bowl leg breaks,’ said
Bomber to no-one in particular on the players’ balcony.
‘I never comment on my son’s ability,’ came a nearby voice,
before the speaker went back inside the pavilion.
Wells was quickly ushered to a quiet corner by his captain.
‘Bomber, I think your chances of Test cricket began and ended
with that remark.’
‘I’m not with you skipper . . .’
‘The man who just left was R W V Robins, the Test selector.’
The nervous young leggie was Robins’ son Charles.
See also: ‘One of you is out’, page 306
�
S
Fiery twosome
o fiery were West Australian opening bowlers Ron Gaunt
and Des Hoare on the pacy-as WACA in the late ’50s that
the local press labelled them ‘Haunt and Gore’.
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Extract - The Five Mile Press

Transcription

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