cricket with balls

Until today, I didn’t realise that I had been present at the end of a legend’s career – or at least his Test career.

I was kind of there for the start of it, too. I can’t think that I have done that for too many others, if any.

The legend is the one and only Jeffrey Robert Thomson. I may have picked up commentary on some of his debut, but I doubt it. I do know that I listened to his third Test, in Perth in 1974, because I remember playing with the tuning knob on my radio – which for some reason was shaped like a monkey’s head – and hearing Test Match Special crackling over the airwaves. And wondering why they were playing cricket in Scotland in the dead of winter. Well, geography wasn’t my strong point when I was 6.

What I didn’t know was that, after Australia’s thumping defeat at Edgbaston in 1985, Thommo never played Test cricket again. Which means that I didn’t see his last wicket – that happened the night before – but I did see his last catch, a flying, tumbling effort to dismiss Ian Botham on the square leg boundary, after Both had flayed 18 off 7 balls as England sought a declaration.

By that stage, he was bowling first change and clearly past his best. But I never realised that I was witnessing his swansong. Much as I enjoyed the demolition of Border’s side in that game, Thommo, the man who made his name wreaking similar havoc upon the English, deserved a better send off.

If I was a fast bowler I’d like to think I’d be like Shaun Tait or Shoaib Ahktar, erratic, a little lazy, far from stable, and only good on certain days.

Brett Lee chose a different path. He chose to try really hard, be consistent and stay humble.

There are few other proper quick bowlers who could ever be called earnest in the way Brett can. The man was fast, neat, sweaty desperation.

I can’t say Lee was ever one of my favourite cricketers, I can’t say he was an all time great of the game, but I can say the boy put in.

He put in so much he ended up arguing with Ponting, bowling beamers and breaking his body.

Perhaps I wanted him to bowl different at times, perhaps I thought he had a great ride from the selectors, but I could never doubt his desperation.

You could see his body straining for extra effort, you could see it with his batting, you could see it occasionally with the scary neck veins he had.

It wouldn’t be fair to call him a great of the game, but he could certainly play.

Most of my favourite moments from his career are from the 05 Ashes. His bowling wasn’t quite good enough, but the guy would just keep trying. His batting was almost the difference at times. It was the fact his bowling wasn’t great that made him stand out more. England kept after him, and he wouldn’t sit down. When his bowling couldn’t give him happiness, he fought like a bastard dog with the bat.

Then there was that photo.

You have all seen it, him and Freddie.

To me that photo is Brett Lee. The man wanted to be the best for his country, but in the end had to settle with just being pretty good. Few photos could explain a sport better than that one does for cricket.

If Lee gave us nothing more than that photo, he gave us enough. And he did give us more.

Thanks for the sweat.

That should be the beginning and end of the story.

Yes it is a impressive statistical achievement, but so would it be if a kid said he had masturbated every day from the age of 11 to 16.

In the end you are pretty much only beating yourself.

The West Indies came to Australia without a bowling attack, carried some strike breakers, blooded some kids and had a captain who turned up in time for the toss.

They played well at times, but ultimately look like a team that needed the other team to explode for victory, Australia flamed at times, but never combusted.

Then Pakistan came without their captain after struggling in New Zealand. They abandoned the first game, showed their keeper to be the worst keeper in a generation of the worst keepers while their stand in captain refused to captain and showed nothing more than faux teenagers.

Pakistan’s one day side was playing under a captain who was sacked before the series started, the team lived up to that decision, then they made a positive move and hired a new captain who had one of the most entertaining fuck ups in cricket history when he tried to bite the ball.

Their T20 side showed their champion status by bowling Australia out for 127, they still lost.

Then the Windies came back, not all of them though, some were still hanging around milking cash from state sides.

The Windies one day side seemed to made up of blokes who had won contests to play and a few guys who had talent but rarely used it. In their first two games they made 310 as a combined total. Surprisingly that struggled to stop the momentum of the best one day side in the world.

For some reason logic has never touched on the Windies were given two T20 games which they embarrassed themselves fully in.

The one plus about the Windies trip back was that at least distant family members were assured that Wavell Hinds was alive.

That was it, there was some rain, a defensive draw in Adelaide and Australia even beat themselves once.

It was better than losing the Ashes, Border-Gavaskar and the Mike Haysman cup, but not that much better.

They should be proud for not losing, but I wouldn’t give them anything more than a biscuit if they were my kids.

Buy the book, get a t-shirt, or donate to the whisky fund.

Part of the reason I started on this ridiculous question-answering thing is because I felt like I was in a rut.

Writing is like batting or cleaning your teeth; some times you do it better than others.

I thought the question thing might help.

And the weirdest thing has happened, I found out that not only do I like Simon Katich now; I find his whole story inspiring.

I was just answering this question, and then I looked at my answer; it shocked me.

I found Katich inspiring? Me?

The man who started calling him the Krab.

Looking at what Katich has done makes it hard to not admire him.

He has overcome being Western Australian, having Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, his technique, came back from oblivion and choking a golden child to become the most consistent test player Australia has at the moment.

Based on all that he does inspire me.

Therein lies the problem.

I enjoyed not knowing I like him.

It was something I had was holding onto and enjoying.

George Lucas never really got life, hate doesn’t lead to the dark side, it leads to a healthy life.

When Katich could be mercilessly bagged I was a happy man, now I might feel guilty and stop instead.

This question thing is to blame, so I won’t be answering any more questions, somethings are better off unknown.

From now on I will push through my bad writing form like the krab does when at the crease.