Bad Boys - Booktopiastatic.booktopia.com.au/pdf/9781760060305-1.pdfBAD BOYS 53 Expensive one-liners...

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2Bad Boys

�Lawn bowls anyone?

It 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.

�Icebreaker

Sometimes 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.

Fav Cricket Yarns-text-finalpp_corx.indd 51 2/07/14 1:59 PM

FAVOURITE CRICKET YARNS

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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.’

�Cat tales

Asked 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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�Expensive one-liners

After 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

As 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 non-Test 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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�Stitched up

Allan Lamb was king of the mischief-makers. Eighteen-year-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.

�Half decent

For 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.

�Unimpressed

In 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.’

�A one-off

‘Hoggy’ 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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�Tit for tat

So 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.

ONE OF A KIND: Rodney Hogg WARNIE: Lots of verbals



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�Fireworks

The 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-man-in 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.’

�A narrow escape

It 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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Sarfraz, never the bravest of batsmen, was quickly out at the other end to the far more sedate mediums of Greg Chappell.

�A win-win

The 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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�Ashley’s fright, Doug’s delight

F 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, immedi ately 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 in consternation. Adding to the drama of it all – and to Doug’s

YOUNG DOUG: Dougie Walters in 1965 from the Scanlen’s Chewing Gum set


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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 . . .

�A bit of a lunatic

Richmond, 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 reason able 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.’

�The Ugly Australians

Sledging 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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�San Franciscan night

On 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 night at the local lock-up!

�Riot? What riot?

Bill 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.

INCONVENIENCED: Paul Sheahan



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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 . . .’

�Bombed out

Dougie 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.

�Running scared

Australia 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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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.

�Gotcha, skip!

Surveying 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

�From 84 to 100 . . . in four balls

It remains one of the most significant of all of Ian Chappell’s centuries. As an eighteen-year-old in his maiden season

A YOUNG COL: Colin Milburn on his way to heavyweight status



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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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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.’

�Both barrels

As 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!’

�‘Are you ready now, Alec?’

Few 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

�Fiery twosome

So 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’.


Bad Boys - Booktopiastatic.booktopia.com.au/pdf/9781760060305-1.pdfBAD BOYS 53 Expensive one-liners...

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