The wrong un, p.27
The Wrong 'Un, page 27
People say that you can’t change Test cricket. I’d remind them about the outcry when the game went from eight-ball overs to six-ball overs. How long did it take for everyone to get over that? It was only a few months. Rules change in one-day cricket all the time, and everyone gets used to it. We’re in a new era here. We’re trying to promote the game to kids. We have to continue being innovative.
20.
RED-HOT SCORCHERS
‘Brad has been a great role model to so many people, because of his incredible work ethic, [and his] incredible focus to do well. I’m not sure if I have ever seen anyone work harder on their game.’
Justin Langer
Playing for the Perth Scorchers has been, to date, the most enjoyable cricketing experience of my life. It’s not due to the success that we enjoyed, which included two Big Bash titles, but the culture we created. We weren’t simply well drilled; we all backed each other. I’ve worn the baggy green, and I was involved in two World Cup triumphs, but to be involved in a team that turned around cricket in Western Australia was even more special.
When I first joined the West Australian ranks, the side was a strong unit. During the 1970s and ’80s, WA cricket was a powerhouse. Then it went through a slump, emerging in the late 1990s with Sheffield Shield titles in 1997–98 and 1998–99. After that we didn’t appear in a first-class final for 15 years. The victories of the Scorchers brought back some respectability to WA cricket, especially as the team was based around homegrown talent.
I loved being part of that success. I don’t think I’ve ever bowled better than in the years following my comeback. I practised endlessly but I felt confident and settled. Having a happy home life was crucial; again I’m indebted to Cheryl – my wife, my manager, my best mate.
The Scorchers have been the Big Bash’s most successful team, and repeatedly see packed houses at the WACA ground, which of course transforms into ‘The Furnace’. They were the first team to sell out all home matches in a season, and it was a great thrill to see so many spectators, including countless families, enjoying the experience. It’s a wonderful thing that people want to watch domestic cricket again.
It was at the Scorchers that I revived my career at the end of 2011. I didn’t expect anything more than a season, and even then I wondered if I was too long retired to handle that level of cricket. Back then, I thought the Big Bash was a bit of a gimmick, but it quickly turned into a serious tournament. The franchise model is taking cricket forward, creating a dynamism that has been missing for years. Everyone is up for grabs – state players who were in the shadows are now becoming household names. I hope one day the Big Bash creates a live player auction like the IPL’s; it’s thrilling entertainment to watch as players are bought, passed in or sold to the highest bidder.
At the time the Scorchers approached me, the Adelaide Strikers had also shown an interest. But I never regretted sticking with my home state. I didn’t expect to be playing all the games; I thought they’d probably just include me for the Sydney match. But I was soon right in the thick of it.
That first season in 2011–12 was a wonderful campaign, especially as we had been written off by the media prior to the tournament as ‘pensioners’. The team included seven players over 30: Marcus North, Paul Collingwood, Ben Edmonson, Herschelle Gibbs, Michael Hussey, Simon Katich and me. I was the oldest at 40. Lachie Stevens was appointed coach after Mickey Arthur took on the national coaching role.
The old boys performed well on the field, but we really excelled off it, with our work ethic and attention to detail when preparing for matches setting good examples for the younger players, including Shaun and Mitchell Marsh, Nathan Coulter-Nile and Michael Beer. They soon produced some exceptional displays of talent. After a thrilling season, which culminated in us winning the right to host the final against the Sydney Sixers at The Furnace, the title just escaped us.
On the back of that success, the Scorchers consolidated as a Twenty20 powerhouse in the second Big Bash League, in 2012–13. It also included the Marsh brothers, Adam Voges, Jason Behrendorff (a recent import from Canberra), Ashton Agar, who had just made his record-breaking 98 as last man in his Test debut against England, and the wily Coulter-Nile. That team was coached by Justin Langer and captained again by Simon Katich.
This was the season when the Scorchers really grabbed the attention of the locals. Crowd figures at the WACA began to increase at a dramatic rate, the orange supporter army won many new recruits, and media interest in us intensified. The Scorchers took an intelligent approach to the game, working hard on fitness, fielding combinations, tactics, batting strategies and opponent analysis. Hit and giggle? Not at the Scorchers.
Langer’s philosophy was that, despite all the analysis, it was still important to have a simple game plan. We took the competition very seriously and made another appearance in the final, but didn’t get the gold.
Our momentum carried through to 2013–14. Katich, after 17 years of first-class cricket, announced it would be his farewell season, and Mitchell Marsh was also in great form, with several swashbuckling innings. The burly Craig Simmons became an unexpected hero when he scored a century against the Sydney Sixers, with the win in that match earning us a home final against the Hobart Hurricanes.
I knew I had to perform. I was on a big stage, and playing in front of more than 20,000 people – the biggest crowd to a domestic match at the WACA in 60 years. The moment brought out the best in me.
We batted first, and the bulk of our top order contributed, with Simmons making 45, Voges 27, Mitch Marsh 37 and Shaun Marsh 63 not out, enabling us to score a substantial total of 4 for 191.
I was brought on midway through the Hurricanes’ run chase. It was the eleventh over and they were starting to assert themselves at 2 for 75. As I marked out my run-up the crowd were going berserk. It was probably the loudest I’d ever heard them scream. It really hit me, and I felt myself tightening up. I couldn’t believe this was happening, at this late stage of my career. I kept saying to myself, Concentrate. Don’t let them down. I don’t want to make a dick of myself. I had to mark my run-up again because I was so taken aback by the chanting.
I slowed myself down and took my time to get in the right headspace. Then a new thought hit me: This could be my last game … Stuff this, I’m gonna give it all I’ve got.
The Hurricanes were behind the required run rate, but had plenty of wickets to spare. This was due to the terrific work of Behrendorff, Coulter-Nile and Alfonso Thomas. The pressure they had built up allowed me to be a bit more aggressive, and I gave a wrong ’un to Jonathan Wells plenty of air; luckily it turned and he was stumped. The chanting went up a few decibels. I was thrilled to get Travis Birt out next, as he’d made me look like an absolute amateur in our previous contest, hitting me to all parts of the ground.
At the end of the match I was running around with my teammates, celebrating our win. After two losing finals, we’d finally cracked it and won. I was still carrying on when someone told me I was being called up to the podium.
‘What for?’ I asked.
‘Man of the match,’ they told me.
‘Surely Behrendorff’s man of the match,’ I said. He’d bowled superbly and set the tone for our victory.
‘No, it’s you,’ they insisted.
Sheepishly I went up and accepted the award, although I didn’t feel I really deserved it. Like Granddad, I never felt that personal trophies mattered much.
Still, you couldn’t wipe the smile off my face, and not just because we got the win. I was also acutely aware of what we had achieved. Cricket participation rates in Western Australia were on the rise, and the game was reinventing itself to become a favourite summer pastime for West Australians once again. It was a very emotional moment.
The WACA has seen many moments bringing tears of joy, but few have been as overwhelming as when the Scorchers enjoyed their first domestic competition success in 10 years. At front and centre of all the celebrations were the old WA stalwarts Katich, Langer and me.
The next morning, arm-in-arm with my triumphant teammates, my face was all over the back page of the West Australian, whose headline shouted ‘Red-hot Scorchers’. I looked like someone who had just won with the lottery – although this time, I realised, the winnings should be used for something far more lasting than a souped-up Mazda 929.
My desolate days travelling to Fremantle beach looking for answers were now long gone. I had my life back.
*
Justin Langer, with the support of senior players, wanted to create a dynasty at the Scorchers, finding the right mixture of experience and youth to ensure that our triumph wouldn’t be a one-off. The selectors chose wisely in the 2014–15 season, realising our players would be a prime target for everyone else. They focused on those who had performed, rather than the big names, as they knew that luring costly stars can sometimes destabilise a group of players who had combined perfectly.
Local talent was pushed, giving the Scorchers an even stronger WA identity. We brought in some good imports, in particular Michael Klinger from South Australia, and Yasir Arafat and Michael Carberry from the UK. We worked hard to promote the team in the local area. The creativity of the promotions went up a notch with Glenn Foreman at the helm; he understood how to capitalise on my outrageous side. It was daunting, but I love to push myself to do things I don’t think I can do. Ten years ago I never would have had the courage to do those things. Now I just laugh and go for it.
Over the years, while banging the Scorchers drum I have donned a full-body lycra suit and swum the icy Swan River waters at 4 a.m., I’ve dressed up as Santa, I’ve performed in two rap music videos, and I’ve attended countless events for sponsors, schools, corporates, media and charities. It’s a new age, and I’ve relished every bit of it. I’m always more than happy to send myself up in public – it’s all great fun and good for the game.
But by far the most important thing for me was performing well on the centre wicket. At 43 I was now Australia’s oldest domestic player since Queensland legspinner Malcolm Francke, who played three Sheffield Shield matches in the 1985–86 season. I missed the first few games of the new Big Bash season due to a hamstring complaint, but I returned in the New Year against the Adelaide Strikers.
The Scorchers had only won two of their first four matches, and appeared destined to be out of finals contention after we struggled to make just 6 for 133. The Strikers were cruising at 3 for 74 in the 12th over. Travis Head came down the wicket to one of my misdirected legspinners; the ball was wider than I wanted, but as luck would have it, he missed it and got stumped. A run-out straight after, and then another wicket, meant that all of a sudden the Strikers were 6 for 79. They could not recover and we won by 18 runs.
We built our momentum from that match, and made yet another finals appearance, this time against the Sydney Sixers at the neutral venue of Manuka Oval, in Canberra. The game was originally to be played in Perth, but due to World Cup requirements it had to be moved.
The match had a heart-stopping finish. Chasing a score of 147, we relied heavily on opener Shaun Marsh, before a succession of wickets in the final over saw us needing a single off the last ball for the win. Brett Lee was on a hat-trick, and about to bowl the last ball of his last over before retiring from all formats of the game. You could hear a pin drop as he bounded in.
Yasir Arafat connected and charged down the wicket, and the ball was fielded and thrown to the bowler’s end. It appeared inevitable that Arafat would be dismissed as he was well short of his ground. A run-out would have seen the scores tied, bringing about a super over to determine the victor.
But Sydney’s Moises Henriques fumbled the ball over the stumps, and Arafat scampered home to complete the winning run. Lee and Henriques were in a state of utter disbelief, struggling to comprehend how they had bungled the final moment. No doubt adding to their frustration, they were soon surrounded by all the Scorchers players, and we knew we’d got away with the luckiest break of all. But as our captain, Adam Voges, argued, ‘We have developed a culture of belief that we can win any game from any position. There is no secret formula. We work hard, we scrap, we keep ourselves in the contest and we never give up.’
No wonder the West Australian’s John Townsend led his match report the following morning with: ‘Perth Scorchers deserve to be ranked alongside some of WA’s greatest sporting teams after securing their second consecutive Big Bash League title.’ That seemed a fair call, especially since we’d been involved in all four Big Bash finals. That run ended in 2015–16, when we faltered in our semi-final, against the Melbourne Stars.
It wasn’t my best season, and I thought it was ambitious of my past captain Ricky Ponting to state that I should be selected in the Australian squad for the forthcoming T20 World Cup. But I didn’t give up hope.
*
I put some of the Scorchers’ success down to ideas borrowed from other successful sporting teams, in particular New Zealand’s All Blacks. Their winning culture has been in place for years, and they protect it doggedly. Apart from the All Blacks’ overwhelming domination of world rugby, they are also renowned for refusing to allow any of their members to become big-heads. Their prime aim is to protect the All Black brand.
All players are given responsibilities, and some of them might surprise the onlooker. It’s not unusual to see their best-known players, such as Richie McCaw or Daniel Carter, sweeping out the dressing rooms after Test matches, or helping pack bags onto the team bus. In New Zealand, being an All Black is regarded as an honour. The players are revered, not just in the Shaky Isles but all over the world.
The Scorchers’ core values emphasise that everyone has to band together and do the hard work. That keeps the whole staff level-headed and grounded. The core values extend across the entire business, from the bloke at the front gate, to the curators, the (overworked) marketing department and the volunteers – team spirit brings them all together. I recall that same atmosphere within the 2003 Australian World Cup team. We all got on really well, and we knew we would succeed. We had faith in each other.
The original Scorchers squad began that culture, and over the years the players and staff built on it and watched it grow. They recruited people who worked their guts out and who fitted into the group. The players expected so much from each other as well. If someone was not pulling their weight, even the younger guys had the courage to pull older players up.
The dressing room must remain a place where people are honest with each other. I always encourage the younger guys to take the mickey out of me. I’ve always maintained that if people aren’t taking the piss out of me, they don’t like me. It also helps to ease the tension within the dressing room. Sometimes you have to lighten the atmosphere, and I’ve never had any problem doing that.
I’m happy to be known as the king of the kids. I want to make sure they, especially, leave the ground happy after every game, and that it’s been memorable for them. I don’t leave the stadium until I know every kid who wants one has got an autograph; that can sometimes mean there’s little left to eat in the change rooms by the time I get there. I know first-hand how important sporting heroes are to young kids. Geoff Marsh made the effort to reach out to me when I was at a formative age. His example and guidance meant so much to me.
When I was about 15 I met the legendary Hawthorn footballer Dermott Brereton. I spied him in a shop in Perth. He stopped and talked to me for 10 minutes, which was so special for me, especially as I was an intense Hawthorn fan.
I remember thinking that if I ever got to play cricket for Australia, I wanted to follow the examples of Geoff and Dermott, and and be a positive influence on the lives of young people. Throughout my career that was always at the back of my mind. It only takes seconds to have a couple of words with someone, but it can be unforgettable for the fan.
When I played cricket with Geoff’s two sons, Shaun and Mitch, I felt like I had really come full circle. It was an awesome feeling.
*
I’m extremely grateful that people seem to like the way I play the game. These days I’m less intense. If I drop a catch, I turn around and have a bit of a laugh with the crowd. I was recently playing in a game in Sydney and three blokes were constantly booing me. I turned around and said, ‘I love you blokes. I love you three. Beautiful. Keep doing it all day.’ They had a chuckle about it. There was no point in me having a go at them; they’d paid their money. Why try to upset them? Instead, I tried to make their experience better. They soon stopped booing me and started cheering instead.
In my first one-day game for Western Australia at the MCG, we didn’t have our names on our uniforms. I was fielding on the fence, near Bay 13, and someone yelled out to me, ‘Kelly, you’re a wanker!’ They had mistaken me with our opening bat Rob Kelly. So I kept waving to them. They kicked a footy out to me, and I booted it back to them. After that I thought I had got them back onside. Then a kid, who looked about 12 years old, asked me for an autograph. I signed it Brad Hogg. The kid looked at my autograph and yelled out, ‘It’s not Kelly, it’s Hogg! Hogg, you wanker!’
Another time, in Auckland, I had an orange thrown at me. To calm the situation I began to eat it. Then I called out to the crowd that I was hungry – could they could throw some more out to me?
I like to share my love of cricket. When I speak at functions, I bring my baggy green along. I’ll slap it onto the head of a kid or a fan and enjoy seeing the excitement they get out of touching, feeling, even getting photographed with a revered baggy green cap on top of their noggin.
To me, there’s more to the game of cricket than just what happens out in the middle. The game has been my life, but it doesn’t matter if the kids in the crowd want to play it themselves. I just want to inspire them to achieve what they want to achieve.
