Almanac Books: ‘Second Innings: on men, mental health and cricket’ by Barry Nicholls

 

Second Innings: on men, mental health and cricket
Fremantle Press, 2021
RRP $24.99, also available in digital form.

 

Writing Second Innings: Fragments

Sometimes, a book writes you. By that, I mean the words you are writing flow so quickly that it is as if the stories are telling themselves. This eventually happened when I wrote Second Innings: On Men, Mental Health and Cricket, a deeply personal book about my life. Cricket, though, was the throughline, not the substance.

I’d been trying to write about living in a turbulent household growing up, my eldest brother’s severe illnesses and my own later encounter with anxiety and a deep depression.  But I struggled to find the words or, should I say, the right words.

I knew I was lucky to be alive. Many men in my situation weren’t.  My condition only improved with the help and incredible patience of, it must be said, two doctors, medication and six weeks off work.

When the words finally came, I knew what to include in the story but was uncertain how to tell it. It was as if I had all the pieces of a jigsaw spread out in front of me, the image I was to create, but I wasn’t sure where all the pieces fit.

I sent some of my work to Glenn, a pony-tailed, part-time musician with a gentle nature and canny way with words.

‘I like what you’ve written, but you must tell this story in alternate time zones, moving between the present and the past.’

This advice was like turning on a light bulb in a darkened room.

***

I wanted to take readers inside my old house at Lascelles Avenue in Beaumont to understand the chaos of the five-bedroom, Dutch colonial, mansard-style two-story, five-bedroom home in Adelaide’s leafy eastern suburbs. The house also held happy memories of playing cricket in the backyard nets and footy on the small triangular patch of grass across the road which we called ‘The Island’.

Our address at 17 Lascelles Avenue, Beaumont was the stage for a private war waged each night between my parents. Mum and Dad were kind, loving souls in their own right but, together, they were like dynamite. It was probably similar for many families growing up in Australia. Couples who married young had children and then found they had little in common beyond contempt, resentment, and occasional sex.

***

My parents had strong personalities (a trait passed on to me and, it seems, to two of my children). When Dad and Mum died aged 92 and 89 respectively, their passing was not an acceptance of death but rather a raging against the dying of the light – to paraphrase Dylan Thomas.

When my parents argued, the walls of our house shook like a mini earthquake had struck. Their arguments, beginning in their bedroom — an attempt, I assume, to keep it to themselves — grew louder and louder, eventually overflowing like water from an overfilled bath spilling down our wooden stairs into our lounge and kitchen. There was only the gully that sloped from our lawned backyard to escape to.

And so, for me, an underlying anger was born.  Or, at least, fostered.

I was still a child so I could not respond to this anger beyond driving it inward. That was the way I coped. My three older brothers had access to a car and motorbikes and often would leave the house amid this storm of anger. We rarely discussed what happened, but I know it affected them profoundly.

***

When both my parents were dying, the relationship between my brothers imploded (over money – what else?), and my beautiful, curly-haired, ten-year-old son Harry suddenly developed two serious illnesses. My marriage was also coming to an end. Writing for an hour or two each day helped me forget. And so, the words flowed. I wrote with Steve Bisley’s memoir Stillways at my side, thinking I’d be happy if I could be half the writer he was. Bisley’s ability to evoke a scene had inspired and, in some ways, haunted me.

***

Was it hard to write? That’s the most common question I face when giving talks about Second Innings.

My answer is always the same. The writing was easy, but the living was much more complex.

Was it cathartic?

No.

Has the anger gone?

No. But I feel a little better equipped to handle it although, like us all, I am a work in progress. I am learning it’s better to display anger, if only rarely than bury it so deep inside that you can’t reach the emotions that set it free.

I am reminded of these questions as some believe that writing about trauma can be healing. All I can say is that it wasn’t for me. It didn’t lower the din of the past nor forgive what happened to me as a child.  It did, however, help me understand a little more about the man I became.

***

I think of Second Innings as a love letter to my parents and a sign of love for my children.  I’m wiser now — less ‘bull at a gate’, as my father used to say. After my father died, my professional ambition fell off a cliff. It’s returning slowly, but it makes me wonder whether I chose the path I did to prove something to him. Maybe it was to prove that I wasn’t dumb, for he was a mathematician and as sharp as a tack. My mother used to tell me that ‘intellectuals are all strange’.  I didn’t think so. Just different.

***

I am hoping Second Innings will endure and that it will one day be appreciated.

One of the things my father said to me when I was toiling away, frustrated by the sheer volume of work that is required to write a book, ‘Barry, one day, and it might not be any time soon, your work will be appreciated.’

I think he would have appreciated this book even more.

 I hope those who read Second Innings will be reminded that there is always a path back, no matter how tough life gets.

 

To see more about Second Innings: On Men, Mental Health and Cricket go to

https://fremantlepress.com.au/books/second-innings-on-men-mental-health-and-cricket/

 

Barry Nicholls is a former A-grade district cricketer who has written about the sport for three decades. He also broadcasted on ABC Radio for nearly 20 years. Barry has written nine books, including You Only Get One Innings: Family, Mates and the Wisdom of Cricket and For Those Who Wait: The Barry Jarman Story and The Pocket History of the Ashes. He has also contributed to Inside Sport, Wisden Cricketers’ Almanac Australia and other publications.

 

To return to our Footy Almanac home page click HERE.

 

Our writers are independent contributors. The opinions expressed in their articles are their own. They are not the views, nor do they reflect the views, of Malarkey Publications.

 

Do you enjoy the Almanac concept?

And want to ensure it continues in its current form, and better? To help things keep ticking over please consider making your own contribution.

 

Become an Almanac (annual) member – CLICK HERE.