Almanac Cricket: Muschy – the left-handed adjudicator

 

 

Soon as that ball hits the keeper’s glove and he threw it to first slip you relax. You stand there and watch the ball go round. You had to watch the ball to make sure no one picks the seam or rubs it in the dirt. You could always tell with the keeper. He’d squat for a slow bowler. You could never hear a slow bowler coming in. A fast bowler, you can hear him coming in. They’re signs to say right, switch on, because you make one mistake it could ruin your career.

 

• Lawrie Musch – January 2023

 

A career on the walls and in cabinets

 

Lawrie Muschy Musch is 72, with a kind smile and a reserved manner of talking. He showed me the balls he’d kept from his career – white balls from domestic one-day games and a red ball from the Sheffield Shield game he umpired. Signed cricket bats adorn the walls of his Beenleigh home. Photos of him with Queensland and international teams, and standing proudly with Queensland umpires. Shirts he wore while umpiring are framed, hanging on the wall next to a large poster of Ricky Ponting smacking a boundary. From a glass cabinet, Muschy showed me nine medals he had received during his career. One – the Bob Spence Medal – was for Umpire of the Year (1999/2000). The others represented top 10 finishes in the Bob Spence Medal. I handled the balls used in first class games, turning them over and observing the scuff marks and damage to the seam.

 

With a wicked smile, he took a small box from a shelf and handed me an unused kookaburra ball from a shield game, one he’d forgotten to give back. The ball was dark red, unblemished, and with a prominent seam. I’d never handled a ball made for a shield game before.

 

Opening a small plastic container, Muschy showed me bails he had kept, and the tools of his trade, including a counter, spanner and scissors. He fingered a bunch of sprigs that once belonged to Allan Border, and wouldn’t tighten in his new cricket shoes. Border gave them to Muschy to look after, and forgot to reclaim them.

 

Gazing at the items he kept from a long career, Muschy smirked and turned to me. ‘I wasn’t much of a cricketer,’ he said.

 

The beginning

 

Growing up on a farm near Beenleigh, Muschy didn’t have time to play junior cricket. After school and on weekends, he had to get home to help with the cows. When the work was done, his mother would occasionally bowl to him and his brothers.

 

Sporting success ran through Muschy’s extended family. His second cousin, Tom Veivers was an all-rounder and played 21 Test matches for Australia. Two cousins, Mick and Greg Veivers played rugby league for Australia, and their brother Phil played rugby league in England.

 

Muschy started playing senior cricket for Beenleigh when he was around 18 and quickly realised his limitations. He batted at ten or eleven, and rarely got a bowl. ‘I was out there to make up the numbers,’ he admitted. ‘I could run and field and throw.’

 

Senior cricket was tough. Muschy quickly found out how hard the ball was, how it felt to get hit or get out or drop a catch. But he recalls making cricket harder than it should’ve been. ‘The worst part was when you go out on Saturday night, because we used to play Sundays,’ he said with a laugh at those mornings when he fronted with a hangover.

 

Back in the eighties, the Beenleigh association had no umpires. Clubs had to use their own players as umpires, the duty shared among teammates. Usually, a player from both sides would do an hour, then swap with a teammate at drinks or lunch or tea.

 

One morning, Muschy umpired the first hour and wandered off the field at drinks. The scorer dropped his pen. ‘It’s your turn to score,’ he said.

 

‘No thanks,’ Muschy said. ‘I’d rather be out there.’

 

‘Good, you can do it,’ the scorer said, tapping he scoresheet. ‘I’d rather be here than out there.’

 

Muschy returned to the field. Batting late in the order, he had plenty of time to umpire.  ‘That’s where I learned it,’ he said.

 

For six years, he alternated between playing an umpiring, and realised he enjoyed umpiring more than playing. He umpired fairly, but said the opposition didn’t always respect the rules. With a frown, he recalled one game when the opposition umpire made a couple of bad mistakes. One of Muschy’s teammates was 80 not out, and was given out LBW when the ball hit him on the bum. After the game, and over a few beers, Muschy told his captain he was disgusted.

 

‘I’m finished,’ he said. ‘I’m going to umpire.’

 

 

Six years of playing and voluntarily umpiring senior cricket had given Muschy an understanding of the game, and he knew the rules. He joined a country association. Travelling the grounds of Beenleigh and to Beaudesert, Redlands, Boonah and the Gold Coast, he umpired in the Web Shield and Plunkett Cup.

 

‘I never had any training,’ he said. ‘Then I went to warehouse cricket and I sat an oral exam for them.’

 

While umpiring warehouse cricket, Muschy was appointed mostly to games in the Beenleigh region. The farthest he travelled was to Tingalpa. Umpiring games on matting and synthetic grass, he longed to adjudicate on turf pitches. One night at a function, he asked the association secretary to send him further.

 

‘Can I have a couple of games at Victoria Park?’ Muschy asked.

 

The secretary raised his eyebrows. ‘Do you want to travel that far?’

 

‘I’m not here to make money,’ Muschy replied. ‘I just want to umpire a game of cricket.’

 

The secretary sent him to Brisbane to umpire warehouse cricket.

 

Muschy was being paid around $50 a day to umpire warehouse cricket, and after years of umpiring country and warehouse cricket, his ambition grew. Beenleigh didn’t have an umpire’s association, so Muschy quit warehouse and country cricket in 1987.

 

‘I came back to Beenleigh and started my own association,’ he said. ‘I was the only umpire in Beenleigh. The Beenleigh Cricket Association said we’ve got to start somewhere. And in three years I had ten umpires.’

 

When word filtered out that Muschy had started his own umpire’s association, local teams embraced him. They knew him from his playing days, and he attracted ex-players and ex-coaches to his panel. All they needed was black pants and a white shirt. Muschy made sure they understood the rules, then out they went.

 

‘Some of them lasted three or four years,’ he said. ‘One elderly bloke was retired. He started down here then went to warehouse. When the school holidays were on and school teams played, he used to umpire five days in a row at $90 a day – tax free.’

 

Muschy never complained about money. After establishing his own association, he met with officials from the Beenleigh region, and they agreed to pay him $50 a day. Every second Saturday, Muschy would take his wife and kids to the Beenleigh Cricket Club for dinner and a couple of beers. The players would go back to the club after a game, and Muschy would chat to them about the day over a beer.

 

Although Muschy was umpiring first-grade in Beenleigh, the cricket wasn’t the same standard of that in the Brisbane region. Wanting to test himself, in 1989 he made a change.

 

‘I went to Brisbane,’ he said.

 

 

Brisbane – and a watchful eye

 

Despite fourteen years of umpiring experience behind him, Muschy started off in third-grade in Brisbane. He recalls the captain handing him his money before his debut game had started.

 

‘You’re supposed to pay me after the game,’ Muschy said.

 

The captain shook his head. ‘All the umpires want their money before the game so they can scoot off home.’

 

Muschy gazed at the money and pocketed it. ‘I want to know where you have your beers. I’ll be with you.’

 

After the game, Muschy went to the pub where the players had assembled, and had a beer with them. ‘I got to know a lot of the teams by associating after the game,’ he said.

 

During his second match in third-grade, a stately man wandered the boundary with a wizened eye, watching and observing.

 

Mel Johnson was a handy cricketer, once the captain-coach of Queanbeyan in New South Wales. A back injury incurred while bending over to pick up a pack of smokes ended his career, and he turned to umpiring. Johnson stood in 21 Tests and 49 one-day games between 1980-88. After retiring as an international umpire at 46, Johnson stayed involved as an advisor to umpires in the Brisbane league.

 

At Cannon Hill, Johnson watched Muschy closely, and didn’t detect any dissention from the players. After the day’s play, Johnson sought out the captains. One of them gave Muschy an appraisal. ‘He’s too bloody good for us. Don’t put him up a grade.’

 

The following week, Muschy was selected in second-grade, where he stayed for the remainder of the year.

‘

My second year, I was in first-grade,’ he said. ‘When I got up into the first-grade, some of the players said where the hell have you been?’

 

Johnson kept a close eye on all the umpires. Initially, he told Muschy that he would spend a year in third-grade, and work his way up in his second and third years. Johnson was pleased with Muschy’s swift ascension, took an interest in his career and offered him sage advice.

 

‘Don’t be frightened if you made a little mistake,’ Johnson said. ‘If you make a howler, you’ll be in trouble.’

 

One year, before the season began, Johnson took the panel to Noosa for a couple of nights. He had the umpires bat and bowl – match simulation – with two umpires officiating. Johnson stood off to the side, making sure they called no-balls, wides and got into position for runouts.

 

‘He looked after us,’ Muschy said. ‘We were doing match play for the new umpires instead of sitting in a room watching cricket on television and listening to officials talk.’

 

In Brisbane, Muschy was earning $80 a day. Back then, the games were on Saturdays unless a special game required play on Saturday and Sunday. At the end of each game, the captains filled out an umpire assessment form.

 

‘You could always tell the winner or the loser,’ Muschy said of those assessment forms.

 

When Johnson read negative assessments, he usually made a phone call to the captain. With a practised ear – batsmen never thought they were out and bowlers always thought the batsmen was out – Johnson would listen, quell the rage and gather a more realistic assessment.

 

Muschy can recall giving decisions in first-grade which, in hindsight, he felt he might’ve gotten wrong. After a game, if the captain argued against the decision, Muschy would offer an apologetic shrug.

 

‘Just the way I saw it,’ he would say.

 

Occasionally, he thought he may have adjudicated wrongly, but he never admitted his doubts to the captains. ‘Sometimes there’d be a flick down the leg side,’ he said. ‘You can’t always tell whether it’s off the pad or off the glove or off the bat. So you say not out.’

 

In the absence of definitive proof, the benefit of the doubt always went to the batsman.

 

He recalls former Australian captain Greg Chappell chatting to a first-grade umpire after a game. ‘How did you go?’ Chappell asked.

 

‘Great,’ the umpire replied.

 

‘Bullshit,’ Chappell stated. ‘No umpire has a great game. Little mistakes, but we don’t crucify you for that. It’s the howlers.’

 

To play the game of grade cricket is to accept the umpire’s decision, whether they’re howlers or not.

 

 

It’s a tough game

 

 

One morning during a first-grade game, the pitch had no bounce but it was fast. The ball was skidding through. Former Queensland opener Trevor Barsby was facing, and was hit on the pads. The bowler and fielders went up, and Barsby walked without waiting for Muschy’s decision.

 

‘He just turned and took off,’ Muschy said with a smile. ‘Tank (Barsby) was a fair player as in sportsmanship. They’re the easy ones to give out.’

 

In another first-grade game, former Australian fast bowler Andy Bichel lofted a straight drive. As the ball left the bat, Muschy leant over to get out of the way. The bowler stuck his hand out at a futile attempt at a catch and the ball flicked his fingers, changing its course. Instinctively, Muschy stuck his left hand in front of his face.

 

‘My hand hit my head,’ he said.

 

The ball did too.

 

Ice was brought onto the field. Muschy wasn’t worried about his head, because his hand was swelling. Bichel walked down the pitch and had a look. ‘Muschy,’ he said. ‘That was runs you stopped.’

 

After the game, Bichel fronted with a beer and a grin. ‘How’s the hand?’ he asked and handed over the beer.

 

‘It’s okay,’ Muschy said. ‘I can still put one finger up.’

 

Gavin Fitness played three first-class games for Queensland. Muschy recalls Fitness was an excellent wicketkeeper, but was in the queue behind Ian Healy and Wade Seccombe. During a first-grade game at Sandgate, Fitness was standing up at the stumps to a medium pacer. The ball hit the batsman’s pad and deflected to the boundary.

 

As Muschy signalled four leg-byes, Fitness was waiting for the ball to be returned from the boundary and didn’t see the signal. After retrieving the ball, Fitness threw it on and looked at Muschy.

 

‘What was that?’ Fitness asked.

 

Muschy held his left arm up. ‘Byes,’ he said.

 

‘It hit his pad,’ Fitness complained, pointing at the batsman.

 

‘No, it hit yours.’

 

Perturbed, Fitness shook his head. ‘You got one wrong.’

 

At lunch, Fitness was the first player off the field. His father was scoring and Fitness hurried to the table, bending over the scorebook. When he saw there were no byes against his name, he shook his head. ‘You bastard,’ he said to Muschy. ‘You got me.’

 

Muschy just smiled.

 

It was a rare moment of fun on the field during first-grade cricket, which Muschy recalls as fierce. First-grade players are competitive by nature, and that can spill over into abuse, or mental disintegration as Steve Waugh infamously described sledging. Muschy didn’t tolerate abuse, and if a bowler or fielder picked at someone, he’d give them a warning.

 

‘Come on, leave him alone,’ he would say. ‘He’s done nothing. Get on with the game.’

 

Fast bowler Brendan Creevey played 12 first-class games for Queensland. Muschy described Creevey as a bowler who occasionally let his competitive streak get the better of him. Several times, Muschy had to warn Creevey about his behaviour.

 

One afternoon, Creevey accidentally knocked a bail off the stumps in his delivery stride. Bending down to gather the bail, Muschy split the arse out of his pants.

 

Creevey heard the rip and laughed. Recalling those warnings from Muschy, Creevey leered at him. ‘I’ve got something to pay you back with.’

 

‘Don’t you dare,’ Muschy said. ‘If you shuffle across the crease when you’re batting, I’ll give you out LBW.’

 

Knowing Muschy’s threat was idle, Creevey returned to his bowling mark. The split in Muschy’s pants didn’t bother him. He was experienced enough to wear black underpants under his black trousers.

 

 

Progression

 

On 11 October 1998, after more than 20-years of umpiring, Muschy was selected for his first domestic one-day game between Queensland and Tasmania at the Gabba. He was in the box, as third umpire.

 

Almost a month later, Muschy made his debut in a domestic one-day game as the on-field umpire. A photo taken before play, with the scoreboard in the background shows Muschy grinning alongside Jim Torpey, the other on-field umpire. He looks content, satisfied that he had progressed beyond first-grade after such a long apprenticeship.

 

On 27 January 1999, he was third umpire, watching from the box, and proved that cricket is one, large community.

 

A kid sat in front of the box with his grandfather. The kid kept turning and looking at Muschy. When Muschy stood to stretch his legs, the kid offered a wave. Muschy recalls the kid watching him more than the cricket. At the lunch break, Muschy emerged from the box. ‘Would you like to come up and have a look from behind the glass?’ he asked.

 

The kid couldn’t believe it. ‘Can I?’

 

Inside the box, the kid looked at the monitors and the ground through the glass. Muschy pointed to a chair. ‘You are not to speak in case they need me, but we can talk when there’s a break in play.’

 

During breaks in play, they talked about cricket and umpiring. Muschy asked the kid how old he was.

 

‘I’m twelve.’

 

‘Do you play cricket?’

 

‘We play on Sundays.’

 

‘Tomorrow,’ Muschy said. ‘When you tell your mates you spent time in the umpire’s box, you reckon your teammates will believe you?’

 

‘They won’t believe me.’ The kid grinned and shook his head.

 

As the kid left the box and returned to his grandfather, the old man turned and waved thanks to Muschy.

 

Another time when Muschy was third umpire, former Australian batsman Greg Blewett knocked on the door and introduced himself. Blewett sat in the box, watching how it all worked and asking questions about obscure rules.

 

‘Just talking cricket,’ Muschy said.

 

If he’d broken any rules by having people in the box, he didn’t care, and no one ever questioned him about it.

 

 

On 30 October 1999, Muschy umpired an international first-class game between Queensland and Pakistan at Allan Border Field. His first international, Muschy greeted the players with a smile and handshake. Pakistan had a solid team. Led by Wasim Akram, the team featured Inzamam-ul-Haq, Yousef Youhana, Mushtaq Ahmed and Shoaib Akhtar.

 

Queensland also had a strong team, with Matty Hayden and Jim Maher opening, followed by Martin Love, Stuart Law and Andrew Symonds. Bichel, Alan Dale and Scott Muller backed up the batsmen.

 

Muschy did the first over, and Akram, a legend of the game, bustled in and let the ball fly. After the over, Muschy went to square leg, and took a deep breath to calm the nerves. ‘I felt like I’d had a shower,’ he said. ‘It wasn’t a hot day and the sweat is just rolling off me. And then I was right after that. I had a good game.’

 

Queensland made 274 in their first innings, with Symonds hitting 78. Pakistan responded with 276, steadied by 83 from Azhar Mahmood. Hayden and Law made hundreds in Queensland’s second innings, setting up their declaration at 5/318. Inzamam and Saeed Anwar made half-centuries in Pakistan’s second innings, but the tourists were bowled out for 204, losing by 112 runs.

 

On 14 January 2000, Muschy made his Sheffield Shield debut at Allan Border Field, umpiring a shield match between Queensland and Tasmania. Winning the toss, Queensland elected to bowl, skittling Tasmania for 130. In reply, Queensland was bowled out for 365 with Clinton Perren hitting 153. In their second innings, Tasmania were bowled out for 155, and Queensland won by an innings and 80 runs.

 

Muschy also umpired a four-day trial game before Australia’s domestic cricket season started, between Queensland and New Zealand at Allan Border Field. New Zealand were heading to South Africa and couldn’t train at home due to inclement weather. The game against Queensland, and exhibition games scheduled in Hong Kong on the way to South Africa were for valuable match practice.

 

Standing at square leg, Muschy nodded hello to Nathan Astle, who played 81 Tests for New Zealand. Astle gazed at the sky. ‘Geez you’ve got it lucky over here,’ he said. ‘Short sleeves, playing cricket at the end of August. I rang home an hour ago and it’s pelting down rain and three below.’

 

Muschy grinned, then turned his concentration to the wicket.

 

 

With a difference

 

Muschy is left-handed. It set him apart from almost all the other umpires he knew. During a domestic one-day game at the Gabba, Richie Benaud was commentating. After giving a batsman out, Benaud ignored the dismissal. ‘We’ve got a left-hander at the Gabba,’ Benaud said. ‘And I don’t mean a batsman or bowler. We don’t see many left-handed umpires.’

 

Firing people out left-handed might’ve been a point of difference from other umpires, but the players didn’t care. Being given out aggravated them, regardless if they knew they were out or not. During a domestic one-day game, Muschy gave Victorian captain Darren Berry runout. Berry fired up, and swore at Muschy. The players heard it, and the other umpire heard it. Muschy had no choice but to report Berry for dissent.

 

After the game, with a beer in hand, Muschy sought out Berry in the visitor’s rooms and told him he’d been reported. ‘Why the hell did you go off when you knew you were run out,’ Muschy asked.  ‘I gave you not out second ball you faced (on a close decision).’

 

‘That’s just inside us,’ Berry explained. ‘We’re never out.’

 

Berry had been runout on the field, and was out of pocket too, getting fined for swearing at Muschy.

 

Muschy said players can make the umpire’s job harder. He umpired the game fairly – without fear or favour – and admired players who didn’t appeal when they knew it wasn’t out. He disliked occasions when bowlers appealed excessively, or when a keeper went up for a catch that hadn’t been edged. He liked umpiring Wade Seccombe in first-grade cricket and domestic cricket.

 

‘I could always tell there was a wicket when Seccombe was keeping,’ Muschy said. ‘He’d catch a ball and throw it up high and sing out how’s that. If he wasn’t sure or it was not out, he’d just put his hands above his head and that was as far as he would go. He was a good guideline.’

 

There were times when Muschy couldn’t hear a faint nick, and the keeper would go up but no one else would. Or the bowler would appeal, and the keeper and slips would half-heartedly join in. After play, Muschy gave the same answer he always did – I called it as I saw it. ‘Sometimes you couldn’t hear the nicks, they were that fine,’ he said. ‘And there’s hardly a deflection.’

 

Not out. Get on with the game.

 

 

Muschy was respected in Brisbane and in the domestic scene. He never saw any ball tampering, and used to carry a small pair of scissors in his pocket. ‘If the ball got a cut on it, they’d bring it over to you and I’d trim the leather off,’ he said.

 

After graduating to shield and domestic one-day internationals, Muschy never let his ego interfere with his duty to cricket. He would umpire a domestic one-day game or first-grade game, and the following day would umpire a third or fourth-grade match. ‘Just to fill a hole,’ he said. ‘They were always short in the lower grades.’

 

Muschy did a tour of Bundaberg and Maryborough to celebrate the region’s 100-year anniversary of cricket. Four teams – one from South Africa, two from Queensland and one from Canberra – contested one-day games over a long weekend. Former Australian fast bowler Merv Hughes was playing for Canberra about three years after he retired from international cricket. Muschy recalls Hughes was still quick, and also quick with a quip. During one over, Muschy called Hughes for a wide. At the end of the over, Hughes took his sweat-soaked hat from Muschy.

 

‘You don’t give 36-year-old men wides, you prick,’ Hughes complained with a rueful grin.

 

Hughes went down to fine leg, where he’d set up bottles of sport drinks. The meagre crowd was egging Hughes on. ‘I wonder how this would go with a bit of gin in it,’ Hughes said.

 

Muschy grinned, and the crowd laughed.

 

 

 

Looking back

 

When Muschy started umpiring in the country as he called it, he had no association support. All he needed was an understanding of the rules and a white shirt and black pair of pants. A fellow umpire knew a lady who liked to crochet, and she made badges for the umpires to wear on their shirts. Muschy still has the badge.

 

He never missed playing cricket. ‘Because I wasn’t a very good player. I couldn’t bat and I couldn’t really bowl.’

 

To stay involved in a game he loved, he turned to umpiring, and provided 27 years of service to Queensland and Australian cricket. He umpired fourteen years in the country, thirteen in Brisbane and set up his own umpire’s association. Four years he was on the first-class panel with four other Queensland umpires. With five umpires on the panel for ten shield games, Muschy understood why he umpired just one shield game.

 

‘I had one main supporter and a couple of little supporters,’ he said. ‘That was my wife and kids. I said I won’t be doing it the rest of my life. When I get off the first-class panel, I’ll retire.’

 

Ultimately, it was a forced retirement. Muschy’s wife, Colleen died in the early 2000s. He had two young boys. Cricket Australia was demanding more from the first-class umpiring panel. Muschy was required to go to Melbourne for meetings, but as a widower with a job and two boys, he couldn’t find the time. He retired at 52, and Bruce Oxenford took Muschy’s place on the first-class panel.

 

Muschy loved umpiring, but in retirement he didn’t miss standing under the sun and having men scream appeals at him. ‘I missed the company,’ he explained. ‘The canteen workers. The ladies know what you want and make you a coffee.’

 

At 55, he made a comeback to senior cricket, playing for a social team in Logan Village, Tambourine, Kerry and Cedar Creek. ‘I was better at 55 than I was at 18 or 19,’ he joked. ‘Have a few overs and go off and have a drink. It wasn’t a drink of water. It was a throwdown.’

 

A social game, but fair dinkum too.

 

Muschy watches as much Test cricket as he can. He knows when a batsman is out LBW before the umpire makes his decision, and before it has been referred to DRS. ‘Just follow the path of the ball,’ he said as though it is obvious. Having umpired for 27-years, mostly without the decision referral system (DRS), he is an advocate for reviews.

 

‘Cricket needed to use the technology,’ he said. ‘Even if the umpire might’ve been just wrong, at least the right decision is given. That’s what I like about it.’

 

It has been 20-years since Muschy stood in the middle. As he showed me the mementoes he kept from a long career, the medals, the balls and Allan Border’s sprigs, I asked if he was disappointed at never umpiring a Test match.

 

He shook his head and smiled. ‘No regrets. I got there by default. I wasn’t expecting it.’

 

By default?

 

Muschy is wrong. He stood in the middle, making judgements on a game he loved for 27-years. Providing a service to cricket, to the players and the wider cricket community. He was respected and admired.

 

No umpire gets appointed to the first-class panel by default…

 

 

 

You can read more from Matt Watson Here.

 

 

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