Almanac Cricket: Redders and Roger made me do it

Local Geelong author and entrepreneur John Craven was invited as a special guest to a Footy Almanac luncheon earlier this year and I was privileged to be asked as his plus one. John and I first became acquainted when I made my First Eleven debut for the Modewarre Cricket Club in 1973. I was a nervous fifteen year old and John, eleven years my senior, our more than handy left arm opening bowler.

It was my first experience with the John Harms inspired group of wannabe writers and I was immediately taken by the collective passion for sport and associated banter. My day began perfectly as I was seated beside former Geelong football captain Damian Bourke and a golden opportunity to explore past Cats glories was surprisingly presented.

I decided to pay my dues to the group after the luncheon and promised to rekindle my past writing as a volunteer local cricket correspondent. Procrastination has been my constant companion through life and some token attempts to make my maiden Almanac contribution kept stalling.

The Geelong Cricket Club recently presented me with an opportunity to act as the Master of Ceremonies for a tribute to local cricket legend Ian Redpath and the day provided a catch up with ‘Almanacker’ Roger Lowrey and a room full of cricket royalty. This was my chance to break the shackles.

Redpath was a true hero in my early years and hearing so many luminaries pay tribute to his impact on the game and their lives was inspiring. It opened my own mind to reflect on those early memories of the slender Australian batsman dancing down the pitch to the best spin bowlers, or swaying somewhat awkwardly against the most fearsome fast bowlers. He was elegant and he was equally ungainly. His erratic running between wickets and lazy work at the non strikers end plagued his early games, as did the inability to take advantage of solid starts. His concentration clearly improved in the second half of his career, as he averaged 50 in his final 33 Tests. Listening to past teammates speak of his contribution, it was clear he was a giver in the dressing room, winning respect with his team-first attitude.

Redders was one of the Aussie stars who entrenched the love of cricket into my life and I hold wonderful memories of ‘front yard’ cricket matches on the family dairy farm at Wurdi Boluc, 30 kilometres south-west of Geelong.

On warm summer evenings, with the cows safely back in the night paddock after happily giving over their day’s work, my father would join his five sons in the vast expanses of the open front yard bordering Cape Otway Road.

This was the single memory of my father sharing cricket with his youngest son.

As a rule, my summer Saturdays were spent at the cricket, but the unfaltering demands of the cows kept my father at home.

Those summer evenings were special.

My second-oldest and now late brother Des, would always be in charge of proceedings. Des was good at this stuff.

He had to be Australia and always Ian Redpath when it was his turn to bat on the wicket he had meticulously prepared with the 32-inch Victa and a makeshift roller from mum’s vegetable garden. His four siblings were all well aware that his self-appointed role as groundsman was to avoid his turn dodging the lifting tails in the pit of the herringbone dairy. Des was a smart cookie!

My father had only two stipulations. Firstly, he had to be on the Australian team and secondly, was always the enigmatic Keith Miller. No one dared to argue.

Being the youngest, the dubious game regulations left me with little bargaining power. I was on the Poms’ team and reluctantly assumed the role of one G.Boycott.

I quickly loathed the name Boycott and resented every run he made against Australia. Sadly, there were plenty of them!

Boycott also provided me with the single biggest highlight of watching Ashes cricket live at the MCG.

World Series Cricket was alive and well when the Poms arrived in Australia for the 1978–79 Ashes series. Redders had retired from the traditional cricket scene, but was lured back to the Packer circus and therefore not part of the action on this amazing day.

The Bob Simpson role of fill-in skipper had ended in the West Indies earlier that year, and the young, inexperienced Aussies were placed under the control of a very talented, but wet-behind-the-ears Graham Yallop.

Times were different then.

The Boxing Day start was still a marketing embryo, and this was the final year bowlers were asked to produce eight deliveries to complete an over. The MCG Test was the third of a six-Test series.

With Christmas lunch a distant memory, Yallop went to the toss on the morning of December 29th, already two-nil down. When Mike Brearley called incorrectly, the inexperienced pair of Graeme Wood and Rick Darling started a gutsy Aussie fight back.

I joined some Modewarre teammates on the long trek to the ‘G’ for Day 2.

We were full of optimism as Wood, who had laboured his way to an unbeaten 100 the night before, resumed in partnership with a relatively unknown NSW debutant. Little did we know how much joy A.R. Border would provide us over the next 16 years. Border edged Mike Hendrick to third man for a boundary in the first over, taking the score to 4-247, and the crowd went berserk. Sadly, the excitement was short-lived, as another defensive prod escorted the ball to Brearley at first slip.

We sat in depressed amazement as the next five wickets fell for 11. Blind optimism was realised again.

We thought the day was done. Enter Boycott.

The series also saw the introduction of ex-Northcote and now South Australian tearaway fast bowler Rodney Hogg to Test cricket.

Hogg already had 17 test wickets in two outings, but even that reason for optimism was lost on us. Despite our sombre mood, the modest MCG crowd of 48,000 was making some noise as the adopted Croweater started his assault on Boycott, the doyen of English cricket.

With only a single run to his name, Hogg squeezed one between bat and pad, and the noise was extraordinary.

I had been in attendance at three full houses at the ‘G’ for VFL grand finals, but the noise was nothing like I had previously experienced. Hogg doubled up with a positive LBW appeal against Brearley, and England went to lunch at 2–3.

My faith in the game, and my team was restored.

The English limped to stumps at 8-107. We sat through six hours of cricket that yielded 14-122 and were on the edge of our seats all day. Rolled gold Ashes Test cricket.

Although not yet invented, Hogg completed a ‘Michelle’ the following morning, his fourth in five innings on the biggest stage. Cometh the hour, cometh the man.

The Aussies carried on to complete an unlikely victory that put life back into the seemingly one-sided series. The true opinions of World Series Cricket were still whispered behind hand-covered mouths by many in those days, but this mob wore the Baggy Green, and there is nothing quite like the Ashes.

Ian Redpath epitomised the history of Ashes cricket and he will live on in a game that now officially recognises him as a legend. To be part of his story on this special day at the Geelong CC will be remembered as a highlight of my own cricket journey. It is also the start of what I hope is a long association with the Almanac.

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