Almanac Cricket (Umpires): Mel Johnson – standing behind

 

 

In gambling, you always win the first time, and you say how long has this been going on? I had one young kid at that stage and the other one is on the way. Had a mortgage, the usual things. The missus said you can’t keep doing this. Don’t you like cricket? Why don’t you have a go at umpiring? And that appealed to me so I said I’ll have a go at that.

Mel Johnson – January 2025

 

Tall and thin, Mel Johnson is 82. His eyes are serious but his expression is of a man ready to smile. Born in Queensland, he loved playing cricket until a debilitating back injury forced him to quit. A teacher, he went bush for a couple of years then went to Canberra. Upon his return to Brisbane, his wife Jeanette changed the course of his life. Mel umpired 21 Test matches, 49 ODIs and 41 first class games in the seventies and eighties. In a gravelly, quiet voice, Mel detailed his career in cricket, from captaining the Queensland Primary School team to controversial moments on and off the field that stunned a nation…

 

 

The beginning…

Mel was twelve when he was appointed captain of the Queensland Primary School team. Travelling by train to Newcastle, they played a series of games then took the train to Sydney. Grey skies greeted them, and Sydney’s unfortunate history of rain during important cricket matches ensured the turf wickets weren’t fit for play. At Moore Park, outside the Sydney Cricket Ground, they played on cement pitches.

 

 

‘We won it too,’ Mel said of the primary school competition. ‘First time ever, which was a big deal at the time.’

A teammate later become the face of Australia’s ground-breaking current affairs program, This Day Tonight and as a foreign correspondent on 60 Minutes.

‘George Negus was the wicketkeeper,’ Mel said. ‘He eventually played for Wests. He was good. He was one of those blokes who was quiet but a character.’

 

 

 

Given Mel had captained the primary school team, his father approached State High and asked if they would accept his boy. Mel played a few matches for the school and in 1957, he joined Easts Cricket Club.

‘I would have been thirteen and I played Third Grade,’ Mel said. ‘I gradually worked my way through. I was 18 when they put me in the First Grade side. But I thought I was too young and didn’t have the ability.’

Mel opened the batting, kept wickets and could also bowl off-spin. In his First Grade debut against Wests at Langlands Park, he wondered how long he would last. Wests had two bowlers who played for Queensland in the Sheffield Shield. Mel recalls the ball swinging madly.

‘I saw the ball coming down and thought I’ll hit that through the covers,’ he said. ‘And it bowled me.’

Mel loved playing First Grade cricket, with games played from 1-6pm on Saturdays over two weekends. He described it as good cricket, but the game has its way of exposing a player’s limitations.

‘When I look back, I probably wasn’t really a good First Grade player,’ he admitted. ‘I think I was a good Second Grade player, but couldn’t quite make that step. They were too quick, too accurate for me.’

 

 

In 1960, Queensland’s Education Department was grappling with a shortage of teachers. To boost the ranks, they reduced the teaching diploma from two years to one. Mel did a year at teachers college, and ended up at Camp Hill State School. Given his background in sport, he coached cricket and rugby league.

After a short stint at Camp Hill, he embarked on his country service, spending time at one-teacher schools in Cedar Grove, Maroon and Camilla. Mel realised he was being sent to teach at schools that were about to be closed. The locals were unimpressed, as it meant they had to get up earlier to get their kids to a bigger school or to a bus stop.

‘They wanted to kill you,’ Mel said of the locals.

In 1966, he was sent to Maxwelton State School. About 1600 kilometres northwest of Brisbane, Maxwelton is a small town between Hughenden and Mount Isa. The Education Department provided accommodation, and when Mel walked in, he felt like walking out. Built for railway fettlers on short stay maintenance trips, the square, squat building had a dirt floor and corrugated iron roof and walls. The beds were camp stretchers. Due to be married in August, Mel knew he couldn’t bring his bride to Maxwelton.

He had 38 registered kids and, on a good day, would get six kids to class. After a few weeks, he called the Department’s Longreach office.

‘Find yourself another teacher,’ Mel told the regional director. ‘I can’t bring my wife out here. I wouldn’t bring a dog out here to live. I’ll be gone by 1 March.’

The departure date left the regional director unimpressed. ‘You wait until I get there,’ he said.

Mel didn’t, passing him on the road into Hughenden. When he returned to Brisbane, he took a contract at Nudgee College from March to November. In August, he married Jeanette and by December he was unemployed.

The newly-weds moved to Canberra, where Mel took a job at Canberra Grammar School as a physical education teacher. He gravitated to the local cricket club. ‘They picked me in the First grade side,’ Mel said. ‘I got a few runs, took a few wickets.’ His experience and teaching background piqued the interest of an official from the Queanbeyan Leagues Club. Mel was offered a coaching contract for three years and was given $3000 upfront.

‘That was an enormous amount of money,’ Mel said. ‘This was the end of 1966.’

The money almost paid for a house in Queanbeyan. Mel enjoyed teaching in Canberra and his coaching gig, but couldn’t wait to get out of the nation’s capital. He felt the city was divided by class, those in the public service and those on the outer.

‘The people were just shit,’ Mel said. ‘Everything was cold, including the people. Unless you were in the public service, you didn’t rate.’

At the end of 1969, a mate told Mel about a job at Churchie in Brisbane, and asked if he wanted it. When his application was successful, Mel sold the Queanbeyan house and drove back to Brisbane. He and Jeanette purchased a house on Brisbane’s southside. Mel worked at Churchie from 1970 till 1985.

 

 

 

The injury and rebirth in cricket…

After returning to Brisbane, Mel returned to cricket, and played the first weekend of the opening round of matches. On a Friday morning, while bending over to pick up a packet of smokes, his cricket career ended immediately.

Grimacing, Mel pointed to the spot inside the house. ‘It happened right there. The end result was I didn’t feel anything from the waist down.’

Taken to hospital, he was examined by a doctor. ‘I don’t want you to move,’ the doc cautioned. ‘If you move, you may never walk again.’

Mel heeded those words. ‘I’m not even blinking.’

The diagnosis wasn’t as dire as the initial prognosis. Three cushioning sacks, or intervertebral discs had burst between Mel’s last three discs in his lower back. Instantly, his spine became bone on bone. For months, he endured exercises to build up his back muscles to hold the discs and scar tissue together.

Excruciating is the only way to describe the pain of ruptured discs. It’s like having a knife in your back. Mel has had to manage the pain ever since. He could never fully get comfortable. Standing or sitting for a long time, and rolling over in bed caused pain.

Unable to play cricket, a couple of mates invited Mel to the local pub. ‘They used to go to the Glen Hotel,’ he said. ‘Get on the grog and have a bet. So I did the same.’

Winning his first bet ensured months of Saturdays in the pub. He won a few bets and lost a few. With one daughter at his feet and Jeanette carrying another, she asked him to do something productive on the weekend.

‘Don’t you like cricket?’ Jeanette asked. ‘Why don’t you have a go at umpiring?’

After responding to an ad in the newspaper, Mel studied the rules of cricket and went to Bottomley Park for his entrance examination. He walked into an old house that had been converted into change rooms. He sat at one end of an old, long school table. Former umpire Graham Jones sat at the other end. As Mel worried about failing the examination, Jones smirked. ‘Are you ready to go?’

Mel nodded. ‘Hit me with it.’

‘What kind of beer do you drink?’

‘XXXX.’

‘You’re in,’ Jones said.

Mel never actually sat the umpire’s entrance exam. At the time, there were nineteen umpires spreading themselves around Brisbane. Mel became the twentieth. He had a good understanding of the rules through grade cricket, and knew how the players could try to bluff the umpires. But he wasn’t prepared for the nuance of cricket. His debut game as umpire saw him frowning at the appointment card. Mel had been selected to umpire a Third Grade game featuring his former team.

As the solitary umpire, the batting team provided the square leg umpire, and a player stood in his whites with a broom to indicate his officialdom. When Mel batted in First Grade, he took guard on middle. The opener completely befuddled him when he put his bat down and asked for two legs.

‘I had no idea what he was talking about,’ Mel admitted. ‘I’m the umpire. I had to get him to explain what two legs was.’

There were other lessons that first day. The Fehlberg Park oval had a slight rise on one side, and the boundary line had been etched in diesel on the slope. A batsman slammed the ball toward the boundary and, thinking the ball would cross the line, Mel signalled four. The batsmen stopped running and were mid-pitch when the ball was thrown to the keeper. Dutifully, the keeper whipped off the bails and appealed for a run out. Mel indicated it was four, and the captain of the fielding team said it never reached the boundary.

‘I’ll cancel the four,’ Mel said.

‘Where does that leave me?’ the batsman asked.

‘You only get three,’ Mel replied.

‘Am I out?’

‘No,’ Mel said.

After the game, the captains said Mel had no option but to cancel the four and reject the run out, yet he remained aggrieved. ‘It was very poor umpiring,’ he said. ‘I never made that mistake again.’

Despite the mistakes, he loved his umpiring debut.

As summer rolled on, he wasn’t copping much dissent, and he observed the struggle of other umpires without grade cricket experience.

‘They didn’t understand the innuendo of the game,’ Mel said. ‘They lost all respect.’

As a player, Mel had appealed when he knew it wasn’t out. As an umpire, he ignored optimistic appeals and the enraged glares of the bowler denied a wicket or the batsman who was given out. ‘I’ve heard it all before,’ Mel would say. ‘So go away.’

He allowed bowlers to vent their frustration, understanding that swearing wasn’t personal and was usually a self-directed lament at their ability. As he progressed to First Grade, he was partnered, at various times, with umpires who had stood in Sheffield Shield games. Mel recalls being surprised at some of their decisions.

‘They were making mistake after mistake,’ he said. ‘I’d be at square leg and I’d hear the nick and they’re saying not out. With runouts, the bloke would be out by a mile and they’re saying not out.’

Observing the mistakes gave Mel confidence in his ability and increased his ambition. He wasn’t making the same mistakes as the Shield umpires, and believed he was a better umpire.

‘In the end, they started to try and sell me down the drain,’ Mel said.

Square leg umpires use signals to assist the umpire at the bowler’s end. If the ball went down the leg side and the batsman hit it, Mel would touch his left hand. If the batsman didn’t hit it, he would touch his side. If he wasn’t sure, he would hold his hands apart.

‘These blokes were touching their hand as though he’d hit it when he hadn’t,’ Mel said. ‘I’d ignore them.’

After a game, one Shield umpire raised his eyebrows. ‘Don’t you want me to help?’

‘As long as the help is accurate it’s fine,’ Mel replied.

Four months after his Third Grade umpiring debut, Mel received a promotion to First Grade and was never dropped back. He described the contrast between Third Grade and First Grade as a difference in consistency. Back then, eight ball overs were still in use. In First Grade, a bowler could bowl six accurate balls, whereas in Third Grade they’d bowl two. In First Grade, the bat was always straighter, which meant there were more edges.

‘That kept you on your toes,’ Mel said. ‘The wicketkeepers, they’re all cheats. They want everything to go their way.’

After eight years of umpiring in First Grade, Mel thought he was ready for Shield cricket. ‘I’d seen the others,’ he said. ‘Why aren’t they picking me?’

In 1978, he was selected to officiate in a match between Queensland and Western Australia. Western Australia had a strong team featuring Dennis Lillee, Mick Malone, Rod Marsh and Dennis Baker, who Mel affectionately described as absolutely nuts, straight out of white line fever.

Queensland selector Ernie Toovey had played 37 first-class games. Toovey welcomed Mel to the dressing room. ‘What you’ve always gotta remember,’ he said. ‘If they’ve got yellow caps, give them out.’

‘Ernie, if that’s the way you want me to umpire I won’t be doing it,’ Mel said.

Mel recalled meeting Lillee for the first time on the field, and seeing his fast-bowler temperament up close. Trevor Hohns was batting and couldn’t hook against the short ball. Lillee was bowling around his ears. In frustration, Lillee marched down the wicket to give Hohns batting tips. ‘I’ll put you in a barbed wire cage so you can’t back away to square-leg,’ Lillee said.

Mel called out to Lillee.

‘What do you want?’ Lillee asked.

‘Stop,’ Mel said.

‘I’m not finished with this bloke yet,’ Lillee snapped. ‘I’ll see you in a minute.’

When Lillee walked up the pitch, he asked Mel what he wanted.

‘Nothing really,’ Mel said. ‘I’ve learned a very good lesson. I shouldn’t butt in too quickly.’

Lillee gave him a smile. ‘Bloody oath.’

That exchange started a lifelong friendship.

During a domestic one-day final between Queensland and Western Australia, the pitch was slightly rain-affected, but both sides agreed to play. Lillee came in to bowl the opening ball. Thinking Lillee would be a mile over the crease, Mel called no-ball before his foot had fully landed.

After the delivery, Mel looked at the popping crease, seeing Lillee’s sprig marks in the damp turf behind the line. Lillee turned and looked at the crease. ‘What the fuck’s going on here, Mel?’

‘Sorry Dennis,’ Mel said. ‘We’ve just been paid. I was thinking about the $21 we got for the day.’

‘You only got $21 for this?’ Lillee asked.

Mel nodded.

‘That’s fucking ridiculous,’ Lillee said. ‘I’ll bloody fix that.’

Mel smirked, thinking Lillee had forgotten about the no-ball. A couple of overs later, as Lillee took his cap, he asked Mel about the no-ball.

‘You get one free one,’ Mel said.

Lillee used it when Greg Chappell came in, and Mel didn’t call him.

Mel had heard the rumours about Jeff Thomson’s pace. In a domestic one-day game, he would find out how quick Thommo was.

Thommo ambled in and let fly at Mark Ray, a left-hander who went on to become a journalist and photographer. The wicketkeeper, John Mclean was screaming for caught-behind. Mel wondered if the appeal was because he was new to first class level, and they were trying to test him out. He figured he must’ve blinked as Thommo let the ball go, and by the time he opened his eyes it had passed the bat.

‘I had absolutely no idea what happened,’ Mel admitted.

With a dozen eyes on him, Mel was about to call not out, when Ray chimed in. ‘I hit the fucking thing. Give me out.’

Mel raised the finger.

Relieved, Ray walked off. Mel realised he was scared by Thommo’s pace. The next ball Thommo bowled, Mel joked that he didn’t see it until the ball went from McLean to Greg Chappell to David Ogilvie to Phillip Carlson in the gully. To make the adjustment to Thommo’s speed, Mel took two steps back from the stumps, and was able to see the ball.

After the game, he found Ray in the changerooms and thanked him for walking. Ray pointed at his captain, Brian Davidson, who was from Rhodesia. Renowned as a tough man, Davidson had a no-nonsense attitude to cricket. ‘I never would’ve played another game if I walked,’ Ray said in hushed tones. ‘You had to give me out.’

In Queensland there was a panel of four Shield umpires who shared the five games each season. Mel recalls umpiring six or eight Shield games in three years before being selected for his first Test.

 

Mel’s first Test – the West Indies make history…

Mel was 37 when he umpired his first Test match between Australia and the West Indies in Adelaide. The match was notable for several reasons. The West Indies thrashed Australia by 408 runs, securing their first series victory in Australia. Their captain, Clive Lloyd, shunned a spinner during the series, unleashing a quartet of fast bowlers – Andy Roberts, Michael Holding, Joel Garner and Colin Croft. Ian Chappell played his last Test, scoring two and four, and muttering obscenities as he trudged off after being dismissed. Lloyd, Viv Richards and Alvin Kallicharran flayed the Australian bowling.

 

Mel before his first Test.

 

As he umpired, Mel thought the transition from Shield games to Test matches wasn’t too hard, but the West Indies tested his patience. Their bowling was deadly accurate, either short or in corridor of uncertainty. Australian opener, Bruce Laird, a short man, told Mel he couldn’t get a ball to hit. ‘They pitch it up, but you’re playing it off your throat,’ Laird said.

Mel recalls the Australian batsmen trying to wear the West Indies bowlers down, but with four fast bowlers and their long run-ups, they didn’t care about over rates.

‘They only bowled seventy overs a day,’ Mel said of the West Indies. ‘About eleven overs an hour. They bowled in three or four over spells. And they weren’t wearing them down.’

In Australia’s second innings, Croft went around the wicket to Greg Chappell. Croft stood 196cm tall and had an angular, ungainly action. From around the wicket, he strayed into the middle of the pitch. Nervously, Mel inspected the pitch, knowing Croft’s indiscretion would be noticed by television commentators. He knew Chappell wouldn’t tolerate it. As Croft turned to walk back to his mark, Mel took a step forward, expecting him to blow up.

‘Colin, you’re gonna have to get off the pitch,’ Mel said. ‘You’re damaging it.’

Without pausing, Croft nodded. ‘I’ll go back over the wicket.’

Taken aback, Mel smirked. ‘You big girl.’

Croft glared at Mel and went over the wicket. The scorebook shows Chappell was out, LBW to Croft.

After the second day, Mel had a chat to Lloyd about the over rate. Lloyd shook his bespectacled head. ‘We do not play overs, we play time,’ he said. ‘Would you prefer a three-day Test?’

Despite the chat about over rates, Mel walked away knowing it was pointless. ‘He wouldn’t budge on that,’ he said.

Given they were winning, over rates didn’t matter to Lloyd. That attitude forced cricket authorities to mandate ninety overs in a day, with fines and suspensions applicable for sides that didn’t reach the target.

The series win sent the West Indies on the path to world domination. They wouldn’t lose a Test series for fifteen years. Mel recalls the dark-eyed steely resolve of the West Indies, and admired their bowlers for their talent and class.

During the Test, the Australian and West Indies teams stayed at the same hotel. Mel would see the West Indies players in lounges away from the main bar. He socialised somewhat, as much as an umpire could.

‘Under Clive Lloyd they were terrific,’ Mel said.

Lloyd wanted his side to show their talent and bring in the crowd. ‘Just remember where you get your dollars from,’ Mel recalls Lloyd telling his team in the hotel after the victory.

 

 

In November 1980, Mel umpired his first Test in Brisbane between Australia and New Zealand. Lillee took six second innings wickets in a ten-wicket victory. In January, Mel umpired a Test between India and Australia. In February during the third Test in Melbourne, Mel was at square-leg when Rex Whitehead gave Indian opener and captain Sunil Gavaskar out LBW. Enraged, Gavaskar insisted he edged the ball into his pads, then tried taking Chetan Chauhan off the field in protest. Gavaskar gave Chauhan a push, and he reluctantly walked towards the race beside his captain.

There was only about two and a half thousand people at the Melbourne Cricket Ground,’ Mel said. ‘You can hear somebody fart. He reckoned he nicked it onto his pads. He didn’t nick it.’

As Gavaskar and Chauhan walked to the gate, Greg Chappell asked Mel what would happen next. ‘We’re supposed to go off and find out what they’re doing,’ Mel said. ‘Leave it for a little while.’

India’s team manager, Wing Commander Shahid Ali Khan Durrani, met the players at the gate and pointed at the middle. Chauhan turned and Dilip Vengsarkar went with him.

‘Gavaskar was never out,’ Mel said. ‘Even with a reasonably good crowd you can hear the edge from square-leg.’

During his career, Mel said players had selective hearing. It didn’t matter if it was Third Grade or a Test match, the bowler was adamant he heard an edge. The keeper and slips heard it, and the batsman didn’t. Mel adjudicated on LBW appeals where the ball was obviously edged into the pads. As the bowler would walk past, Mel would give them a questioning look.

‘Loss of credibility there, mate,’ Mel would say, and it would help prevent frivolous appeals.

Mel didn’t get every decision right, but he never worried afterwards. It was done and the game moved on. When he umpired, there was no decision referral system, but television replays scrutinised all decisions which increased the pressure on the umpires.

‘When I made a decision, at the time it was right,’ Mel said.

 

Lillee and Miandad…

In November 1981, Mel umpired the first Test of the summer between Australia and Pakistan in Perth. Pakistan had a solid team featuring Javed Miandad, Imran Khan, Sarfraz Nawaz and Iqbal Qasim. Australian selectors figured to frighten the Pakistan team, playing Lillee and Thompson with Terry Alderman in support. Despite having a long chat with Miandad during a game between Queensland and Pakistan, Mel figured he had two personalities.

‘Miandad was the archetypal villain,’ Mel said. ‘The most unlikeable person on a cricket field. He wasn’t too bad off.’

During the Test, Pakistan bowled Australia out for 180, then were skittled for 62. Already behind in the game, they spent 138 overs in the field as Australia declared at 8/424. As captain, Miandad defied the Australians in the second innings with a mix of solid defence and agitation. He teased the fielders by walking the last few paces of a run, putting his bat down just in time in an attempt to irritate and look for overthrows.

‘The Australians decided to try and hit him,’ Mel said. ‘They never threw the ball at the stumps. They threw it at him, particularly around the backs of the legs. He realised what they were doing.’

Mel was at square league when Lillee was hit for two. Vision of the incident shows Lillee walk into Miandad’s path. Miandad objected. Mel says he saw Miandad holding the bat by the handle and blade.

‘He rubbed it up Lillee’s back,’ Mel said. Lillee followed Miandad, chirping at him. Miandad fronted up to him. Tony Crafter intervened, standing between them. Lillee tried to go around Crafter, then kicked Miandad on the pad. Miandad held his bat over his shoulder, threatening to hit Lillee, who swayed backwards.

‘All sorts of rubbish went on,’ Mel said. ‘Greg Chappell was at first slip. He made a detour to square leg.’

‘What are you going to do?’ Chappell asked.

‘Nothing,’ Mel said. ‘We’ll let them fight and rub them out.’

Chappell ran to Lillee and settled him down. Crafter restored order. The match went on, with Australia winning by 286 runs. After the Test, Mel and Crafter were put on a plane bound for Melbourne as Smith and Jones to confuse journalists. A cab took them from the airport to the Australian Cricket Board’s office. Officials had set up a television and claimed to have videos of the incident recorded by the ABC and Channel 9. Lillee was there, and told the hearing that Miandad hit him in the back with his bat. Mel corroborated Lillee’s version of events. An official inserted a tape and pressed play. The television remained blank, and the official couldn’t get it to work.

I think the whole thing was just bizarre and stupid.’ Mel said of the incident and hearing. ‘They had no video evidence whatsoever.’

Relying on photos of the incident, Lillee was suspended for two ODIs for kicking Miandad. Mel left the hearing around nine, wondering if Pakistan’s officials were going to suspend Miandad.

Mel and Crafter took a cab to the hotel. Neither of them had eaten and, at that time, they couldn’t get dinner. They walked into reception where a smug Miandad waited. ‘He got suspended for to two ODIs,’ Miandad chirped.

‘Both of them should have got at least two Tests,’ Mel said. ‘Under the international rules, Australia couldn’t hear or charge Miandad. Pakistan had to do that. They did nothing. They let him play, and let him laugh.’

In 1982, Mel umpired two Tests featuring Australia and the West Indies. The series was memorable for Australia’s famous victory at the MCG where Kim Hughes scored one of the best Test hundreds and the crowd chanted Lillee’s name for half an hour after stumps. After a rain-affected draw in Sydney, the West Indies levelled the series with victory in Adelaide.

During the series, Mel said many players used Katovit tablets before they went into bat. The key ingredient in Katovit was Prolintane, a central nervous system stimulant. The pills were available at any chemist. The manufacturer claimed it provided energy, increased alertness and concentration. Cricketers told Mel it intensified their vision, so they could concentrate better on the ball. Mel recalls a prominent Australian batsman giving him a tablet when he went out to bat.

‘If I’m still here at 2pm, can you give me this tablet?’ the player asked.

Mel put the pill in his pocket with a shrug. ‘When you saw their eyes, you knew,’ he said. ‘It was prevalent.’

 

 

Terry Alderman’s shoulder…

In November 1982, Mel stood in his ninth Test match in Perth. The first Test between Australia and England was drawn, but it is remembered for a crowd invasion. Chappell won the toss and put England in, a bad decision. England were nine down with Bob Taylor and Bob Willis batting in front of a rowdy crowd. At the non-strikers end, Willis watched the crowd and listened to the chants.

‘Mel, there’s going to be trouble here,’ Willis said. ‘They’re singing their football songs. The violent football songs. More than likely they’ll come on when the score is 411.’

At the end of Alderman’s over, Mel was walking back to square leg. Alderman was following him to fine-leg when the crowd invaded the field.

‘I heard this hell of a bloody thump,’ Mel said. ‘Flesh on flesh. Next thing I see is Alderman chasing this bloke. He ducks just as Alderman dives over and breaks his shoulder.’

Allan Border and Lillee wrestled 18-year-old Gary Donnison, giving him a couple of thumps as retribution while Alderman writhed in agony on the ground. Border held Donnison until police arrested him. Chappell told Mel and Tony Crafter that the Australians were going off.  ‘We’re not coming back,’ Chappell said.

As the umpires left the field, police and the crowd were running everywhere. In the umpire’s room, Mel and Crafter looked out on the mayhem. The police superintendent, clad in uniform, cap and shoulder stars opened the door.

‘I want you to take the players back out immediately,’ he said ‘It’s the only way we’re going to get this fixed up. More of their gang is down the road and they’re coming in. The police are going to be outnumbered considerably. I want you to get them out there playing.’

The umpires went to the Australian change room and opened the door. The room was empty. Chappell poked his head around the shower doorway where the players had gathered. ‘What’s the trouble Mel?’

‘The police superintendent said we’ve got to start play immediately,’ Mel said.

‘I’m not going out there until the ground is cleared,’ Chappell said.

‘That’s not what we were told to do,’ Mel said. ‘We were told to get you out there because there’s other people coming.’

‘I’m not happy with that.’ Chappell shook his head.

‘Greg, we’re going to walk out in less than five minutes.’ Mel pointed at the field. ‘I would like it if you followed us.’

‘Can they clear the ground in that time?’ Chappell asked.

‘I don’t know.’

The umpires went to England’s change room and ordered the batsmen onto the field.

As they were walking to the steps that led to the ground, Chappell, knowing a refusal to play could result in forfeiture, put his head through the door. ‘We’ll follow you, Mel.’

Police cleared the ground, and the match eventually petered out to a draw. Alderman missed 14 months with his dislocated shoulder. Donnison was fined $500 for assault and given 100 hours of community service.

The incident was a blight on a memorable summer of cricket. Mel umpired four Tests, and found England’s old guard, David Gower, Ian Botham and Bob Willis were good company. Renowned cricketers, they wanted to entertain the fans. Mel also discovered Gower’s dry wit and carry-on attitude after the first over of the Fifth Test in Sydney.

Kepler Wessels and John Dyson opened the batting. Mel can’t recall if Wessels or Dyson called for a suicide single. Willis retrieved the ball in his follow-through and threw down the stumps. Mel rejected England’s appeal for a run out. Willis stood, hands on hips, his afro jingling on the breeze. Small televisions around the ground broadcast the replay, and Mel heard the groans. At the end of the over, Gower came out of the slips and raised his eyebrows.

‘Mel, it’s too early in the morning to be making decisions like that,’ Gower said.

‘You’re right,’ Mel replied.

At the end of the day, Mel knew his decision was wrong, and figured Dyson might’ve been about six inches out. When he saw the replay, he realised it was too early in the day to be making decisions like that. Dyson was about a foot short of his ground.

In the following weeks, Mel received letters and cards from England. One letter took up ten pages, with a couple of words on each page. I am writing this in big print because you can’t see, the sender wrote. Another had a pile of cigarette ash inside. The caption – You won the Ashes, you might as well keep them.

 

No more WACA Tests…

It was a joke among the umpires and ACB officials. Every time Mel stood in a Test at the WACA there was an incident, so he wasn’t going back there. But back there he went to Perth in November 1983, where Australia thrashed Pakistan in the first of five Tests. The Second Test in Brisbane was drawn. Mel umpired the Fifth Test in Sydney, where Australia won by ten wickets. The match became famous for the retirements of Lillee, Chappell and Marsh.

Mel would miss the theatre and mateship Lillee provided.

In Sydney, the crowd was a bit flat. After a delivery, Lillee was returning to his mark and gave Mel a wink as he went past. ‘Mel, the crowd’s a bit quiet,’ Lillee said. ‘Walk back with me.’

Wondering why, Mel walked side-by-side with Lillee as the crowd went ‘oohh’. On television, the commentators thought Mel was having stern words with Lillee. As the crowd noise built up, Lillee marched to his mark and Mel returned to his spot behind the stumps. The crowd was enervated as Lillee charged in and the commentators were expecting a chastened bowler to send down a bouncer.

‘He was telling me about a Chinese restaurant that was quite good,’ Mel said. ‘He told me where to find it.’

Mel recalls Lillee going down the wicket to stare at batsmen. He said Lillee used to mouth his words clearly, the next one is in the forehead, so those on television could lip-read his boasts.

‘I knew it was all bullshit,’ Mel said of Lillee. ‘He’d walk back past me and give me a wink. It was good fun.’

After the Test series, Mel was at the bar when Lillee and Imran Khan walked in. Lillee bought a jug of rum and coke. Khan was supposedly a non-drinker, but helped empty the jug and bought another.

 

Retirement…

The retirements of Lillee, Chappell and Marsh left a void that took Australia years to fill. In 1984, Mel umpired the Second Test between Australia and the West Indies in Brisbane. He recalls Tony Crafter pointing out the heavies from the ACB around the dressing room. ‘They’re not usually here,’ Crafter said.

After the West Indies won by eight wickets, Mel was in the umpires room. From his vantage point, he saw Kim Hughes walk out from the change room carrying a piece of paper. The heavies, as Crafter labelled them, were in tow. At the press conference, Hughes tearfully resigned as Australia’s captain, having won just four of his 28 Tests in charge. The resignation sent shockwaves through Australia’s cricket community, and confirmed Clive Lloyd’s brutal mantra – kill the captain and the rest will follow. At the time, Mel felt sorry for Hughes and figured he was dealing with the remnants of World Series Cricket. ‘When I saw him crying, I thought he was pushed to do it,’ Mel said. ‘He didn’t deserve that.’

Mel umpired Tests in Adelaide and Sydney where Australia’s new captain, Allan Border, led his team to an unlikely victory.

Over the next three years, Mel umpired three more Tests, one in Sydney and two in Brisbane. He was at the Gabba in 1986 when Botham hit his last Test century and Australia was routed by eight wickets. In December 1987, he stood in his last Test at the Gabba, where Australia defeated New Zealand by nine wickets.

On 17 January 1988, Mel stood in his last ODI, a rain-affected match at the Gabba between Australia and New Zealand. When David Boon was on 48, he was hit on the pads by Martin Snedden. Mel immediately raised the finger. Boon lost it, shouting obscenities as he walked off and spitting his gum. Mel stepped away with a bemused look on his face – he’d heard it all before. Replays show Boon was plumb LBW and had to be given out.

A few days later, Mel was in Tasmania for a domestic one-day game. Constitution Dock was filled with sailing boats and warships and he went for a look, meeting Olivia Newton John. He got to his room about 6pm. From the windows, he looked out over Constitution Dock and sighed.

I don’t want to be here, he thought. I don’t want to do this game tomorrow.

From Hobart, he was scheduled to go to Adelaide, Sydney then Brisbane to officiate domestic one-day games.

‘I rang my wife and said Sunday will be my last game,’ Mel said. ‘I don’t want to do this anymore.’

Jeanette didn’t believe him. Mel assured her he was bored with the travel, bored with hotel rooms and he was finished.

‘I went out with no regrets,’ Mel said. ‘I retired on my terms. Not being dropped and thrown out. Ian Chappell always said you always know when you want to retire. I had that feeling.’

Mel was paid $2,200 for his last Test. After tax, he took home around $1,800. He recalls being paid $24 for Shield games, and $21 for a domestic one-day games. The money, for doing something he loved, complimented his wage as a teacher at Churchie. One year, he had enough money to buy his daughters television sets for their bedrooms.

He never had to beg Churchie’s principal for days off to umpire. The principal must’ve loved cricket, because he gave Mel an extra day off before and after a Test or Shield game without a pay reduction.

After retiring, Mel approached Queensland Cricket’s chief executive Graham Dixon and offered his experience. Dixon gave him a role to assess and assist the next generation of first class umpires.

‘After my episode where I didn’t know what two legs were, I vowed and declared that no umpire would go out without knowing the basics,’ Mel said.

Queensland Cricket sent Mel to regional Queensland where he would observe the umpires. After the game, he invited the umpires, players and officials to a meeting on Saturday night. Giving a tutorial and guidance, he encouraged retired players to expand the umpiring ranks. He educated umpires who knew the laws but couldn’t apply them during a game. Officials from District cricket all over Queensland invited Mel to appraise their umpires.

More than ten years he toured Queensland, offering advice, encouragement and recruiting new umpires. Mel used different techniques to judge the umpires. Watching from side-on, he could see if a ball was too high for a successful LBW appeal. He observed body language to judge decisions.

‘When the umpire says not out, if the bowler turns on his heel and walks back, you know it’s been a good decision,’ Mel said. ‘If the bowler stands there unhappy, then you know maybe it’s not a good decision.’

In every team, regardless of the grade, there’s always a fair-minded veteran who knows cricket. Mel would find that person after a day’s play and ask how the umpire went. The veteran, removed from the field of battle, would tell the truth – it was probably going over the top, or hard to see why he wasn’t out.

‘The most crucial question,’ Mel said, was about confidence. ‘Does the umpire give you confidence?’

It was a yes or no answer. Mel listened. He spent years nurturing umpires throughout Queensland, and in 2007, received an Order of Australia Medal for his contribution to cricket.

 

Looking back…

 

 

 

Mel demurred when I asked if he was proud of his career. He let a small smirk free and shifted on the seat. ‘Thankful that I was given the opportunity,’ he said. ‘Thankful that I had the ability to do that and maintain it.’

While he was a Test umpire, he didn’t shun the lower grades. He would get home on a Tuesday or Thursday after a Test or shield game and tell the selectors he was available for grade cricket. It didn’t matter if he was slotted into Third Grade or First Grade.

‘I always said I started in Third Grade,’ Mel said. ‘I owed them that rather than saying I’m not doing it, I’m a Test umpire.’

He passed on his experience to umpires and players in grade cricket. Games were still hard-fought, but as he stood behind grade cricketers, he found it fulfilling. He enjoyed the camaraderie afterwards, and the players and umpires wanted to talk about international cricketers.

In the eighties, an academic at Sydney University used data, percentages, television replays and other formulas to judge the umpires. Mel recalls his first name was Lloyd, and he would post handwritten notes to the umpires at the end of a Test series.

‘Five years in a row I was the top rating umpire according to him,’ Mel said with a shrug.

After the interview, we went inside. Jeanette and their daughter, Toni, rifled through photo albums, showing me pictures of Mel as a young man, as a teacher and Test umpire. Mel seemed bemused by the fuss as we stared at the photos. Absently, he gazed at a photo taken before his Test debut.

‘I’m happy with what I’ve done,’ Mel said…

 

 

 

 

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