KP – The Autobiography. Sphere.

They say he’s polarising, treacherous, a Maverick; that he wears his heart on his sleeve. That he’s a complex character. It’s easier to explain Kevin Pietersen once we understand that, overseeing this unruly mob of contradictions is the CEO: an immutable, controlling ego. The details the CEO has chosen for KP The Autobiography are those that will make Pietersen look comparatively good in any circumstance, or at least justify his role in the numerous scandals he’s generated using implements other than his bat, like a mobile phone, or his tongue. The CEO is nothing if not predictable. This time, he employs a word-processor to generate new outrages.

Pietersen’s self-esteem remains hearty, despite some embarrassing potholes dotting the superhighway of his success. He’ll always entertain us, because he puts it all on display, allowing us to love the way he plays and to hate everything about him.

The book has more targets than a hillbilly fun park, lined up like green bottles on a plank. Like the entire English bowling attack, and Matt Prior. Or coaches Peter Moores and Andy Flower, his disdain for whom Pietersen emphasises by including photos of himself looking decidedly unimpressed in their presence.

Pietersen is so black-and-white, he’s all colour. The book has already caused rumblings in English cricket circles, but it’s had the desired Pietersen Effect, the sort that sells books: it’s drawn opinions from those who might not otherwise have given one, like Graham Gooch and Alastair Cook. While most of the rumblings remain subterranean, they are rumblings nonetheless, and a few will yet be felt on the surface.

That makes any prospective reader feel like an Australian cricket fan watching a Pietesen century: you’d rather not see it, but you know you should, because they’ll be talking about it.

Wisden on the Great War – The Lives of Cricket’s Fallen 1914-1918. John Wisden and co.

When Wisden gives its stamp to a subject, it’s official. This time the grand old dame of cricket folklore and fact honours those cricketers lost in the Great War of 1914-18. It’s a reference work, for readers with a specific interest, but cricket still attracts a lot of those. The book is a little history and a lot of obituary. It also contains an honour roll of cricketers – those who survived and those who didn’t – who were decorated for gallantry.

Wisden on the Great War contains 1,800 tributes, and those of you who are tempted to closer inspection will discover intriguing historical details. At first look, I found two deceased young men who were the models for literary characters made famous by John Buchan and J.M.Barrie.

Part of the reason for its publication is timeliness – it comes a century after the start of that terrible conflict – and correction, for the sake of the accuracy Wisden prides itself on, and for the sake of the descendants of the dead. In the initial chaos of the war, Wisden, always looking out for cricket’s confraternity, misreported a few deaths and omitted others. There are some fascinating entries for men like the poet, Rupert Brooke, who was also a fine schoolboy bowler, and Test player Colin Blythe.

The book is not for everybody. It only sets out to be an exhaustive record, and it achieves it.

Adam Gilchrist. The Man. The Cricketer. The legend. By Adam Gilchrist. Affirm Press.

This is the all-new, fully-illustrated autobiography. A beautifully-produced book. Gilly injects plenty of his endearing personality into it and the book is a wonderful blend of real Australiana and the personal story of one of Australia’s greatest-ever. Despite Gilly’s breezy and accessible nature, the book is surprisingly cliché-free (except, perhaps, the title) and full of insight into a great era of Australian cricket. It’s a fascinating page-turner that keeps giving and will delight those who were lucky enough to see him play, and inspire the kids.

Published in inside Cricket, November, 2014

 

The Australian Cricket Digest 2014-15, 3^rd edition, Ed. Lawrie Colliver.

For the cricket lover, this is a smorgasbord. Every single first-class and List A stat, men and women, for season 2013-14 is provided. With a great sense of balance, Lawrie Colliver includes among the glut of figures some colourful descriptions of every day of the Ashes series and the South African set, profiles, obits, history and a schedule of the 2014-15 season that is much more accessible than some of the website offerings. And much more. This handy and entertaining reference book achieves exactly what it sets out to achieve.

The Miracle Match – Chappell, Lillee, Richards and the most electric moment in Australian cricket. By Ian Brayshaw. Hardie Grant Books.

Our only beef is that Rod Marsh isn’t included in the sub-head, as those of us who remember the game won’t forget his sly collusion with Lillee to pull off the dismissals of Greg Chappell and Viv Richards, and one of the most unlikely wins in history. It was only a semi-final of a long-forgotten domestic one-day series, but this amazing one-day match is burned into the memories of every one of the protagonists, and those who witnessed it. A 200-odd page book around a single one-day event is bound to be full of authorial digressions, some of them pure padding, some of which we’ve heard before, but the “miracle match” as a focal-point justifies their inclusion. A breezy, fascinating and nostalgic read.

10 for 10 – Hedley Verity and the Story of Cricket’s Greatest Bowling Feat. By Chris Waters. John Wisden.

Another book about a single feat, this time performed by one of England’s greats, a man, some say, who had Bradman’s number (mind you, that number often consisted of three figures!). The match in question was, like the one above, minor and might have been buried deep in some tome dedicated to obscure stats, but for Verity’s remarkable feat of taking 10 wickets for 10 runs for Yorkshire against Notts. But the match is merely an entry-point, a canvas for a touching portrait, and beautiful description, of a truly great bowler, cut short in battle in Sicily in 1943. This makes it a compelling read.

Allan Border – Cricket as I see it. By Allan Border. Allen and Unwin

This book is a melange, part autobiographical and part analysis of the state of cricket today. It’s rare for A.B. to share his inner thoughts. On TV, he’s understated and often defers to more assertive peers with a humility he never accorded bowlers. A.B. was never really a man of words, rather deeds, and though this reads a little like a collection of spontaneous, diarised thoughts, it wouldn’t be A.B if it was anything else. This accumulation of words and thoughts constitutes, in fact, a deed, done for the sake of the game he loves. As they came to mind, he wrote them down, it seems. He is direct, uncomplicated – everything we’d expect. But the book touches upon some important issues, makes very insightful points, and even discloses his true feelings about working in a bureaucracy and being a selector during a period that was both tumultuous and (for a selector) boring in its predictability – tasks we always suspected would be onerous to a man of Border’s disposition. It’s not a challenging read, but in his modest way he challenges accepted notions. It’s endearing, offers unique insights into a significant time in Australia’s cricketing history from one of its pivotal figures, and affords us the benefit of the author’s hard-earned wisdom.

Playing it my way – Sachin Tendulkar. Hachette Australia

This book is meant to be impressive, august, momentous. It’s lavishly presented, and of course, as thick as you’d expect for a tome chronicling 24 years of a career replete with magnificent achievement at the highest level. For this reason alone, Playing it my way, despite its sometimes lacklustre prose (his co-author is Boria Majumdar), is worth a read. Tendulkar was renowned, while he was active, as a man of dignity and wisdom, and though this book doesn’t spoil that legacy, a certain willingness to carry a complaint sours it just a little. If the unpleasant encounter with Greg Chappell actually occurred, its inclusion is justified. The snipe at Adam Gilchrist, however, was carefully worded to imply Gilly was not just a cheat, but a hypocrite. Tendulkar has since denied that this was his aim, but the words in question were chosen with intent. We understand the “controversy sells” approach, and we know Gilly once accused Sachin of changing his story at the “Monkeygate” hearing, but Tendulkar was always above petty vindictiveness. Considering the fact that his career presented many opportunities to witness corruption and hypocrisy first-hand (mention of match fixing is conspicuously absent), the details he chooses to elaborate are odd, at times. The episode in which his stand-in captain, Rahul Dravid, declared in Multan when Tendulkar was on 194 is a little window into the politics of the Indian dressing room. Tendulkar was volcanic, and it seems he still is, about a decision he saw as needless – and again, hypocritical (he points out a similar situation in Sydney a month earlier, when Dravid kept batting and India lost a chance for victory). In case we’re in any doubt as to who made the decision, he relates conversations with coach John Wright and regular captain, Sourav Ganguly, who denied any involvement.

This is a fascinating look at one of the very greatest of careers in cricket – indeed, in sport. His meticulous preparation for the much-hyped clash with Shane Warne in 1998 is a highlight, revealing of the man and his method. These insights tell us the comparisons with Bradman go well beyond, yet disclose everything about, the way he batted, and approached his cricket generally.

104 Cricket Legends – Merv Hughes. Allen and Unwin.

In his bangers-and-mash way, Merv gives us some insights into, and the odd opinion about, many of the people he played with and against. Most read like offerings from a cricket fan, rather than a cricketing colleague. His criterion for selection in his best 104 is the influence they had on his career, and he categorises his profiles under four distinct headings. Each little profile is simply told – sometimes a little too simply, as certain tales trail off, or end abruptly, after promising to disclose fascinating new information.

Some offer new perspectives on players like Paul Reiffel, Allan Border and even Rod McCurdy. Others introduce influential but largely unknown characters like Viddy Richards, Robert Steer and Steven Feltstead. He gives kudos where it’s deserved, regardless of fame. Merv has always been a mischievous character capable of surprising wisdom and sharp observation. He makes the point that though “taking the piss” out of his mates has been a stock-in-trade, there comes a time for serious contemplation of their effect on his life. This is it.

DVDs:

Australia VS South Africa Test Series 2014 – Aussie will to win.

IMG Entertainment, Viavision and Madman

This DVD is worth owning if you love your cricket for one compelling reason: the Test series held in South Africa in early 2014 was a modern-day minor classic. At 598 minutes duration, it might be a tad over-generous, but the highlights selected and the editing capture the pulsing drama of this series and its breathtaking denouement.

Mitchell Johnson – Bouncing Back.

…and any tale of that amazing summer, 2013-14, wouldn’t be complete without the story of Mitchell Johnson: what he did, how he did it and, most importantly, how it was one of the great fast-bowling comebacks. We knew he’d never done justice to his talent. But none of us suspected that a demon lay in wait. No longer erratic and injury-prone, he thrilled us with his elastic action and his Thommo-esque ability to ruin opposition aspirations, careers and lives. This is compelling stuff.

Published in Inside Cricket, December, 2014

 

Favourite Cricket Yarns. Ken Piesse. The Five Mile Press.  

A great little gift for the cricket lover, written by one of Australia’s premier cricket lovers, Ken Piesse. With a great sense of the “classic” catch, Ken has included hundreds of little cricket vignettes spanning decades, and it’s all done with a “Boy’s Own” feel that still captivates the kids and makes their parents misty with sentiment. The wibalin hardback is eye-catching, as are the old-style, idyllic oils and Paul Harvey cartoons.

An entertaining read and keepsake.

Bradman’s Invincibles. Roland Perry. Hachette Australia.

This updated version of the 2008 release is, as it states, “the inside story of the epic 1948 Ashes tour.” Perry is an indefatigable researcher known for his access to some of the great cricketers, and this book tells the absorbing story in an episodic manner. A detailed and informative read.

Rhino. By Ryan Harris. Hardie Grant

This is the expected fare. It was written during Harris’ injury-enforced hiatus in his career in 2014, and is a plainspoken account of his life and career. But hey! It’s Rhino! He charges in, he flings them down, and he cunningly saves nuance for crucial moments on the cricket field. For cricket fans, that’s what makes him a great bowler worth writing about.

Retro Cricket – From Bradman’s Invincibles to Clive Lloyd’s Calypso Kings. New Holland Publishers

A lush album of meticulously collected, rare and often unpublished photos from a golden era – the late 1940s to the late 1970s. The pictures speak for themselves. There are over 400 action shots, candid shots and portraits of the key personalities of the time. A 400-odd page feast for the eye, and a great browse, although we’re not sure the “retro” theme demands the relentless sepia treatment, even of modern photos. The photos are great, and the captions are informative and enlightening, bringing each pic to life for the reader, regardless of age. A great publication from an author already renowned for his work as a rugby league historian.

The Bradman Museum’s World of Cricket. Mike Coward. Allen and Unwin.

Another excellent photographic collection, this time from The Don’s own personal collection of 35-mm slides. It includes some striking shots from Bruce Postle, Vivian Jenkins and Phillip Brown, typed comments from the Don himself, and unifying commentary from Mike Coward. This book covers an even greater span, from Bradman’s 19^th century portraits to 2014. The text is a wonderful complement to the pictorial.

Published in Inside Cricket, January, 2015   

 

Whitewash to Whitewash – Australian Cricket’s Years of Struggle and Summer of Riches. Daniel Brettig. Viking.

Stories of Australia’s decline from 2006-07 to the present era were always over-dramatised. Boundary questions were asked prematurely and the new intolerance for normal cycles of success, failure and repair was all too evident. It left some of us wondering whether failure was being talked into existence.

A book focussing on the minutest details of that twilit time was, at first, an un-enthralling prospect. But Brettig’s book is a pleasant surprise. The book is almost social anthropology in its attention to detail and the factors deeply structuring key relationships that marked the period. Especially interesting is his take on the catalytic “homework scandal” and the thinking that really went behind it. One can only conclude that Mickey Arthur was hard-done-by, and that Lehmann’s instalment was exactly the right thing to do. Brettig handles such complexity with a deft hand.

Time to talk – Curtly Ambrose with Richard Sydenham. Aurum Press.

It’s fascinating to hear from Curtly Ambrose after all these years. The big, magnificent fast bowler, whose name is, fittingly, a portmanteau word for curt and surly, tells us a lot of things we expected all along: that he did it easily despite the fact that he didn’t even like cricket; that he’s aggressive and competitive; that he wanted to knock Steve Waugh right out during that famous incident in 1995. We also learn that humility was not the sort of attribute that made him, or his teams, great. As with many a Caribbean cricketer from that era, his experience encompassed some high times indeed. He relates that unique West Indian mixture of languid glibness, almost nonchalance, and its undercurrent of machismo-driven volatility, with a tone that matches.

His account of the Waugh episode, despite its gravity, is a hilarious example. To summarise his account: he’d whirled around to walk back to his mark after giving Waugh yet another prolonged death stare (apparently a prolonged death stare is not as provocative, disrespectful or threatening as a verbal sledge).

He was told afterwards that Waugh, obviously refusing to be intimidated, mouthed off, telling him to just bowl the effing ball, or something to that effect. Curtly was incensed Waugh could be so ill-mannered, and was prepared to end his career by rendering the Aussie unconscious. It would make sense to Viv Richards.

His forthrightness in relating the episode, despite its apparent contradictions, is the sort of approach that makes for a very entertaining book.

The Strangers Who Came Home – The first Australian Cricket Tour of England. John Lazenby. Bloomsbury, 2015.

Not all seminal events are lauded as such at the time. As they unfold, the protagonists have little sense of their deeds as extraordinary, yet we look back and are amazed. The 1878 Australian tour of England is one such event. It marked a turning-point in our national consciousness.

The Australian colonials barely considered themselves anything but English when they set foot in England in 1878. Yet they encountered hostility, cheating, superciliousness and ignorance in the “mother country.”  Then, in one extraordinary afternoon of cricket, in front of a crowd of catcallers, they destroyed an MCC team consisting of W.G. Grace and other luminaries of the sport. By the time the match had finished, they had a stronger sense of their Australianness. And so did Australia. It was on! A true rivalry had been conjured out of nothing, and paved the way for all international sport, not to mention Ashes cricket. The story is inherently fascinating and significant, and John Lazenby tells it in light, and at times, evocative, prose. Entertaining social history.

Wisden on Grace. An Anthology. Edited by Jonathan Rice. Bloomsbury

Bradman, Sobers, might be considered the greatest exponents of the game, but William Gilbert Grace was by far its most storied. Wisden was first published in 1864, the year that Grace, then 16, made his first-class debut. The book is typical fascinating Wisden fare, a compilation of match reports, essays, articles, opinion pieces penned by W.G. himself and obituaries.

An indispensable compendium for any lover of the game’s history.

Published in Inside Cricket, June, 2015        

 

Winning Edge – behind the scenes of elite cricket. Mike Hussey with David Sygall. Hardie Grant Books.

He began late as a Test cricketer, but history will reveal Mike Hussey was one of our greatest middle-order batsmen; an indispensable member of an excellent side. Hussey was always an incisive analyst; he was a meticulous preparer driven by an unconquerable will, and it was his intelligent approach that led him to be good at everything he turned his hand to, cricket-wise.

Turns out he does a good book as well. The conception and the content reveal why he was so accomplished as a player. He has produced a “how-to” manual which is underpinned by his unique insight and wisdom.

The book deals with topics as diverse as reading weather conditions to preparing for international sport. It begins with an anecdote that brings us into the modern, diverse, international dressing-room and reveals a moment of inspired leadership from MS Dhoni during the 2010 IPL season.

This is a volume luminous with telling anecdotes. A credit, no doubt, to Hussey’s co-author is its organisation into fascinating little headings like “workload hypocrisy” and “what is cricket fit?” that come to familiar topics from unusual angles.

Winning Edge is an excellent guide which challenges aspiring cricketers to think big, and enlightens us to a crucial aspect of Hussey’s mastery of the game: the scope of his awareness, which went well beyond the cricket field.

Those summers of cricket – Richie Benaud 1930-2015. Hardie Grant.

An attractive coffee-table medley of insights into the beloved Benaud during the various phases of his life: early years, cricketer, captain, journalist, mover-and-shaker in World Series Cricket, commentator. It ends with a compilation of tributes and “Benaud moments.”  Some of the views, written by contemporaries, you might have read before, others were written after his death. The book is interspersed with little snippets of Benaud wisdom, sidebars offering revealing historical details like junior cricket scores and Benaud’s own advice on preparing for cricket in a school publication, and some great photographs from every stage of his public life.

The Keepers – Australia’s wicketkeepers and the heart of Australian cricket. Malcolm Knox.

An absorbing close-up on Australian cricket through the lens of our wicketkeepers, The Keepers gives a real sense of the succession of our custodians, beginning with Jack Blackham, and the unique exclusivity of a position that is the most difficult of all to attain. Though much of the material is not new, it is organised in a way that proffers new insights. It reminds us, for example, of the pivotal role Rodney Marsh played in Australian cricket history.

A great read, not just for fans of the art of the wicketkeeper, but for those who are curious about some of the most interesting episodes of Australian cricket history.

The Establishment Boys – the other side of Kerry Packer’s Cricket Revolution. Barry Nicholls. New Holland.

They were a fascinating bunch, the men who found themselves in the parallel universe of Test cricket while all Australia’s established champions were occupied playing World Series Cricket. They were all good, but they were denied the usual apprenticeship, and found themselves so far out of their depth that it seemed plausible to call Bob Simpson out of a long retirement to lead them, and then replace him with a complete novice, the graceful left-handed batsman Graham Yallop. The emergence of the intractable Hogg and the intrepid champion Border, the revolving door of selection, the series win over India, the harrowing West Indies tour against a team packed with World Series Cricket players, and the flogging by the Poms in 1978-79 – it was a bumpy ride with bewildering bends. It ruined many careers and made a few. There are lessons in there, but no-one’s sure they’d wish it on anyone again. History has judged few of them worthy, and that’s a great shame.

Published in Inside Cricket, October, 2015  

Chasing Shadows – the life & death of Peter Roebuck. Tim Lane and EJ Cartledge. Hardie Grant Books.

The title, Chasing Shadows, refers to the authors’ task. It was bound to be problematic. The moral focus is way too foggy to help us distinguish the good from the evil. This is no parable, because nothing is analogous to it. The story falls into two distinct parts, and one cannot help noticing the disjuncture. Nothing in the first half of Roebuck’s life prepares us for the seemingly unrelated events of the second which led to his distressing end. Everyone who featured in the first half became strangely redundant as Roebuck’s life unfolded and we find they are perplexed, even offended, by this fact. The circumstances of his demise leaves them at a loss.

The second half of the book describes everything that happened in Roebuck’s life after some unforeseen tipping-point. It describes, in fact, a journey a little like that of Kurtz in Heart of Darkness. He began as a saviour of sorts. It seems he faltered. He waited for them to come for him. They did, and he ended it. Everything about Roebuck’s death, from his reasons for ending it to the unrelenting obfuscation of those charged with investigating it, remains as it was when it happened in November 2011.

Everything about his life attracts the sort of adjectives reserved for savants, bohemians, wunderkinds, yet he seems, on the surface, none of these things to some readers, all of them to others. But surface is all the authors have to work with, and that alone is a broad canvas. Deeper details lay beneath an impasto of Roebuck’s creation. His behaviour was always odd, obsessively, almost affectedly secretive and his presence always plangent. He was a paradox, an enigma, a contradiction, etc.

The story is well-told, not because it manages to assemble every obscure detail, but because even the most insignificant details are, thanks to the tellers, redolent of Roebuck. Cartledge and Lane have woven a net to catch the shadows, and they capture just enough of Roebuck’s essence – more than anyone has to date – to make an odd story compelling.

Test of Will. Glenn McGrath. Allen and Unwin.

This book is surprising. Its conception and delivery is excellent. McGrath speaks with confidential candour, and though it masquerades as a self-improvement book, it’s much more. The insights into players and events are fascinating; the glimpses into his inner life throughout one of the most successful careers ever and the tragedies he shared with the Australian public are revealing and, at times, poignant. We come to understand how substantial a man Glenn McGrath is, and this also gives us some insight into the mind that made him such a damned good bowler.

The 100 Greatest Cricketers. Geoff Armstrong. New Holland.

Geoff Armstrong departs from the normal “top 100” formula and organises his elite into teams: a First XI through to a Ninth XI. This ads a dimension – we get to speculate endlessly not only about the top 100 and who should be in it, but also whether, for instance, a ninth XI containing Lloyd, Walters, Thomson, McCabe and Healy would beat a First XI consisting of Bradman, Gilchrist, Sobers, Warne, Imran et al. Holding and Roberts open the bowling for the Seventh XI, supported by Procter, with Hayden opening the batting. Keith Miller, de Villiers and Barry Richards find themselves in the fifth XI. The discussion is endless – just keep it mature! A great read from an inexhaustible cricket scholar.

Remembering Richie – Richie Benaud and Friends. Hodder and Staughton.

Another offering in a torrent of homage to Richie, this has similar content to certain other tributes to the great man, with the added attraction of some of Richie’s own journalistic offerings. It’s also more cohesively biographical, and conveniently punctuated with headings and feature-style pull-quotes, so that it almost reads like a newspaper. An attractively packaged book and a great insight into Richie’s inner and professional life.

Kevin Pietersen on cricket – Sphere.

The tone and its depth suggest this was a spontaneous offering, dictated to his amanuensis – which it was. The tone is conversational and the events Pietersen chooses to illustrate his points are fascinating, if lacking any great analysis. But then, this doesn’t pretend to be that kind of book. It’s simply, as the title suggests, Kevin Pietersen expounding on a few important aspects of cricket, and his experience of them. It is a little top-of-the-head, but in some cases, its simplicity makes his examples easy to digest, and his proximity to many of the players mentioned in the book makes them, at times, fascinating.

Andrew Flintoff – Second Innings: My Sporting Life. Hodder & Staughton.

Typically engaging and frank, sometimes hilarious, sometimes touching, Andrew Flintoff’s book takes us through his tough childhood and every event in his public life, but refrains from sanitising any of it. Flintoff is a man who treats his faults and his strengths equally: with a shrug. His account of the 2005 Ashes series – “The Greatest Series”, as he calls it – is compelling. He also explains his odd, but obviously efficacious, approach to cricket, a game he never played at school. In a world where everything is supposedly quantifiable, he valued abstractions: visualisation and meaning. Practice came a distant second. A bright, agreeable read.

GAMES

Test Match – Crown and Andrews

Published in Inside Cricket, November, 2015

Test Cricket – the Unauthorised Biography. Jarrod Kimber. Hardie Grant.

This is cricket for dummies, and that’s not a negative criticism. In idiosyncratic, declarative prose reminiscent of Kurt Vonnegut (he’s got to be a fan), Jarrod Kimber presents the highlights and turning-points of Test cricket from its inception. Its structure is, to an extent, pre-determined. The collection of highlights reflects Test cricket’s journey into its current state. The details of each chapter are whimsically chosen, and even more fancifully held together. But some of the highlights Kimber selects are not necessarily the details history would select, and this is the best thing about Test Cricket – the Unauthorised Biography. It shows an appreciation for the unappreciated.

Benaud in Wisden. Ed. Rob Smyth. Bloomsbury.

This book offers the standard Wisden fare: contemporary accounts of the entire Test career of the great Richie that were published in the “cricket bible.” That alone is great reading for the cricket lover. Because it contains more, including some of Benaud’s own work and excellent essays from a range of the best cricket writers, from Fingleton to Haigh, the book really needs to break with tradition and provide something to guide the reader, like a page of contents, or an index. Still, it’s great reading, and provides yet another dimension to the ever-increasing corpus of homage to the man who changed cricket in so many ways. A highlight is the brief, heartfelt foreword from one of the very best fast bowlers in cricket history; the man with whom Benaud had a special relationship, on and off the field, and who remained his great friend until the day Richie died – Alan Davidson.

Michael Clarke – Ashes Diary 2015. McMillan Australia.

Not only a diary but a swansong, this book charts Clarke’s state of mind from the buoyant lead-up to the series to its muted end, marked by an otiose victory – and of course, his retirement before that final Test. Clarke’s behind-the-scenes account of Haddin’s omission and his description of the calamitous fourth Test are gripping reading, as is his revelation of the moment he decided enough was enough, with his dismissal in the second innings of that disaster. Even he can’t give us a reason for his sudden decline – he openly mulls questions as to whether it was his chronic back or the culmination of the natural, gradual process of decay that comes with age – but Clarke is always eloquent and candid, and for anyone who followed the series, this diary provides great interpretation: unbiased, analytical and, at times, moving. It is a chronicle of the end of a magnificent career, instructional to all lovers of the game, regardless of whether they liked the man or not.

Published in Inside Cricket, January, 2016

Jim Maxwell, The Sound of Summer – a memoir. Allen & Unwin.

When it comes to cricket season, if ever there was a voice to match that of Richie Benaud it has been Jim Maxwell’s. If you’re an Aussie cricket fan, you’ll know we’re not talking about timbre or tone. Elocution has never been much prized in Oz. It’s all about our kulcha, mate. That warm yet dry, enthusiastic but understated, erudite yet egoless delivery remains with us as long as Jim is there, and will probably be lost when he’s gone.

Sadly, there came a time when we no longer began our summers with Richie, and even for non-cricket fans, there was a sense that something was missing; a vague kind of existential malaise. This summer, we won’t have Jim announcing the start of ABC’s radio broadcast, because he suffered a stroke on air while covering the Rio Games in August. We were aghast, and the well-wishers haven’t ceased wishing Jim back to good health ever since.

Since 1973, we’ve taken great delight in leaving the radio on even as the TV telecast began – sometimes even (dare we say it?) at Richie’s expense. Certainly, as Kerry O’Keefe points out in the foreword, Jim’s lively but somehow soothing commentary has been a feature in Aussie cars since the Monaro was à la mode. What really stands out, apart from his commentary, has been his expert helmsmanship of the entire ABC coverage, under the banner of ABC Grandstand Cricket.

Oh – the book, by the way, is fantastic; a must for fans of the full experience of the game, the way it’s played and the way it’s broadcast. Jim divides his professional life into its significant episodes, like the death of Roebuck, his friend, the relating of which is typically minimal and poignant.

Jim, a man of dignity, defers to the poncey and superior people who populate cricket’s upper echelons and commentariat. But don’t get him wrong. The chapter titled ‘The day I took on Kerry Packer’ conveys something of his quiet, fearless persistence.

The reason this book is good is the telling. Maxy covers some momentous happenings and outstanding characters, and does it in an essentially Maxwellian way, which means he lets the action speak. But he is a radio man, unlike Richie, and understands our need for a summary. Thus he comes to his own conclusions and, nice bloke though he is, he challenges us with some of them: Packer was a bully, Roebuck was a good man, Warne is a narcissist, the Chappells are “competitive bastards”. But his message is based purely on undeniable observation, and it speaks loud and clear.

We’ll always need the reassurance a bloke like Jim brings into our homes – and our vehicles. He’d hate being called an Aussie icon. But he is one.

AB, The Autobiography. AB de Villiers. MacMillan.

This book is going to divide people, not so much for its content as its spirit. For a start, non-Christians will see it as some kind of auto-hagiography, especially after reading the first chapter in which, they’d say, AB spends a lot of time telling us how humble AB is. However, Christians will laud de Villiers for the way he boasts on The Lord’s behalf. Many will praise his balanced views on race and the South African government’s “affirmative action” policy, called the Transformation Policy. Others might go for the easy target and note that de Villiers seems to be a product of privilege – so how would he know prejudice when he sees it? Those who are deeply moral might enjoy his sincere piety. Today’s passionate moral high-horse, er, men, women, people, those who identify as other species, will be in a frenzy of ridicule. Most of the challenges de Villiers faced growing up were, undoubtedly, mere trifles faced by any well-connected, advantaged Afrikaaner. He even lived in a place called Warmbaths, for heaven’s sake.

Between the lines, we get a rounded picture of de Villiers and the culture that created him. His questioning of the Transformation Policy has already created ripples, but there’s nothing “racist” about his common sense treatment of the inclusion of Vernon Philander in the infamous 2015 World Cup match which South Africa lost to New Zealand on the final ball. He doesn’t believe Philander shouldn’t have been included because he was coloured, and anyone who says so is either dumb or devious. He believes he shouldn’t have been included because he was undeniably injured, and the man who should have been selected, Kyle Abbott, happened to be the Proteas’ best-performed bowler of the tournament. Philander went for 52 runs and left the field the moment his token term was over. That’s undeniable. The Proteas lost by the narrowest of margins. That’s undisputable. Teams play primarily to win games, not to platform politics – though that’s becoming less self-evident.

The book does offer some self-help gems – and who better to offer them than one of the planet’s more extraordinary sportsmen? His observation that those with talent are judged by posterity nowhere near as favourably as those with fight is profoundly true. His motives seem authentic enough. He doesn’t confuse honesty with tactlessness, nor candour with scandal-mongering. He’s encountered some very ordinary words and actions from some of the world’s top cricketers, but doesn’t say who they are. He praises everyone he’s played with unreservedly and offers vivid insights, into life with some of the best cricketers we’ve seen: Kallis, Smith, Amla, Ntini, Boucher et al.

It’s a good book, but de Villiers’ life circumstances have been, in many ways, fortunate and relatively unremarkable. His inner life is driven by his profound faith. This is inspiring to people of similar faith, but the reading can, at times, be bland. Given that he is an extraordinary cricketer, so revolutionary that it’s reasonable to assume Wisden would include him in the top five in any updated “Cricketers of the Century” edition, and given the extraordinary context he was raised in – a place that also happens to have produced some of the most astounding cricketers in history – his story remains to be told by a good biographer.

Published in Inside Cricket, October, 2016        

My Story – Michael Clarke. Macmillan Australia.

Many commendable aspects of Clarke’s time in the limelight are ignored by those who received unfavourable first impressions and give no second chances. As an on-field captain he was watchful, shrewd and ruthless in the application of decisions. That’s all cricket lovers should want from a captain, really. Clarke’s teams never lost Tests due to tactical stupidity. His public handling of the Hughes tragedy was admirable, considering the demands on him. Despite the world-weary eye-rolling of small-minded snipers, he didn’t make it all about him, and he wasn’t over the top.

Notwithstanding the book’s slightly irritating tendency to jump in and out of present and past tense, it’s an enjoyable read. In it Clarke describes some of the most combustible events of the last decade with carefully chosen words, an awareness of a bigger picture and little self-justification. That’s some feat, because, honestly, Clarke’s very existence is enough for detractors to question his motives.

He’s already been criticised for bringing up certain incidents, but after all the media’s toxic emissions about the Symonds contretemps, the Katich misunderstanding, the Mickey Arthur episode and the Watson affair, he has a right to clear the air. His descriptions are transparent and he admits culpability often. Age and retirement have given him a vantage he never enjoyed while he played, and from it, he regrets the timing and nature of certain actions and non-actions. If he’d got onto the front foot publicly at the time, or refrained from private confrontations, the damage might have been controlled and contained. He seems to acknowledge now that the captaincy might have been given to a bloke who, unlike Waugh, Taylor and Ponting, had not yet located himself. He’s happy to share his learning, verrucae and all, and it makes for a great read. These events, and the Hughes tragedy, are related more convincingly than anything I’ve heard or read so far.

Clarke identifies and explains causes in a way that suggests there was merit in his selection as a leader. The chapter on captaincy is, by the way, an excellent little guidebook for aspirants, illuminated with examples from his time at the helm. The brief chapter on his century in South Africa in 2014, coming after Morkel broke and bruised his body when evasive action was restricted because of his back, is a gripping account of one of the most noteworthy innings of modern times.

Overall, a surprisingly rich inner life informs a book that trumps most other accounts of the same events. Read it. You’ll understand the man a little better. You might even come to like him.

A Beautiful Game – my love affair with cricket. Mark Nicholas. Allen & Unwin.

Nicholas reminds me of mathematician Paul Dirac, who assessed any theory of physics according to one simple criterion: it had to be “mathematically beautiful”. If it was, therein lay its truth. He was always right. Nicholas’ valuation of any event or character in his cricket life is carried out in similar spirit. For example, it wasn’t that he behaved badly against a Pakistan team, featuring Waqar, Wasim and Javed, who he believed cheated and tried to intimidate the English side in a three-day match; it’s that the beauty of the game was despoiled by his own behaviour, and theirs.

Nicholas played 18 years of first-class cricket before joining the media full-time. Then he came to Australia. We might have originally resisted the idea that “this Pom” seemed to be getting groomed to take the revered Richie’s spot as anchor of the Channel Nine broadcast, but his zeal was catching. He plays along with some of the sillier antics of the Nine commentary box, but he’s an insightful observer whose praise or criticism lacks the opacity of another import who played county cricket, Peter Roebuck. As a writer, he doesn’t aspire to Cardus, but his narrative is sprung along powerfully by enthusiasm. With light but fluent touch, his gift is for bringing the reader into the action, even when that action involves a level of cricket the reader mightn’t have experienced.

The entire book is animated by lively, revealing anecdotes and musings. His relationship with men like Malcolm Marshall, Greenidge, Robin Smith and David Gower as a player actually reveals new things about them. His observations about batting and bowling are erudite and fascinating, and his intimate conversations with the world’s best practitioners – Bradman, Sobers, Viv and Barry, The Chappells, Marshall, Roberts, Warne  – spiced with some astonishingly revealing quotes, lend them even greater heft.

It seems there’s not a legend of the game with bat, ball, mike or pen, on either side of the microphone or fence, that Nicholas hasn’t been involved with, and he brings to life vividly cricket’s great cavalcade of characters. This is a passionate paean to the game he loves, and, once read, it will be revisited often, for entertainment or edification. That’s a sign of a very good book.

Published in Inside Cricket, November, 2016       

Stroke of Genius. Gideon Haigh. Hamish Hamilton.  

Haigh’s Ode on a Grecian Urn. The subject is one photograph – the image of Victor Trumper titled Jumping Out. The shot is an icon of personal remembrance to Haigh as well as a public monument. This act of devotion has been long in the preparation, lovingly germinated. Haigh’s first challenge is substantial: in a world of fluid expression, to persuade the modern reader that the very stillness of an image is momentous; ageless, independent of time, immutable, even when old age shall this generation waste; to convince them that there’s a kind of consummation, not frustration, in stasis – the forever-unfulfilled. To invest his iconographic obsession with significance and context, Haigh delves into the history of photography and the visual representation of cricket, detours into subjects like race, class and steamship travel, and renders biographical sketches of luminaries like CB Fry and Ranjitsinhji before returning to the protagonists, Trumper himself and Beldam, who took the snap, carefully interlacing all these strands of research and scholarship.

Gideon would agree that his second challenge in lingering iconologically on one single representation is that of the scientist dissecting a frog, or a critic humour: the risk of killing it. He negotiates the procedure deftly.

As with Keats, his picture takes him on flights of fancy that embrace clay-clogged human experience. Jumping out allows Haigh to toy with the notion that Trumper, the man, represents something bigger: the durability of myth which exists outside impermanent time. The photo becomes not only history, but historian.

Stroke of Genius is all about the making of Trumper’s image – by Beldam and by Haigh. It’s a hearty casserole for the cricket lover with particular tastes, baked up by an erudite enthusiast.

Tests of Character – Confessions of cricket legends. Jeremy Wiltshire. Echo Publishing.  

Wiltshire has interviewed an impressive range of cricket characters and questioned them on the significant moments of their careers. They’re all eminent: Bedi, Sangakkara, Gilchrist, Barry Richards, Holding, Murali, Ian Chappell among them.

The chapters are divided into sections: “My Word”, “Test of Character” – their first-hand account of their hardest game – and “Face up”, in which they answer the hard questions. The intros to each chapter, written by Wilshire, are eloquently informative. One section, “Tea” (the book is divided into “sessions”) features “light refreshments” from John Cleese, Kerry O ‘Keefe and Harsha Bogle, and Australia’s appointed third umpire on every matter of consequence, Waleed Aly. Many of the former players’ insights about the incidents that defined their careers and their own inner thoughts are intriguing. Some of them we’ve heard before and others – like Gilchrist’s startling admission that self-confidence was an issue for him – are fresh and entertaining.

Chris Rogers (with Daniel Brettig) – Bucking the Trend. Hardy Grant.   

This book is inherently interesting, because it’s about one of the more intriguing characters Australian cricket has seen in recent years. Rogers has a fascinating tale to tell, not just of his own life and career, but also of the great cast of characters he’s encountered at the top level and on the mill of the professional cricketer. He writes like a man who’s happy with adjectives like “unsung” and “journeyman”, but his humble tale reminds us of his critical role in Australian cricket. During his short time in our Test team, he was a bloody hero and for a man who, along with Harris, Smith, Johnson and Warner, resuscitated Australian cricket, to remain “unsung” is a travesty. The words are knocked into shape by Brettig, who also provides a scene-setting introduction to each chapter, but the cricketing insights are Rogers’, and always riveting. Bucking the Trend has a refreshing absence of gratuitous controversy on the one hand and turgid pomposity on the other that characterise many of cricket’s literary offerings of late.

A Pictorial History of Australian Test Cricket – Ken Piesse. Echo. Hardback  

Good ol’ Kenny Piesse should have his own monument for his humble, diligent services to Australian cricket, going right back to his days as founding editor of Cricketer magazine. Here he has produced an attractive coffee-table book, effectively an iconography (there’s that word again) of Australian cricket, peppered with photos, images of old cricket cards and illustrations, all given coherence with elegant design and Piesse’s own lively narrative.

Brad Hogg (with Greg Growden). The Wrong ‘Un. Nero.   

A fetching, frank memoir from a Chinaman bowler who should have been more than an enduring BBL cult figure. Hoggy is much-loved and a much better bowler than his figures suggest. The best thing about this tale is that it’s less a cricketing autobiography than a chronicle of a fortunate life, full of rollicking Aussie yarns, barely-believable characters and brutally blunt self-reflection. Any diehard fan of Hoggie’s – and there are many – would love this for Christmas even if, like Hoggy himself, he or she is “not much of a reader.”

Front foot – The Law that Changed Cricket. Doug Ackerly. Self-published.

We all encounter them: people so single-minded about a subject, they make you feel as though you’ve missed something momentous. You feel inadequate because you should have given it more consideration yourself. Eventually, you console yourself with the thought that this might be the hobby-horse of some monomaniacal get-a-life, and you edge toward the exit. Upon starting Front foot – The Law that Changed Cricket, you get the feeling that will be your destination. The first hint that it might deserve much weightier consideration is the forward by Ian Chappell, which undoubtedly adds kilos of heft. He has a way of using anecdote to make a cricket subject fascinating. Chappell was opposed to the front-foot rule from the start. He also played alongside the author at North Melbourne in the late 1970s.

The book is heavy going – a molasses of evidence and data. But it all leads to an unavoidable conclusion: the front-foot rule changed the game profoundly, and needs revisiting. The author demonstrates that most of the game’s desiderata, from wasted time to chronic injury, can be traced to a rule originally designed to prevent fast bowlers – notably Australia’s Gordon Rorke – “dragging” in order to get a lot closer to the batsman. Any of the solutions suggested would be better than the current statute. This book is not about style, just solid substance, and it should be a landmark study. It’s a work of passion, and anyone who cares about cricket, particularly the game’s lawmakers, should have a serious read.

Brad Haddin – My Family’s Keeper. Brad Haddin. Harper Collins.

Haddin takes us on an interesting journey in this surprising book. Expecting a breezy cricketing autobiography seasoned with some motivational wisdom from a man who began as a provisional wicketkeeper and ended as a mainstay of Australia’s batting and spiritual cornerstone of the side – not to mention excellent custodian – we got instead an emotional tour of Brad’s inner life. It is an autobiography, but it’s centred on events following that terrible, harrowing moment when he discovered his daughter was fighting for her life. The experience with Mia in hospital is the narrative take-off point, and from there, certain moments trigger reverie and remembrance of other events in his life.

He kept Mia’s battle with neuroblastoma private until now, and he shares the experience as an offering of hope to all of us. It bloody well works! It goes well beyond cricket. You will enjoy it.

Resilient. Mitchell Johnson. Harper Collins.

A stock-standard autobiography, timed to coincide with the start of the first post-Johnson cricket season. But because it’s MJ, and because some spicy items in recent Australian cricket are covered off (though we’ve heard enough versions of the Mickey Arthur “homeworkgate” incident to give us a thick description, and we’re still not certain Johnson’s version does anything more to convince us Arthur did much wrong), it’s topical reading. An intriguing aspect of the book is Johnson’s complete awareness of the way he was perceived throughout most of his career as a dangerous but erratic and fragile tearaway who only needed to be “seen off”. He leads us through the fascinating topography of his mind, and how it led to a decision to harden up and – to the extent that any fast bowler can – shut up. That decision changed cricket for a time as it sent tremors through the world’s best batting lineups. Any timelessness about Resilient lies in the fact that it’s a Mitchell Johnson memento. The Johnson “era” now seems a distant peak. You don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone, and this book reminds us of what a man of powerful presence can do for a national Test team.

Benaud: an appreciation. Brian Matthews. The Text Publishing Company.

Matthews is a good, “old fashioned” Aussie storyteller; a writer of piquant prose. His writing has merit without being meretricious, eloquence without pomposity. It’s Richie Benaud the author wants to bring us, not Brian Matthews. But what he does achieve is to place Brian Matthews, and therefore all watchers, fans and hero-worshippers, in the box seat. The text a hero like Benaud creates as he writes history is one thing. The way that text is appropriated by those who “read” it is another. A good writer and observer is able to select details that invest the hero’s career with significance. If the appropriator is articulate and insightful, he can make fandom seem meaningful, legitimising our role as players in a central drama. Australia’s implausible Benaud-inspired win at Old Trafford in 1961, following the famous 1960-61 summer, is the narrative centrepiece of Matthews’ book. Despite the odd little lapse into self-indulgence, it’s a rollicking, robust read for the real fan of cricket.

Published in Inside Cricket, December, 2016

Cricket Outlaws – Inside Kerry Packer’s World Series revolution. Austin Robertson. Pan Macmillan.  

Cricket is a marvellous generator of stories with a legacy of great raconteurs. Sometimes it gets a little too fond of its own voice, when all the keen fan really wants is to know the full story. You won’t get a fuller account of the great apostasy called World Series Cricket than Robertson’s book. Because he himself was at the centre of the entire show, his knowledge of the events and the dramatis personae, from leading characters to bit-players, is intimate. Through its protagonists and their first-hand accounts, Robertson delivers the entire picture. The title of each chapter is the name of one of the characters. The first part is Robertson’s introduction and explanation of the nature of their involvement. The second consists of their own anecdotes. The list of personalities seems endless, from Packer himself to the spouses of certain movers and shakers, such as Daphne Benaud and Barbara Chappell. It’s a reminder that WSC was much more than a cricket revolution.

It’s a colourful, kaleidoscopic look at a fascinating episode in cricket/sporting/television/social history.

Chappell’s Last Stand. Michael Sexton. Affirm Press.

It rehashes quite a bit of lore from that incredible season of cricket, 1975-76, but emerging from it is the captivating personality of one of cricket’s giants. During that summer, Ian Chappell played in the sensational Test series against the West Indies, having stepped down as captain to hand the reins to his brother, Greg. But he also led his South Australian side from the Sheffield Shield wooden spoon to the title. His triumphant season had the usual Chappell stamp: controversy on the field, contretemps with officialdom, the imposition of his will upon games of cricket and, ultimately, a victorious summer. But those of us who lived through, and loved, the Chappell years understand that the man was never a mere agitator, as many chronic conformists claim.

He had an uncomplicated opinion of what makes for success in cricket, and in life, and, simply, it didn’t involve deception, the misuse of authority, politics, ego, mediocrity, laziness and the meretricious. He also harboured a deep reverence for the game and its history, domestically and internationally. The events detailed in this book bear this out. It’s why he is respected at home and by many an international cricket dignitary. Viv Richards and Clive Lloyd, who toured at the time, speak admiringly of a ruthless competitor, a compelling leader who had it all in perspective.

Great Australian Test Cricket Stories – Ashley Mallett. ABC Books.

This is a bit of a collage, deliberately lacking a unifying theme. There are a few rehashed yarns that have been doing the rounds for decades, but when Mallett turns his analytical eye to a subject – and he does it just enough – his book becomes a fascinating treasure hunt. He combines technical breakdown with illustrative anecdote to bring to life the greatest cricketers he’d ever seen first-hand, or played against – men like Sobers, Miller, Warne, Botham, Imran, Tendulkar. It’s a long list. This aspect of his book lifts it considerably.

The official MCC Story of the Ashes. Bernard Whimpress. Hardie-Grant books.

This is the fifth edition of The official MCC Story of the Ashes, and it’s a breezy but comprehensive read. Well-conceived, with updated content and design, it’s thematic chapter headings tell of the unfolding narrative in a fascinating way. The images are varied and plentiful and the little breakout “features” tell stories-within-stories to keep it interesting.

Herding Cats – The Art of Amateur Cricket Captaincy. Charlie Campbell. Bloomsbury.

Any amateur cricket captain familiar with the phases of the summer, from the initial buoyant expectation of first net practice to the prosaic realities of dealing with flawed, talentless and/or unambitious weekend hacks will laugh heartily at the brutal but eloquent bluntness of this hilarious account.

 

Lillee & Thommo – The Deadly Pair’s Reign of Terror. Ian Brayshaw.   

Like Mallett, Ian Brayshaw has been pumping out books since the 1970s, and like Rowdy, he writes as an insider who played cricket at the top level, often alongside or against his subjects. Hence, as with Mallett, most of his books are centred in the 1970s. And they’re great! Always informative, always comprising ingredients that add piquancy to an otherwise familiar repast.

Feeling is The thing that Happens in 1000^th of a Second – a season of Cricket Photographer Patrick Eagar. Christian Ryan. Riverrun.    

At times overwrought, at times lyrical and deeply insightful, this is an entertaining celebration of a worthy subject – the art of a man who was possibly cricket’s most accomplished photographer, Patrick Eagar.

The Pocket History of the Ashes – all you need to know about cricket’s greatest contests. Barry Nicholls. New Holland Publishers Australia

This hardcover’s cunningly embossed cover, clever yellow, its fonts and layout echo a certain other venerable cricket publication. This is not deliberate, of course 😊. The accounts of Ashes contests even look like bread-and-butter Wisden accounts, but for good writing and imaginative design. Facts are subsumed under headings with inventive, contemporary touches like ‘Twitter Fact’ and ‘Facebook Moment’ – which really jump out from any account of pre-internet era cricket, even up to 1993. It works a treat. Great reference book.

BBQ, Beer and B.S. – Food to bowl you over. Merv Hughes. New Holland Publishers Australia.

The only kind of serve you’ll ever get from Merv the Swerve – hefty! The recipes are no doubt selected carefully from elsewhere – at least Merv admits that his “signature dish” is burnt meat! – but it’s a great compilation. We do wonder how much of that cucumber salad and red cabbage and apple slaw really went into making up that weighty frame. We’ll take him seriously as a gourmet, as distinct from gormandiser, when he brings out a vegan edition. Any well-indexed cookbook with plenty of recipes and loads of variety is a good cookbook, and along with Merv’s anecdotal sides, it adds theme to that backyard barbie and cricket match.

Published in Inside Cricket, November, 2017     

The Journey – My Story, from Backyard Cricket to Australian Captain. Steve Smith with Brian Murgatroyd. Allen and Unwin. RRP $34.99

Certain sportspeople give you a strong sense of some infinite purpose being worked out. This seems more the case with Steve Smith than with many of his predecessors as leader – indeed, many other sportspeople. Smith’s book is written with an awareness of this purpose – his life seems to have been lived with a sense of this purpose! – and he seems to want his readers to learn from his journey, rather than merely to tell it.

Smith is an unassuming character, and thanks to that and no doubt the efforts of ghostie Brian Murgatroyd, this book lacks all those clichés of forced humility. He refrains from describing his progress as “lucky”, his inclusion in a team as “fortunate” or his personal triumphs as “team efforts”. He wants us to know they are the result of an effort of will, and that, therefore, the success he’s had is within our power. Smith revels in the opportunity to teach, and it arises from a generosity of spirit. Far from being self-absorbed, Smith always seems to be aware of who is watching; every attainment is an opportunity to educate.

Smith is happy take credit for personal successes and blame for failures; to share the aspects of his life that made him a success; to analyse the failures and faults that were, in fact, his teachers, in detail, because he wants the reader to know how he overcame them. That aspect of his life is very important to Smith. So is subduing his substantial talent and creativity to the clear purpose of his career, innings by innings, match by match. The book was written before his monumental innings in Brisbane’s first Ashes Test, but what a symbol that was for Smith’s intent in cricket, and life.

Smith doesn’t want to be anyone’s Golden Boy. He wants to win games of cricket and perform at his best with the blade. Yet with each character-filled innings, his aura gains in power and intensity. In his autobiography he tells a charming, unaffected story and every page is alive with his personality.

Heroes of the Hour. Ken Piesse. Bonnier Publishing.

Sometimes, single deeds, no matter how impressive, are not enough to impress the historians and statisticians among us. They’re too transient; deserving only of a passing mention in bar banter. In the face of a momentous, soul-stirring or career-defining act, some onlookers remain as impassive as the art world’s most famous dead-bat, Andy Warhol. The deeds Piesse has chosen are the marrow of the game. Though they are all performed by cricketers whose fame will endure, they still provide us with defining moments, some of which, like Max walker’s 6/15 against Pakistan in 1973, would otherwise be lost to most young readers’ notice. The simple device of briefly explaining the feat at the start of the chapter excites the desire to read on. A great little book. I’d love to see one featuring the notable one-off performances of less-famous players. They all go toward making cricket – sport – something we never tire of watching.

The Grade Cricketer: Tea and No Sympathy. Dave Edwards, Sam Perry and Ian Higgins. Allen and Unwin.

The rollicking, picaresque tale of our kind-of hero continues. It’s a novel (written as a series of episodes), not a non-fiction book, but what makes it so hilarious is the fact that the characters and events are surreally real. Anyone who has played cricket at the club level has encountered them. The fact that The Grade Cricketer: Tea and No Sympathy has a fictional plot which actually lends it some sort of narrative cohesiveness doesn’t detract from the reality that underpins it all; a fact of life that Warner Brothers exploited hilariously in hundreds of cartoons during the classic years. It’s this: the funniest moments in life occur when someone has an aching desire for something, pursues it with a passion and fails to attain it. The Grade Cricketer books are about thwarted ambition, pathetically high self-regard and the Kafkaesque absurdities of any pursuit that brings human beings together – particularly cricket.  The unsightly sights, unappealing sounds and unpleasant smells of the dressing room and the fear of what fate or a fast bowler might deliver just enhance the comedy. No spoilers. Just read it!

Henry Blofeld – Over and Out. Hodder and Stoughton.

Cricket can be pretty self-referential at times, its commentators and meaning-makers turning to one-another for copy once the players dry up as a source of subject matter. But commentators like Benaud and Blowers are revered even by the average punter, because cricket’s devotees appreciate things about their game and its environment that followers of other sports would struggle to appreciate. Even the crassest fans love the arcane places cricket takes them; the little alcoves and taverns where stories of the game from the field to the fringes are shared over food and drink.

As the star of Test Match Special, Henry Blofeld was the tweedy voice of English cricket for over 40 years who, because of his polished, patrician tones, was able to get away with hours of irrelevant observation or the odd egregious faux pas. He was so highbrow, no-one raised an eyebrow. But Henry also spoke a language we all understand: enthusiasm. He’s a bon vivant who loves everything life has to offer and drew it all into his commentary of the game. Blowers’ plummy ruminations would take in pigeons, pâtissiers, smokestacks, silk shirts or topless blondes without discrimination, and make them sound somehow essential to doings out in the middle. But the great thing about Blowers was that he was an intelligent commentator who never felt the need intellectualise.

His favourite moments, his most memorable cricket people, his beloved places, are related as only Blowers can relate them, dear boy, and it makes for an entertaining read.

The Official Big Bash Book, 2017-18. Daniel Lane.

Given the near-impossibility of saying anything conclusive about the teams until the day before the competition starts, the Big Bash book is a handy research tool, and a nice, entertaining resource for the fan who can’t wait for the Big Bash and WBBL to begin. It’s reader-friendly and as instructional as you need it to be, with up-to-date (but not conclusive) rundowns of every team, including its form in BBL|06, profiles, performers and memorable moments. The competition comes and goes so quickly, as do the players in any given game, this book is a chance for the kids to get a glimpse behind-the-scenes, to hear some stories and to understand what it is that makes the competition so fascinating.

Mighty Mitch! Aussies vs England: Game On! Mitchell Starc. Scholastic.

The first of a series of kids’ books in which Mitch takes us on a journey through the childhood of Mitch himself. Popping with funny anecdotes every backyard cricketer will relate to, and full of informative diagrams and illustrations about the game as it’s played on the field, it will satisfy young fans of the man himself and those wanting to know more about the game that made him great.

A Clear Blue Sky. Jonny Bairstow with Duncan Hamilton.

The death of his father, the popular England and Yorkshire wicketkeeper, David Bairstow, was the defining moment of Jonny Bairstow’s life. There’s no getting around it. Bairstow, with substantial help from his ghost writer, accomplished journalist Duncan Hamilton, addresses it head-on. When Jonny was eight, David Bairstow died by his own hand, and the reasons are still a mystery to Jonny, his sister Becky and half-brother Andy, and mother Janet, who’d been diagnosed with cancer just before his death.

Because Jonny’s family found a way to negotiate life in the face of David’s death, and because he himself became such a success despite, or because of it all, A Clear Blue Sky is an inspiring book. The fact that he chose cricket, and his father’s very occupation, as his vehicle is poignant, and telling. He happened to be a very good rugby and football player as well. He’s tackled his dad’s profession with a vengeance, becoming full-time England ‘keeper and breaking the record for most Test dismissals and runs in a year by a wicketkeeper.

This inherently fascinating story also happens to be very well told. The swarm of emotions, the strategies he and his family developed to deal with them, the importance of mutual support and, importantly, the mental and emotional journey Bairstow underwent all go to ensure we know him very well by the time we’re done. The ebbs and flows and the insightful, sensitive prose lend A Clear Blue Sky a mesmerising rhythm that makes it hard to put down.

Published in Inside Cricket, December, 2017    

Under the Southern Cross – the heroics and heartbreak of the Ashes in Australia. Andrew Ramsey. Harper Collins.

A nice, lush hardcover that captures the key characters, events and performances of Ashes cricket in Australia from 1877, Under the Southern Cross is an informative read accompanied by superb photographs. My only complaint is that Chapter 5, ‘High Points’, is inexplicably short. There have been many more than the five selected. But overall, the book covers all the great characters that have made Australian Ashes series cricket’s big ticket item – including the grounds themselves. It’s a handsome book with plenty of substance.

Ashes Cricket. Five-Star Games.

Lushly packaged in maroon and gold, and even containing a little reproduction of the original public notice announcing the death of English Cricket that began the Ashes legend, Ashes Cricket is an entertaining, highly-interactive game featuring photography-standard graphics. You can work with the women’s and the men’s teams with a comprehensive player (and umpire!) creator, deep career mode and fully customised player experience. Players can create their own competitions and online functionality allows for competition with gamers anywhere!

Published in Inside Cricket, January 2018