Contents

Foreword by Ashton Agar

Author’s Introduction

Charles Bannerman

Richie Benaud

Allan Border

Don Bradman

Peter Burge

Ian & Greg Chappell

Michael Clarke

Alan Davidson

Chuck Fleetwood-Smith

Adam Gilchrist

Jack Gregory

Clarrie Grimmett

Ryan Harris

Neil Harvey

Matthew Hayden

Clem Hill

Kim Hughes

Merv Hughes

Mike Hussey

Archie Jackson

Mitchell Johnson

Bill Johnston & Doug Ring

Dean Jones

Simon Katich

Bill Lawry

Dennis Lillee

Ray Lindwall

Charlie Macartney

Arthur Mailey

Bob Massie

Stan McCabe

Colin McDonald

Glenn McGrath

Graham McKenzie

Keith Miller

Arthur Morris

Steve O’Keefe

Norman O’Neill

Bill O’Reilly

Ricky Ponting

Ian Redpath

Chris Rogers

Bobby Simpson

Steve Smith

Fred Spofforth

Mitchell Starc

Mark Taylor

Jeff Thomson

Victor Trumper

Tom Veivers

Max Walker

Doug Walters

Shane Warne

David Warner

Mark Waugh

Steve Waugh

Acknowledgements

Notes

About the Author

Foreword

By Ashton Agar

It’s still the best week of my life – at Trent Bridge playing in an Ashes Test, sharing a big partnership with my hero Phil Hughes. We were talking between overs. ‘Next ball,’ he kept repeating, keeping me in the now. It was genius really. He was just so determined. You could see it in his eyes. We were to add 163 and I was batting at No. 11. I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. This was what I’d dreamed about all my life.

My mum Sonia, dad John and my brothers Will and Wes along with my girlfriend Madeleine were among the big crowd, having arrived just in time to see Glenn McGrath present me with my baggy green cap. Glenn talked about how I had the full support of all my teammates and staff around me. He also made sure I understood the ‘pride, honour and respect’ that the baggy green represents. Glenn told me to go and play the way I knew how to play. And most importantly, to enjoy the experience. It was simple, meaningful advice for a 19-year-old kid.

It was all so surreal. Only a fortnight earlier I’d been packing my bags in Bristol and looking forward to seeing everybody at home again (after the Australia A tour) when John Inverarity called. He told me that I had been selected to join the Ashes touring party, along with Steve Smith. It was unclear for how long I would stay in the beginning, but little did I know that things would change very quickly. It was a huge surprise and a phone call I’ll never forget.

Approaching Test match week, we’d had a warm-up game in Worcester. I knew I was a chance to play at Trent Bridge as normally, especially for a spinner, they’d pick you in the final warm-up game before the Test, so you could be in your best rhythm and have plenty of overs under your belt. I felt good. It was the best possible preparation.

It was awesome just walking out onto the ground at Trent Bridge alongside my Australian teammates at training. There is so much history there. Two days before the Test we had an optional practice session and I was told I was playing. ‘You’re in, mate, go and call your parents,’ said Darren Lehmann and Rod Marsh, both shaking my hand. They wanted to ease a bit of the pressure on me and asked me keep it under wraps. I told very few people; it was a big secret.

My family booked tickets straight away and basically hopped on the plane that night, all four of them: Mum, Dad, Will and Wes. Madi was also there to share the moment, it was so special.

People ask if I was overwhelmed by it all? Was I ready? Was it too soon? However, I always say it was the right time because I had been playing good cricket. I’d had a good second half of the year for Western Australia (WA) and been picked for Australia A. Several of the guys from the major Test squad had been playing with us as part of their own preparations. I felt I had the support of everyone.

Before the match in Worcester, Michael Clarke told me I was a strong chance to play: ‘Just go out there and enjoy yourself, youngster.’ His words filled me with confidence. It was great having the support from someone I had always idolised as a kid, and whose 150 on debut in India remains a clear vision in my head.

On the morning of the game, after the cap ceremony, Boof (Lehmann) approached and said, ‘Sorry, you’re batting at Jack [11].’ I totally understood. Peter Siddle had made a couple of 50s in one of the recent Tests in India, James Pattinson could bat, so could ‘Starcy’ (Mitchell Starc), who had a 99 in one Test. I’d never batted at 11 before. I was just grateful to be there.

I had my old faithful TNF (Tails Never Fails) bat, which was well worn-in but the ball came off the bat beautifully. Michael Sheedy had looked after me with gear ever since I was a 15-year-old at Richmond Cricket Club.

We were 9-117 when I walked out to meet Phil Hughes at the crease. The wicket was good but all I could think was, don’t get out first ball. Once I saw that ball out, I felt confident and relaxed. Phil helped to keep me in the moment and keep me working hard. I owe so much to his grit and determination that day. I actually denied him another Test 100 by getting out. It’s history now that I got to 98 before I was out on the pull shot. I was a compulsive hooker and puller back then. I hit the ball flat and straight to Graeme Swann at deep mid-wicket. Had I looked to hit it over the top it might have gone all the way. I had no regrets at the time and to this day that hasn’t changed one bit. How could you … making 98 in your first match. I’d always wanted to be on the big stage and now I was part of it.

We almost won that game. ‘Hadds’ (Brad Haddin) played a great innings on the final day of an amazing Test. It was so nerve-wracking watching on as Hadds and James Pattinson took us within 20 or so of our target. It wasn’t to be, but it was still an unforgettable game. Jonny Bairstow came into our rooms after the game and presented me with one of the stumps. It was a very classy and kind gesture. It’s at home with Mum and Dad now, along with my favourite Phil Hughes poster I used to have plastered on my bedroom wall and my old TNF bat, which sadly I broke the very next morning warming up in the nets. I should never have been using it. Michael Clarke kindly offered me one of his. Now that was surreal. It was well known that his were the nicest bats in the room and he laid out three in front of me. ‘Take your pick, youngster,’ he said. Two had been used a little and one was brand new.

‘Can I take the fresh one?’ I asked.

‘Sure.’

I stickered it up with TNF on it there and then. I was to play again in the next Test at Lord’s and stay on for the rest of the tour.

It was some introduction for me and no doubt fast-tracked my learning curve. Four years on, with all the extra experience, I am a better player now than I was then. Hopefully it holds me in good stead for whenever another opportunity to play Test cricket on the big stage may arise. It’s what every cricketer wants.

I’d like to pay tribute to Phil Hughes. I could not have done what I did that innings without his unwavering support at the other end. He showed me that day what it means to represent your country! I’m so proud to have shared such a special moment in my life with him. We had a great time out there, it was really fun.

I’d also like to thank Ken Piesse for asking me to be a part of this book. It was easy to say ‘yes’ – I never tire of talking about Nottingham or that opening Test. Trent Bridge holds a special place in my heart.

Ken shared with me some of the early chapters. It’s lovely to be in such elite company with the likes of Adam Gilchrist, Mike Hussey and Glenn McGrath, guys I’d been watching since I was in primary school. I loved watching them train at the Junction Oval in St Kilda. Afterwards they’d sign autographs for all the kids, me included. Mum still has all the photos to prove it. It’s always good to look back on it all. I’m sure Ken’s latest will also bring back some great memories for you, too.

Ashton Agar

Perth, 2017

Author’s Introduction

Cricket folklore revolves around the extraordinary. From the heroics of Don Bradman’s Invincibles at Leeds in 1948 to Mark Waugh’s steely match-winning 100 at Port Elizabeth in 1997 and David Warner’s exuberant century before lunch in Sydney in 2017, we thrive on the game’s signature moments.

Ashes performances define a cricketer’s true worth. Dennis Lillee, Steve Waugh, Steve Smith, Ricky Ponting … they have all delivered when it was most crucial – against the English.

For key occasions where Tests have been turned by a ball, a catch or a fabulous innings, cricket purists can tell you their exact location, even their row and seat number.

When Warnie famously flippered Richie Richardson at the MCG Boxing Day Test match in 1992, I was positioned five rows back, almost directly behind the wicket in the old Cigar Stand with my mate Graham Wilson from the Four Kinsmen. The commentators initially called it a googly, but Warnie rarely bowled one. At first, he’d worried that it would bounce twice. Instead, he perfected a slider and then a quicker one again, his famed flipper first learnt from the Cricket Academy’s Jack Potter before he added some refinements encouraged by his long-time mentor Terry Jenner. Watching on TV that early afternoon from his home in Glenelg, ‘TJ’ almost jumped out of his lounge chair as the ball scuttled under Richardson’s bat and zeroed into his middle and off stumps. It was every coach’s dream ball.

Years earlier, in 1967, also in Melbourne, everyone’s hero, high-powered paceman Graham ‘Garth’ McKenzie took six wickets all before lunch on the gloomiest of late December days against the Nawab of Pataudi’s startled Indians. It was 15 maybe 16 degrees Celsius but with the southerly blowing straight down the ground from the Antarctic it felt like 10.

My dad, mum and I all huddled together in our jumpers and coats but the cricket was electric. Garth bowled like the wind.

I was there when Steve Waugh smoked the final delivery of the day from Richard Dawson through extra cover to bring up his century at the Sydney Cricket Ground (SCG) in early 2003. Everyone in the press box jumped to their feet in acclamation. Later, when Steve entered the press conference area with that Charlie Chaplin walk of his, the whole media contingent stood and applauded. Even the Poms. The buzz around the Australian team at practice the following morning was amazing. Everyone wanted to talk about it.

A decade later, in July 2013, we were with 400 equally animated Aussies in Nottingham in a big barn of a room on the eve of the first Test in Robin Hood country. Ashes trio Nathan Lyon, James Faulkner and Matthew Wade, all in official Australian garb, were among the guests of honour. It was clear Faulkner and Wade were reserves, but surely not Lyon. He’d taken a ‘seven-for’ in his last Test appearance, just three months earlier. As soon as the speeches finished, I bowled up to Australia’s spin king and suggested that he should be back at the Park Plaza, ‘resting up for tomorrow’.

‘Oh, they haven’t picked the team yet,’ he said.

As the touring team’s frontline spinner, Lyon had every right to think he would be among the first selected, but he already knew he was in the backblocks. He just couldn’t say so publicly. We were being thrown a curve ball.

These were bizarre days for Australian cricket. While Australia had been humbled 4-nil by India in autumn, four players had been suspended for not completing a mid-tour homework chore. It was the most pie-eyed, ludicrous administrative bungle in Australia’s cricket history. Those disciplined included the vice-captain Shane Watson, who went home temporarily, very publicly questioning the worth of high performance manager Pat Howard and castigating him for his role in the stand-downs. A week later, Watson was back in India as the team’s stand-in captain!

The once-proud leaders of the cricket world were losing face like never before. Just days into the new tour, the head coach was sacked and frontline batsman David Warner sent to Siberia.1 Two reinforcements, Steve Smith and teenager Ashton Agar, were lifted into the group, totally from left field. Was veteran selection chairman John Inverarity publicly admitting he’d bungled the selection of the original 16?

That night, ‘Invers’ was out to dinner at the same venue as our Australian Cricket Society Ashes party. Our conversation was light and short and revolved around the event we’d all just attended – and the composition of the next day’s team.

‘Picked a good XI, Inver?’

‘Hope so.’

‘Any shocks?’

‘Not to us.’

The following morning, bright and early, our group marched into historic Trent Bridge, the one-time home of old Bodyliners Harold Larwood and Bill Voce. Directly ahead of us on the arena just in front of the dressing rooms stood the unmistakeable figure of Glenn McGrath. The pace legend, in a huddle with Michael Clarke and the Australian squad, was handing over a brand new baggy green to a tall, tanned kid, unknown to most of our Australian Cricket Society tourists. It was Agar, the athletic bowling all-rounder from De La Salle College, lured west to fast-track his first-class ambitions. Australia had selected a first-game smoky, so unknown that a week earlier his own captain had to introduce himself. He’d never even seen him play. Agar’s parents John and Sonia and younger brothers Will and Wes was also there, having just flown in from Melbourne. They’d been told of young Ash’s selection 36 hours earlier.

Agar, 19, was to be Australia’s specialist spinner and bat at No. 11. One of the officiating umpires Kumara Dharmasena, a former Test spinner, asked Clarke about Agar’s bowling. ‘He’s good,’ said Clarke. ‘But he’s an even better batsman.’2

Agar’s debut was astonishing. Australia was being pummelled early before the little-known teenager scored 98 in a remark­able 163-run 10th-wicket stand with Phillip Hughes. Australia lost what was to become an epic match, but Agar was the hero of the hour … and the inspiration behind this book. Hope you enjoy it.

Ken Piesse

Mt Eliza, 2017

Charles Bannerman

MCG, Melbourne: 15 & 16 March 1877

Age: 26

Feat: His century on the very first day of Test cricket thrills a Dominion

The appetite for cricket in the colonies was extraordinary. When Charles Bannerman tucked the second ball of cricket’s first Grand Match square of the wicket for a single, there was a concerto of polite applause and excited tittering. More than 2000 Melburnians had arrived for the start, many as early as 10 o’clock, responding to an article in that morning’s Argus. Those running the beer tents and food marquees were flat out. The carnival atmosphere was enhanced by the presence of Allan’s Premier Brass Band, playing popular ditties of the day.

Ladies paraded on the member’s lawn in their finery. It was quite an occasion. Some of the thirstier attendees in the tents became impatient for play to begin. But all was forgiven when the players finally entered the arena shortly after 1 p.m. The colourful ties and belt bands sported by members of the English XI drew most favourable comments.

This was a grand international event. Never before had a Combined XI from Melbourne and Sydney contested a true 11-a-side match against 11 professionals from the Home Country. Despite the four shillings’ surcharge, there wasn’t a spare seat in the Melbourne Cricket Club’s pride-and-joy new public grandstand.

Bannerman, 25, was one of seven in the Australian team born in Britain. He’d arrived with his family at Sydney’s Circular Quay as a toddler on the SS Maid of Judah and had loved cricket from an early age, working the scoreboard as a boy at the Domain ground before being coached by William Caffyn, one of the premier all-rounders in the world.1

Bannerman’s opening partner, the veteran Nat Thomson, was also a Brit, from Birmingham. He was the elder statesman of the team, just a month shy of his 39th birthday.

Despite their long and rocky sea voyage across the Strait – having also played some matches in New Zealand – the visiting bowlers Alfred Shaw, James Lillywhite, Allen Hill and the fastest of them all, the Yorkshireman George Ulyett, were unerringly accurate.

Yet in just over three hours of capital batsmanship, of a standard never seen before in the colonies, Bannerman accelerated to 126 not out. It was a remarkable, near-flawless display against a stellar attack. His driving was textbook, his footwork sparkling and his stroke selection varied. Fieldsmen were sent scampering to all parts of the ground. Later, the tourists graciously said they had never seen a finer exhibition.

Lillywhite and Co. had arrived from their rough Tasman crossing only a day before but bowled so accurately that they conceded only one ‘fourer’ in the first session of play, in the 12th over, to Tommy Horan, who was in at No. 3 after Thomson’s early demise.

Thirty overs – each of four balls – were delivered in under an hour. At lunch, Bannerman was 27. He’d rarely looked troubled even against the extra pace of Ulyett. Bannerman did not hit his first boundary until shortly before 2 p.m. when he was in his 30s. The Argus reporter noted, ‘The constancy with which the ball was sent along the turf showed that caution and accuracy were allied to enterprise.’2

After lunch, Bannerman remained cautious and took another 75 minutes to reach 50. Having reached his milestone to thunderous applause, he accelerated, unleashing a tremendous set of straight drives and quickly doubling his score to the growing excitement of the throng. His first 50 had taken 130 minutes; his second took just 30. The attendance was now in excess of 4500 – a huge crowd given the colonial population of just 200,000. Most were spellbound at Bannerman’s brilliance. It was his first 100 in major cricket and had come in a team score of 4-135. Each of his twelve 4s were received most favourably.

‘The people who stayed away yesterday … missed the grandest display of batting by a colonial player which has ever been seen in these colonies,’ said The Argus writer. ‘Grace himself could not have batted with more resolution and greater brilliance than Bannerman of Sydney did yesterday … he hit with decision, sharpness and vigour and ran up the high score of 126 in the short space of three hours.’3

The only half-chance he offered was to Shaw from the bowling of James Southerton when he had made 87. The daisy-cutter was almost past him before he reacted.

It was a rare domination not to be repeated in the next 140 years of Test cricket. Australia at the close was 6-166, made from 110 overs in 195 minutes.

On the second afternoon, Bannerman continued to play beautifully into the second session before, at 165, he was struck hard on his unguarded right hand by Ulyett. His hand was lacerated and he was forced to retire hurt. The score was 7-240. Shortly afterwards Australia was all out for 245, Bannerman having made almost 70 per cent of the runs. Teenager Tom Garrett was next highest scorer, with 18 not out.

Eleven of Bannerman’s eighteen 4s were struck between wide mid-off and wide mid-on, four forward of point, two in front of square leg and one to third man.

His scoring shots were: 1 1 2 1 2 2 2 3 2 2 3 3 1 1 1 3 2 4 1 2 3 3 1 1 4 3 4 4 4 2 4 4 1 1 1 1 1 4 1 1 4 4 4 1 1 4 1 1 2 1 2 1 3 1 2 1 1 1 1 3 1 1 1 4 1 4 1 1 1 3 4 1 4 2 4 2 4.

Writing in an English newspaper, Southerton said Bannerman had played in ‘as fine and free a style and manner as any innings was ever played at Home’.4

Bannerman’s biographer Alfred James ranked Bannerman’s 165 ‘among the top dozen [innings] ever played in Test cricket’.5

A new glittering colonial star had emerged, his name still indelible in Ashes lore.

A pound was collected for every one of Bannerman’s runs. Coupled with his match expenses of 20 pounds – the equivalent at the time of three months’ work – he had become a rich man. Later, he was to also umpire Test cricket. His 165 from Australia’s all-out score of 245 runs represented two-thirds of Australia’s runs scored – still a record for Tests.

Richie Benaud

Old Trafford, Manchester: 1 August 1961

Age: 30

Feat: In the most magical hour of his stellar career, Australia’s inspirational captain takes five wickets in 25 balls as Australia miraculously retains the Ashes

Throughout almost all of his celebrated captaincy reign Richie Benaud dared to be different. He had the King Midas touch, his inspired leadership reinvigorating Test cricket and returning Australia to world champion status after an uncharacteristic slump in the mid-’50s. Captain by chance,1 Benaud proved to be an instinctive leader with personality, warmth, vision – and a gambler’s good luck.

On tour, he instigated regular match-eve team dinners and press conferences, sharing information and spreading goodwill with travelling journalists so they were rarely short of a news story or an ‘angle’, even on non-match days. Fringe players were given every opportunity in county games. Benaud set attacking ‘Keith Carmody’ type fields,2 always looking to take full advantage of an early edge. Often they would be placed in a ‘U’ formation behind the bat with only a mid-on and a mid-off for initial front-of-the-wicket protection.

His stellar moments as cricket’s master leg-spinner had come from 1957 when he perfected his famed flipper, which skidded through low at pace, clouding judgements and triggering a spate of leg before wickets (lbws).

Having recaptured the Ashes in his first series as captain in 1958–59 – and taken 31 wickets in five Tests, the most ever by a captain – he was instrumental in the greatest Test series of the era in 1960–61, the fabled Calypso summer. But his finest moment was still to come in 1961, an Ashes tour where he was so plagued by shoulder problems that for weeks he could shave only with his left hand and was forced to stand down at Lord’s, the Test everyone loved to play.

Coming to the fourth Test at Old Trafford, the scoreline was 1-1 and the Manchester weather murky. It was a toss Benaud was dreading to win, but having called correctly, he elected to bat and the Australians, after a lengthy rain delay, collapsed for 190 and conceded a big lead. Thanks to a second-innings century from the find-of-the-tour Bill Lawry – a knock he rates as the most significant of his career – and a thrilling late-order stand between Alan Davidson and rookie Graham McKenzie, Australia was able to set England a decent fourth-innings target of 255 at 66 runs an hour. The match fortunes had seesawed yet again and in the rooms a pumped-up Davidson declared, ‘We’ll do these jokers, Rich.’3

Not everyone agreed. Test great Lindsay Hassett reckoned the odds on an Australia win were at least 6/1. He felt the best Benaud and Co. could hope for was a draw.4

England’s top-order included three of world cricket’s most-acclaimed in Ted Dexter, captain Peter May and Ken Barrington, plus the cool-and-calm Raman Subba Row, the steadiest of openers.

In an hour of superlative strokeplay, Dexter wrenched the initiative back from the Australians with a command performance, the most remembered hour-and-a-quarter of his career. He made 76 in all but even time, striking fourteen 4s and one 6. It was a magnificent knock.

Benaud had conceded 100 runs for the match without taking a wicket. But the Old Trafford wicket, especially the footmarks created early by Freddie Trueman, was becoming increasingly worn, favouring the spinners. Benaud had chatted pre-match with Test great Ray Lindwall about varying his tactics and exploiting the footmarks by coming around the wicket later in the game and deliberately aiming at the rough. It could create a wicket or two. It may also conserve some runs. Lindwall was wary. Fine for the left-handers, he said, but anything remotely loose against the right-handers could be costly.5

Thanks to Dexter’s extraordinary onslaught, a little more than 100 runs were required. The Australians were in freefall. In one of several mid-pitch meetings with Neil ‘Nin’ Harvey leading into the tea break, Benaud conceded Australia could no longer hope to force a draw. ‘We’ve had it as far as saving this, Nin,’ he said. ‘The only way we’ll get out of it is to win.’6

Hoping to pitch the ball in the bowler’s footmarks, Benaud went around the wicket, creating a different angle. Dexter responded by imperiously crunching two 4s through the off side at the speed of sound. He was like a runaway train: unstoppable. Thanks to an hour of Dexter brilliance, England was now committed to going for the win.

At the change of overs, Benaud told ’keeper Wally Grout that he had to somehow dismiss Dexter – or Australia could kiss the game goodbye. Dexter was on strike as Benaud continued. Again, he persisted with his around-the-wicket attack. He had a remarkable belief and optimism. After five consecutive ‘dot’ balls, Benaud delivered a top-spinner with some extra bounce. It was pitched a little shorter and, aiming an extravagant thrash through the off side, Dexter was caught off the top edge by a gleeful Grout. It was 3.45 p.m.

Enter Peter May, the leading batsman in the game, a strokemaker with infinite time, class and polish. England needed only 106 and had eight wickets in hand. May felt honour-bound to press on and maintain the run-rate. Benaud’s first ball, a leg-spinner, straight at leg stump and with hardly any spin, was easily defended. The second was pitched wider and May went for a sweep only to miss the ball and, in an instant, hear the dreaded click of ball hitting wicket. A Benaud yelp of joy confirmed May had been bowled directly out of the foot-holes. The ball had turned, big-time. May stood momentarily at the crease. ‘Sorry, mate,’ said Harvey at leg slip, ‘you’re out.’7

May was later to term his dismissal ‘ignominious’.8 Never could he recall being dismissed sweeping before. It was a shot he rarely, if ever, played.

The match fortunes were changing, markedly. Brian Close, in at No. 5 in his first Ashes Test in a decade, struck out wildly at his first ball and it splayed over short fine leg’s head for a fortunate two. It seemed he was trying to sweep everything, pitching full before he advanced at a wider one from Benaud and struck him straight back down the ground for a soaring six. The Old Trafford crowd was ecstatic. The target was now less than 100. Within minutes, however, another cross-the-line swipe landed in the hands of the reliable Norm O’Neill just backward of square leg.

In 25 deliveries, Benaud was to take five for 12. According to author Patrick Ferriday, even Shane Warne could not have done it better.9 By 5.40 p.m. – 20 minutes before the scheduled close – England was bowled out for 201, Davidson finishing the game by knocking back Brian Statham’s off stump. In a lifetime in the game, it remained the sweetest moment of all for Benaud. ‘For four and three-quarter days,’ said Alan Ross in The Observer, ‘England had asserted a basic all-round superiority. Yet within the space of an hour, the Ashes and the match was wantonly thrown away.’10

Under fire, Benaud had shown tremendous tactical acumen and courage to implement his plans. Before the age of Warne, leg-spinners rarely bowled from anywhere but over the wicket. ‘It was a tremendous win by Australia, a lasting tribute to Richie’s enterprise,’ said May.11

There had been continuing concerns about Benaud’s fitness entering the match, yet he had triumphed at the most critical time. The Ashes had been whisked from England’s grasp in half a session. It remains one of the most remarkable of all Ashes contests.

Afterwards, the Australians agreed it was among the most gripping Ashes Tests ever played. ‘Benaud’s captaincy was outstanding and his bowling absolutely courageous,’ said opening batsman and touring selector Colin McDonald.12 The final Test at The Oval was drawn, ensuring Australia won the series 2-1. The 1961 UK summer was the happiest of Benaud’s cricket career. On retirement in 1964, his 248 Test wickets was an Australian record, his wickets having come at an average of 3.5 per Test in Australia and 4.2 overseas.

Allan Border

Queen’s Park Oval, Port of Spain: 16, 17, 18 & 21 March 1984

Age: 28

Feat: Bats over 10 hours to save a retreating Australia from certain defeat in Trinidad

Test cricket’s finest two defensive solos, played back-to-back by the same man, delivered an unlikely Australian draw against overwhelming odds in the autumn of ’84.

On a Queen’s Park greentop, opposed to the might of Caribbean expresses Joel Garner, Malcolm Marshall and Wayne Daniel, Allan Border’s bravest 10 hours in cricket had even the West Indians applauding. It was a rare act of heroism on a moist wicket which jangled the nerves and saw many of his teammates in retreat.

In 634 minutes of focus and defiance, Border did not offer even a half-chance. He played the margins – nothing extravagant, but always offering the full face. ‘I batted as well as you can bat against that sort of bowling,’ said Border. ‘I would have loved to have actually won a match for Australia, but this was the next best thing.’1

The atmosphere was euphoric in the Australian rooms afterwards. It had been a miraculous escape, Border and No. 11 Terry Alderman defying the West Indians in a 105-minute last-wicket partnership late on the fifth and final afternoon.

With the retirements of the ‘Big Three’ – Greg Chappell, Dennis Lillee and Rod Marsh – combined with the absence of the injured Graham Yallop, the Australians had entered the series with a new-look XI. At the time, before India’s rise in the rankings, there was no tougher or more confronting challenge in world cricket than to defeat the West Indies in the Caribbean.

At Georgetown, where Steve B Smith debuted, the Australians only just escaped with a draw. At Port of Spain, with Smith an 11th-hour withdrawal, Dean Jones played for the first time, batting at No. 7 in the first innings and No. 8 in the second.

Sent in to bat on an unusually damp pitch – Trinidad is normally a spinner’s paradise – the fragility of Australia’s top-order was immediately highlighted as Garner continued his menacing form from the first Test in Guyana. He blasted out four of the Aussie top-order in his first dozen overs: Kepler Wessels (for 4), Wayne Phillips (4), Greg Ritchie (1) and captain Kim Hughes (24). Charging in with furious intent, he out-bowled even Malcolm Marshall. At one stage Australia was 3-16. It made a mockery of his demotion just months earlier from the Windies’ six-Test tour of India.

At 203 centimetres (six feet eight inches), Garner possessed the highest arm in cricket, which seemed to periscope way beyond the height of the sightscreens. He’d skittled Border early in the first Test and was confident of doing it again. From his great height and with his steepling bounce, he created awkward angles. No one had given the gritty left-hander more trouble in his early internationals.

At 11.56 a.m. Border marked his guard and Garner, head down, charged in, beginning a riveting contest within the contest which raged for days. ‘The track had moisture. It was murky and the ball was flying through. It was really challenging,’ Border said.

At lunch, Australia was 4-55 with Garner having all four, for just 19. Rain intervened, play not being possible again until the following day when a refreshed Garner resumed hostilities, making Border and first-gamer Jones duck and weave. Having hit four 4s in five balls from Marshall, David Hookes succumbed to Garner, giving him a fifth consecutive wicket. Jones’ first run in Test cricket came when a Garner bouncer zeroed straight at his throat. He only just got a glove to it before it ballooned halfway to the third-man boundary. It was a brute of a delivery. ‘Welcome to Test cricket,’ said a grinning Garner wrapping one of his telescopic arms around Jones.2

Despite feeling off-colour – he was dry-retching at one stage – Border was as calm as he could ever remember. ‘It was one of those days where it all worked. I was in that “zone” that people talk about. Where I was comfortable throughout, quite a few of the others were struggling.’

He found a willing ally in Jones, who dashed up and down the wicket like a Stawell Gift finalist. The pair shared a century stand, enjoying a brief respite when Viv Richards shared some of the bowling with Larry Gomes to give his main men a break. ‘AB told me if I could get through that innings,’ said Jones, ‘I’d never face a tougher one or faster bowling again in my whole career.’ His 48 promised much for the future.

Garner returned and Border, having made it to 98, was scoreless from the last 12 deliveries he faced, including a rip-roaring maiden from Garner which saw him beaten four times outside the off stump. On a fifth that Border almost played on, Border was ‘forced into a thrilling contortionist’s act to keep the ball away from his stumps’, said eyewitness, commentator and journalist Tony Cozier. ‘It was a stirring and dramatic encounter.’3

At the other end, Alderman fell in the slips, giving Garner a sixth wicket for the innings. Ex-Windies great Gerry Gomez described Border’s chanceless 310-minute display as one of the best he’d seen. He’d made split-second judgments on those balls he should fend; others he allowed to rear past his face and against the wider ones he played some shots. It had been the ultimate challenge of his career and he’d performed remarkably well. ‘It was as well as I ever batted,’ Border said, ‘especially given the attack, the conditions and the circumstances.’

With Jeff Dujon stroking his way to 130 with effortless majesty – including two hooked sixes off back-to-back bouncers from Rodney Hogg – the Windies led by more than 200 in the first innings.

Batting down a slot at No. 6 after Hughes used Tom Hogan as a nightwatchman, Border maintained Australia’s faint hopes of forcing a draw on the final morning.

Garner had again struck early the night before, trapping Wessels lbw in his first overs, before on the final day spending long periods resting in the rooms complaining of food poisoning. Approaching tea, still with two hours to play, Australia was 8-196 and heading, inevitably it seemed, to a crushing defeat.

The Windies were disadvantaged with Garner’s frequent absences. He was to bowl only eight overs all day. Daniel was also ill and unable to operate with his normal ferocity, but Marshall was still fast, as was newcomer Milton Small. Border’s concentration never wavered even against the part-time spinners. He was indestructible, simply refusing to surrender. He so successfully monitored the strike that Alderman, most overs, was facing only one or two balls, which he defended or allowed to pass through to ’keeper Jeff Dujon.

He’d come in with Australia leading by just 25. The wicket had settled and, according to Border, in the finish was reasonably benign, almost placid. ‘Terry could actually defend okay and with the wicket nice and flat, he did a very good job,’ he said. ‘In the end, they didn’t have access to their best available attack but we still had to get through the second new ball [from Marshall and Small].’

Reviving memories of the stoic Ken Mackay–Lindsay Kline match-saving stand in Adelaide in 1960–61, the two Australians held on. And with just four overs left in the match, Border drove a straight boundary to reach three figures. Richards immediately walked across and shook his hand, conceding the draw, with Australia almost 90 ahead and only minutes to play. Border (100 not out) and Alderman (21) had negotiated 83 deliveries and added 61. Dujon warmly congratulated Border, saying he’d richly deserved a century in the first innings and it was wonderful he’d made one in the second. Marshall also shook his hand and later said Border personified ‘all that is best about the Aussie cricketer of old. He is an outstanding batsman and a player we all respect and admire. By contrast the vast majority of his teammates showed no inclination for the fight which they knew they would require against us … they [the Australians] were a big disappointment.’4

Alderman’s previous highest score in 18 Tests was just 12. Trinidadians stood and applauded generously as the pair left the arena to join their teammates, several of whom had earlier been packing their bags before stopping and watching with increasing anticipation, counting off the overs. ‘It was very moving [coming off],’ said Border. ‘West Indians are fiercely parochial and regard the other team as villains. Yet here they were greeting us like hometown heroes.’5

It was the second epic display from Border in 72 hours. He’d made 198 runs from 535 balls – without being dismissed. It was to remain his finest match-saving solo in a stellar career, which was only just beginning.

‘But for his finger in the dyke,’ said author Jack Bannister, ‘the Garner-led demolition squad would have swept Australia out of the game … survival was an achievement, irrespective of runs scored.’6

If cricket gave Oscars for outstanding performance, one would have been awarded to Border for Finest Innings and another to Alderman for Best Supporting Role. Tony Cozier described Australia’s gallant draw as ‘unforgettable’ and Border’s contributions as ‘heroic’.7 Border’s strategy all series revolved around crease occupation and wearying the West Indian bowlers. ‘It’s a war of attrition,’ Australian cricket’s long-time Man of Steel said. ‘All you can do is tough it out with them. A lot of players try to fight fire with fire. I tried to wait for them and score off the bad balls.’8 He averaged 74. Border’s celebrated career saw him appear in 156 Tests, 60 per cent as captain. He played more than 1000 days of international cricket. The best player each Australian summer receives the Allan Border Medal.