2 years ago
With perspiration pouring from his forehead and a shirt lathered in deodorant and sweat, he walks off the ground, bat in hand and with a face more tanned than Julio Iglesias. One would expect a man with clothes this wet to have just scored 150 in Madras in 40-degree heat. But no, its pre-season at NSW cricket, mid-winter and the man is Steve Stumpa Rixon, the COACH.
Stumpa is the only person I have ever met that could sweat in the shower. A product of his commitment to practice as both a player and a coach. In my opinion, the greatest coach I ever played under. Direct, focused, well planned and a panache for finding key moments in any match and rallying the troops to execute on said opportunity.
I will never forget the day he pulled me aside as a senior player and asked me to room with Rodney ‘Horse’ Davidson’. Horse was a talented left-hander with interesting social skills. Stumpa thought I could bring the best out of him and the team would be rewarded as Horse continued to pile on the runs. The combination had immediate success as he started to make runs consistently, the only issue being is I found my new roommate using my toothbrush one morning. “For .... sake Horse, that’s my toothbrush.” “Sorry mate, I forgot mine,” Horse said.
“Stumpa, I can’t do this mate,” Stumpa replied with his typical laugh followed by a deadpan response. “I'll buy you a new one, we need his runs!”
That evening we had a team dinner. Rodney ‘Horse’ Davidson settled right next to Stumpa at the head of the table with a smile from ear to ear and his clean fangs shining. Those who have dined with Stumpa know he will not start his meal until everyone has received theirs. I have seen him wait for half an hour on one occasion. Even when asked to start by others, he will refuse. As Murphy’s law would suggest, Stumpa’s meal arrived that night before the rest of the team. He sat patiently and only occasionally looking down lovingly at his 400g ribeye on the bone, chips and pepper sauce. To my amazement, my little left-hander ‘Protege of Etiquette’ Rodney started to steal a few chips from Stumpa's plate while waiting for his meal to arrive.
After the third chip was about to be removed, Stumpa picked up his fork and stabbed our opening bat in the back of his hand. “Ouch,” Horse screamed as his hand quickly moved off Stumpa’s plate. “Don’t touch my food” our coach said with sweat starting to bead on his furrowed brow.
Come on Stumpa I’ll buy you some new chips. We need his runs!
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2 years ago
Brabourne Stadium, Bombay, 18th Dec 1967. My cousin invited me to see the last day of the Test Match - India v/s West Indies. Over 35,000 people. Electric atmosphere. I was mesmerised. HOOKED. Hopelessly. It was Clive Lloyd's Test debut. I also got to see Gary Sobers, Basil Butcher, Seymour Nurse, Wes Hall. The Indian team also had some great stars: Chandrasekhar, Ajit Wadekar, Chandu Borde, Salim Durrani, M.L. Jaisimha. I had hardly played some street cricket before then, but after that I did not stop playing for over 45 years in India, England, Australia and have watched Tests in another 4 countries.
I am NOT a tragic. I am a VICTIM of cricket.
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2 years ago
Wesley College in Perth is a lovely school, with great facilities.
In March 1992 I was manager of the NSW team to play WA in the Sheffield Shield Final. The trip was 10 days and the game was one of the best games ever played at the W.A.C.A. The fortunes of both teams flowed until finally the home team won the shield.
Soon after our arrival in Perth, we received a visit from a former Blues player, John Rogers, who was a teacher at Wesley College and a good friend. John offered the NSW team the use of the school’s ground and net facilities.
The team arrived at the school and we were shown the change rooms. As I walked into the room I saw a familiar face,eadmaster, Rod Keffotrd, whom I had known when he was teaching at Barker College in Sydney. We greeted each other, I thanked his for his hospitality and asked if we could reciprocate in any way.
“Well, we have a school assembly in half an hour, which Geoff Lawson has consented to address and I was hoping you would be able to attend yourself and, if possible, arrange for a couple of other players to join you, “Rod responded.
Like all good headmasters, Kefford never misses out on a chance to obtain a “quid pro quo”.
Half an hour later, “Henry” Lawson, the brothers Waugh, Mike Whitney and myself walked up onto the stage at the Wesley College school assembly. Lawson addressed the boys in his usual thoughtful and eloquent manner, the boys loved it.
When the assembly finished, Rod Kefford and John Rogers took us on a guided tour of the school. We walked around and then, by popular request, we ended our sojourn in one of the school bathrooms.
“Well, what do you think of Wesley?” asked Rod Kefford.
“It is a most impressive school Rod, you must be very proud, “I said. Three of the others endorsed my sentiments.
“Well, I don’t think much of it!”
Everyone turned to look at Mike Whitney.
“I beg your pardon?” said Kefford.
“It’s nothing like my old school, South Sydney Boy’s High,” replied Whitney.
I remember exchanging glances with Steve Waugh; this attitude was so out of character for Whit, who could lay claim to being Australia sport’s nicest man.
“No, this is not a real school – not like South Sydney Boys,” Whit reiterated.
Kelford asked, “Why is that?”
Whitney began to laugh. “Call yourselves a school, what a load of crap. Just look at this bathroom – there is no graffiti on the walls and not one cigarette but in the urinals.”
Then Whit winked at Rod, slapped him on the shoulder and walked out to practice
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2 years ago
I’ve witnessed loads of great knocks, and often it’s not the number of runs, it’s the context of the innings.
In 1997 we were playing the last round of league games and we were top of the league, just 2 points ahead of our archrivals, Sandiacre. They had a relatively easy last game, but we had to go to Radcliffe on Trent. A tough track to bat on, made more difficult by the fact their overseas player for that season was Barrington Browne who was in and around the West Indies ODI squad at the time.
It was mid-September and conditions were Autumnal and the pitch was green. We won the toss and contained them to just 176/6 (sorry, 6 for 176) and we went into our innings with the league title in our hands.
Our innings started well but then in poor light, and with Barrington getting a head of steam, we lost 4 quick wickets.
Around this collapse, Sandiacre (who had brushed aside their opposition to gain maximum points) turned up and were very cock sure, thinking we’d blown it.
Enter Neil Fenwick and Brett Scothern in our middle order. They went into a different zone and made a fantastic 100 run partnership in the toughest of conditions against some great bowling. Brett finished on 52 not out and Fenners 55 not out. They pulled, hooked and cut the Windies superstar to all parts!
In the context of the game, what it meant, the quality of the bowling and the challenging conditions – those two share my best innings award. Happy memories!
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2 years ago
As a young kid, I heard my dad share a lot of stories about his cricket career and he loved nothing more than stories of the great Keith Miller.
You see dad was Ron Briggs and he was fortunate to play 15 first-class games for NSW in the 1950s under the leadership of Miller.
It wasn’t until I was older that I appreciated his Miller stories.
In dad’s first game for NSW under Miller leadership, Jimmy Burke said, “whatever you do, don’t ask Miller where to field.” Dad asked him “why?” Burke replied, “just don’t, pick somewhere and go there.” To dads amazement with no field placings from the skipper he just kept picking positions in the field of his judgement through day.
It wasn’t long before Miller found out about dads love of the horses and a punt so he ended up next to Miller in the slips with Miller at first and dad at second with Miller talking about all sorts of things particularly the horse racing game but there was never any chat regarding the cricket match. He would make bowling changes and he would only bowl if he was in the mood.
As I working my way through the Grades at Northern District in Sydney I was fortunate to be selected for the Australian Under 19s tour of Pakistan.
The team gathered at the Travelodge in Rushcutters Bay in February 1981 for a couple of days to get to know our fellow squad members before flying out to Karachi.
The day before leaving we had a net session at the SCG followed by a function in the City and were told our special guest for the night was Keith Miller.
I couldn’t believe it. I rang dad as soon as we got back to the Hotel.
We filed in looking flash in our blazers and ties and Miller was sitting on a corner of a table and we were introduced one by one to the great man.
When it came to my turn, he looked at me “Briggs, Briggs”, I replied “yes, I’m Ron Briggs’s son” in which he replied, “well bugger me!!”
As the night went on, I heard from the other side of the room the booming voice of Miller, “Briggsy, get over here I’ve got a few stories about your old man I want to tell you.”
This bloke didn’t know me from a bar of soap but now we’re having a drink together like we were best mates with Miller sharing stories about my dad from those great years where I think they won the Sheffield Shield just about every year throughout the 1950s.
What a night it was, something I’ve cherished and never forgotten. I’d like to add that boarding the plane the next morning for Pakistan, I wasn’t in a good state if you know what I mean.
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2 years ago
I played a game for the SCG XI at the SCG a few years ago against the Honk Kong Cricket Club and they had this opening bowler who played County cricket and apparently bowled 140km/hr. Stuart Clark was captaining us that game and got out LBW to him on the last ball of one of his overs, then he skittled our next batsman first ball of his next over.
So, I found myself trudging out onto the SCG to face the hat trick ball. Russell Grimson was at the other end and said to me ‘play forward, he will pitch it up’. Well, Russell was right, it was pitched up, but it was through me before I got a chance to get forward, quickest ball I have ever faced by far, wrapping my back pad on the knee roll. Arthur Watson was umpiring and gave me not out. Not sure what part of middle stump it would have been missing. Maybe Arthur is a bit if a sadist and just wanted to watch me face the rest of that over, which I did, somehow. I actually really enjoyed the challenge.
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2 years ago
Last, Friday, I attended the Cricket Victoria Premier Cricket Awards night at the MCG, representing Prahran Cricket Club.
It was a wonderful occasion to reflect on an amazing 2022/23 season and soak in the camaraderie with other club administrators, players, media persons, managers, and board members from across the premier cricket ecosystem. A plethora of awards were given away with the winners exemplifying cricketing values and serving as inspiring role models for the others in the room.
My club won two awards - the Women's competition Spirit of Cricket and the Women's Under-18 Player of the Tournament. Looking back at the men's competition, we came agonisingly short of the Club Championship, finishing second after the last home & away game, and four premiership flags after falling short in the finals. Cricket reinforced the importance of going the extra mile with these results and we start all over again come summer 2023/24.
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2 years ago
I was playing for Hawkesbury v Penrith (1st grade 1986/87), Rod Bower had smacked us around all day, and was on 200, and looking to move past the current club record score of 202. At this stage we had been fielding for 4 sessions and were cooked, so the captain brought on Barry Coad to bowl his useful left arm wrist spin. The field was spread far and wide, then Barry bowling his third delivery had Rod coming down the wicket and hitting a hard on drive in the air to deep long on. Rod had hit it hard, and quite straight, so the fielder had to run quite a distance to his left to get anywhere near it. As the ball got closer to the fence (in the air still), the fielder thought they were closer than they thought, so they should put in and then gave it a big soccer goalie dive. To everyone’s amazement, the ball lodged in the right inverted hand of the fielder, one inch off the ground, and Rod was caught for 200.
As Rod walked past the fielder, he was heard to say, “how the #@%$ did you catch that?”, to which the fielder said “#@%$ed if I know”.
Rod and I have never spoken about it since.
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