No More Putch Repaughts

Breaking news often gives us pause to stop and think how lucky we are or how devastating a moment in time can be but usually its something that affects the other bloke. As pictures flash on the screen and a sombre news reader delivers his lines, we are supposed to tut-tut and repeat the information in yells to others in the house at distance from the screen.

I missed the breaking news yesterday - too busy celebrating life on my wife's 53rd birthday - so it wasn't until I fired up the box after a late afternoon watering of the garden that I heard the news. Mark Nicholas - a Pom with grand delusions and an irritating conservatism - was talking with the genteel wit and age wearied face that is still Richie Benaud. That their topic was the retelling of tales of Tony Greig was enough to convey the news without the words being spat out.

It was news big enough to be the lead story in every online cricket site in the world and big enough to front page the Sydney Morning Herald, the Age, London's Daily Telegraph and The Times. Prime Ministers, former Prime Ministers, Premiers and former players all rushed to applaud his life. Sir Ian Botham was quoted as being "very sad and emotional at this news." Not unsurprisingly, Australia's Channel Nine reacted swiftly to recognised Greig's achievements with the smaltzy Nicholas anchoring a desk which included Benaud and other former captains, Ian Chappell and Mark Taylor, all commentary contempories. Anyone Channel Nine could grab for comment had been quickly and times tastelessly cobbled together for the presentation. Thommo was as simple and moronic as his fearsome bowling, Ian Healy talked himself into his usual circles and John Howard was at his sycophantic worst.The only interview with resonance was an emotional Bill Lawry, who like Greig, has always worn his heart on his public sleeves and wavered between quavering voice and laughter when recalling the mate who referred to him, in his rich Sarth Efrikan accent, as "Bull". It was from Lawry's reaction we glimpsed the real Tony Greig.

If you had arrived from Mars and just prior to trying to workout where the Australia leaders were that you wanted to be taken to and you heard the news and sought reasons for the public reaction to Greig's death, then facts and figures might leave you wondering.

Tony Greig played Test cricket for just five years - short even for the seventies when a decent player was on the scene for twice that time. He could bat, he could bowl and he had good hands in the field but he did none of those things consistently to a standard that amazed, even then. His eight Test centuries and average of forty were disappointing for a man of his talent and 141 wickets at 32 hardly better. Yet, it was his character that created interest in him and gained him the confidence of the English selectors in raising him to the captaincy at a time when Australia and the West Indies were handing out hidings to everyone.

In modern parlance, Tony Greig was always, always in your face. He was both inquisitive and aggressive, never content to accept the status quo and always ready to challenge. His greatest achievement with the bat came at the start of a series blokes of my vintage remember with great zeal. "Ashes to Ashes, dust to dust. If Thommo don't get yer, Lillee must!" In a fast bowling flogging which broke ribs and spirits of the men with three lions on chest and cap providing a target, Greig's defiant first Test hundred was the mark of the man, blazing away with strokes to all parts in the face of the fastest, most dangerous attack since Bodyline. Thommo's second innings sandshoe crusher was the reply.

Watching the SCG Test which regained the Ashes during that series, I retain a strong memory of looking across to the English dressing room from the then brand new Bradman stand and seeing the batting pads standing against the visitors dressing rooms. Of the sets in waiting, perhaps freshly cleaned, one set stood out. Looking like the detached shin bones of someone who could only call out "Fee, fie, foe, fum. I smell the blood of Austra-liuns", Tony Greig's pads were the Titanic compared to its lifeboats.

They say Australians loved to hate Greig but they also admired him, for he did what Botham would later do. He played the game hard, without quarter, the way Australia and South Africa has always done best. The way Jardine did but Greig did it with a cheeky smile and wry humour and always reminding you of any wavering in your argument. He learnt to "take the piss" better than most of us do and after play, he always wanted to have a chat and few quiet beers.

In many regards, he was Ian Chappell's equivalent in the English ranks. He said what he thought and then smiled at the reaction it created. Therefore, with the respect of his players and the confidence of those old generals at Lords, his future was assured. In 1976/77, after becoming the first England captain to win a series in India for 43 years and the only one to win three consecutive Tests in India, he bought his side to Australia for the Centenary Test which they lost by a narrow margin in an epic match. His ego matched against the brash youngster David Hookes resulted in one of the most memorable few minutes of that game.

Months later, news surfaced in Blighty of Greig's role in the signing of English players for a private competition to be funded and organised by Australia media giant Kerry Packer. Lords reacted swiftly and stripped him from the captaincy and he contributed only as a player in the successful English team lead by Mike Brearley against an understaffed and bewildered Australia team, racked with stares and whispers. Sir Ian Botham's statement in mourning overnight was as inaccurate as ever - Greig was not his first England captain, not even in ODI cricket, where Alan Knott wore the (c) in Botham's first game. Lager Lies I guess.

These would be Greig's last Tests, as standing by his commitment to Packer and the new deal it offered players was his style. If ever there was a man in public life who believed in "your word is your bond", it was Tony Greig. It was what endeared him to Packer - a man of fierce loyalties who could intimidate and swear down any roomful of wharfies but never forgot loyalty. On the Australian side of the equation, Ian Chappell fell between the same guidelines and it was on these two on field generals and the ebullient cricket skills of the West Indians that Packer's marketing skills set their foundations and hence the success of the venture.

Cricket got better standards, players got better money and Packer got his TV rights.

Greig never played Test cricket again but Packer set him up for life, with a commentary and advisory role in the television coverage that would bring world leading technology to Australian lounge rooms and change the way the game is played. Video replays, ultra slow motion, ball tracking, side on cameras for run outs, onscreen stats drawn up at an instant on the whim of a commentator ... these were all pioneered and mostly perfected on the Channel Nine coverage. Spidercam is the latest example of this thirst for best practice.

There are many other legendary stories of Greig since those World Series days: stories of losing car keys down cracks in pitches, technology malfunctions and the outrageously funny parodies of his accent and arrogance that have surfaced in places as diverse as your club's presentation night and Billy Birmingham's recordings. There has also been the generous manner in which he gave his time to the sub-continent, being one of the first non-Asian sportsmen to go to India and Pakistan and lend humanitarian causes his celebrity but at ground level, in among the poor, the homeless, the sick and the dying. He is adored in Sri Lanka for his contribution to cricket there.

In Australia, no less than Michael Clarke considered him one of the mentors which guided his career and in his chosen career path, he was larger than the largest elements of life on the commentary team. On a day when the commentary team dressed up as their favourite cricketer, he dressed up as a parody of himself. His knowledge of the game and his keen observation were often dwarfed by his outspokenness but he was usually the first to notice trends and changes in a game and always loved to highlight when the game got a little willing.

When sad news breaks, its often the personal connections that drive home the hardest. An experience which is yours is so much more powerful because it becomes your part of the loss.

In early 1975, only a few months after completing high school in the heart of the Sutherland Shire in Sydney's south, I was invited by the sports master to attend the opening of a set of nets at the school. Port Hacking High had never had cricket nets before. It was a development I had lent my voice to as the First XI captain but one that had been the fervent desire of the rather oddly intense History teacher who was our cricket coach. Uni was yet to start, so I was glad to attend.

When I arrived, a net session was underway, intended to put practical use to the nets before official words sealed the event. Batting in full whites against spotty boys from Year 9 and 10 was John Dyson, only half a season away from his first NSW selection and although Kogarah born, a hero of the Shire. He kept goals for Sutherland but more importantly, had formed a reliable and profitable opening partnership for the Sutherland grade club with another age contemporary, Andrew Hilditch. Its hard to look good against spotty boys but Dyson did. He was the local celebrity.

It was then that I noticed Tony Greig. It was hard not to. Even standing beside the man mountain that was the school principal, Greig was a tall oak with long limbs. He was in a suit that must have severely depleted the tailor's bolts and a bright pink shirt. A fellow from the local rag buzzed about, taking snaps of him holding his England cap and shaking hands with the Principal. Only weeks earlier, England won back some respect in Melbourne after being blasted all series, when Australia could only offer Walker, Dymock and Mallet as bowlers. Greig had made 89 and taken four second innings wickets in the win.

The cricket coach invited me to have a net and without gear and my trusty Gray Nichols, I would normally have declined but AW Greig was tossing a ball from hand to hand and talking with the net bowlers, so I quickly borrowed gear and plastered it over my street clothes. The chance to face him came soon after and a short ball was cracked into the netting but in my mind, past point for four. He smiled, brushed blond hair through his fingers and went back a little further as I had my way with a few more spotty boys. The next was fuller and showing no respect, I lofted the next England captain onto the middle of the oval.

"I had a man back there," he said through a smirk. I've heard that many times at net sessions but never from such a height.

He talked that day, in the presentation that followed, of dedication and resilience and courage and never giving up no matter who stood in your way but the words I remember most were his urging to stay true to yourself. I have no idea how the school secured his attendance but I know why he was there. I was introduced to him after plaques were unveiled and asked him why he had come. After all, it was just some concrete strips and wire netting at a high school in the suburbs. "Its my job," he said, "to encourage the next generation, even if they are Australians. If I don't, I'll fail to justify the privilege I have been given."

These were tall words from a tall man and it took me years to understand them but I'm grateful he gave them too me. What might have been no more than another exercise in star spotting that day among the acne afflicted, became so much more. My privilege is very different but it comes with no less responsibility.

Farewell AW Greig. I speak for no one but myself in thanking you so much more for the how, than the how many.