Glenn McGrath Line and Strength Read online

  ‘But there was a “but”. I really wanted to make it in cricket. There were times when it would’ve been easy just to give up; I mean, I didn’t even get a bowl! But I didn’t want to quit. I think that was the reason I wanted to speak to Brian. I just wanted to hear someone say to keep going.’

  McGrath couldn’t have sought out a more supportive person. Brian ‘Gamy’ Gainsford enjoyed widespread respect beyond the Western Districts because he was a hard-working delegate to the NSW Cricket Association who ensured bush players of all standards received support. His son David played first-grade for Manly in the Sydney grade cricket competition and his daughter Melinda was a champion 200-metre sprinter. Gainsford himself boasted a distinguished playing career and had been selected in the Western NSW Country XI that played the West Indies in 1975. While Gainsford didn’t get the opportunity to bat against Michael Holding, he did catch the Windies’ reserve wicketkeeper David Murray.

  At the time of his heart-to-heart with McGrath, despite being in his mid-forties Gainsford was still a prolific run-getter as an opener for Backwater in the Far West competition. As McGrath discussed his frustrations, Gainsford could see the 17-year-old genuinely wanted some direction, so he thought about why he loved cricket and used that to speak to the boy openly and from the heart.

  ‘Everyone knew Glenn was a talented basketballer,’ says Gainsford. ‘But he’d been lured to cricket by his mates and it was obvious to me he enjoyed the game. He started off by playing in the under-16s at our club, Backwater, and I knew him to be a good, quiet kid who was very respectful and very well mannered.

  ‘When we sat down, I talked to Glenn about the merits of cricket over basketball. I’d never played basketball, but I could tell him about the camaraderie players share on and off the cricket field. I told him that regardless of whether he played in the bush or went all the way to become an international cricketer, he’d make great friends – and I thought that was a worthwhile reward for doing something you loved.

  ‘While he bowled a bit erratic back then, Glenn was quick. It was also obvious, just by looking at him, he had all the requirements a fast bowler needed. All Glenn needed was time to develop, and I told him that. However, I also warned him that cricket was a sport where you could be on a high one day but be brought back to earth very quickly the next.’

  By the time the hour-long conversation had finished, McGrath had decided to retire his basketball singlet. He was committed to becoming a fast bowler and he wanted to do whatever was necessary to fulfil his dream to play for Australia.

  Yet try as he might, there was always a voice of treason that questioned his ability.

  ‘Shocking, absolutely shocking,’ recalled Mark Munro when asked about McGrath’s early days the night before his farewell Test. ‘Didn’t have a clue where a batsman was, let alone the stumps or a good length.’

  And yet, McGrath continued to believe he could bowl – every afternoon when he’d measure his run-up and launch delivery after delivery at the old drum.

  ‘It was just something I loved doing,’ he says. ‘As far back as I can remember, it didn’t matter whether I was playing in my grandparents’ back yard or watching the Aussie team play on television – they weren’t all that successful back then and did it tough – I wanted to play for Australia. It was just something I had a passion for. I’d watch the guys bowl on television and, while I never tried to copy any of them, I looked closely at what they did and it helped me develop my own style.’

  McGrath’s apparent lack of talent was a blessing in disguise: because his coaches didn’t have the time to waste on someone who was never going to be a strike bowler in their attack, it meant they didn’t tinker with his style.

  ‘It actually worked in my favour that no-one thought to coach me when I started out,’ he says. ‘So my bowling in the early days was all about fun, which is probably the way it should be. Through that approach, my body found its most natural way to bowl and I’m sure that is what allowed me to enjoy longevity. Later on, when I first worked with Dennis Lillee at the Academy, his priority was refinement and working with what I had rather than changing it. I had developed what he called a “sound action”, because my hips and shoulders were aligned and that was what I needed. I think even as a kid with no guidance I knew how to get the most out of myself.’

  Bush cricket was, as Gainsford had promised, a source of good friendships and great memories. McGrath has played in World Cup victories, Ashes triumphs and tense matches on the Subcontinent, but he always remembers his time in bush cricket with a smile. Like the time a team-mate was accused of not putting in when a hare-like sprint after the ball towards the boundary suddenly became an uncertain trot. The fielder was mercilessly bagged for not trying, even when McGrath and his mates saw that the ball had stopped next to a deadly brown snake. And the way walking out to bat at the Narromine Racecourse was like retracing the steps of the early explorers Burke and Wills.

  ‘The racecourse had a cricket field inside the track. To bat, you had to leave the stand, cross the racecourse and then make your way through knee-length grass just to make the outfield and then you’d make it out to the middle of the field,’ McGrath recalls. ‘The only other place that was nearly as tough to get out to was Lord’s, because you need to walk down two flights of stairs before an attendant swings open the door that leads to the famous Long Room.’

  After absorbing Gainsford’s words of wisdom, McGrath trained even harder and bowled longer sessions behind the machinery shed. The toil paid off when he was picked for the Narromine representative side after showing rapid improvement for the Rugby Union XI. McGrath’s selection in that team allowed Gainsford an insight into the depth of McGrath’s mental strength, a trait that in the years to come would astound his Aussie team-mates and international opponents.

  ‘I think ability is a 10 to 20 per cent requirement,’ says Gainsford of the ‘right stuff’ needed to make it in cricket. ‘You need 80 to 90 per cent mental strength. You need that mental strength – and if Glenn’s proved anything at all, he has proved that. He wasn’t overly aggressive, but my goodness he was determined. He came from a farming family and that life was certain to instil toughness into him, as it does any kid. When Glenn was given his shot, there was no way he was going to let it slip through his fingers.’

  But even when McGrath gained his representative spurs for the Narromine XI, doubts remained as to whether he would cut the mustard. In one game at Bourke he finished footsore and disappointed after an unrewarding day in the field. He then suffered a body blow when he was overlooked for the Country under-21s squad after he played in the annual Colts’ Carnival.

  ‘There were always question marks over whether he would make it,’ says Gainsford. ‘Glenn was different to Adam Gilchrist, in the sense that when I saw him play for the North Coast under-17s, I could tell Gilchrist was going to be a superstar cricketer. It was the same with Michael Slater – when he played for the Riverina team, it was obvious he had it. That instant recognition wasn’t the case with Glenn.

  ‘I’ve always believed you could tell within 12 months if a kid was going to make it, but I’ve also always been open-minded, to make sure people don’t get too carried away with a young player. Glenn achieved a lot through hard work, whereas there have been many players who were blessed with so much natural ability but they fell by the wayside for whatever reason. Glenn just kept working and there is a lesson in that for anyone.’

  In 2003 Gainsford stood on stage alongside twins Steve and Mark Waugh and Michael Bevan to receive his life membership from the NSW Cricket Association. It acknowledged over 40 years of blood, sweat and tears which Gainsford had given to help improve the game and foster young talent. When McGrath heard of Gainsford’s accolade, he spared a special thought for the old Backwater opener whose words of wisdom ‘pumped up his tyres’ at a time when he needed it.

  ‘A lot of people helped me make it in cricket,’ he says. ‘However, Brian will never be able to understand how
much his conversation meant to me. He was not only generous with his time – because it had been a long day for everyone in the sun – but he gave me encouragement when I needed it. And just as importantly, he gave me a bit of hope.’

  Gainsford describes the role he played in the rise and rise of Glenn McGrath as brief but humbling. However, he says it reinforces the power of words and the importance of giving someone – even a kid who couldn’t get a bowl – some time and advice.

  ‘I have to say, not for a minute did I finish our chat and think it would have an impact on his life, because it was basically about the enjoyment of playing cricket and I’ll talk to anyone about that,’ Gainsford says. ‘But it obviously struck a chord with Glenn.’

  7

  Dougie’s Tormentor

  I vividly recall it. Everyone was lined up in the dressing-room trying to sign him up – Greg Matthews, Doug Walters and, I think, Steve Rixon.

  Dubbo guest captain and former

  Australian all-rounder Greg Matthews

  In October 1988, seven years after Doug Walters had retired from top-class cricket, he was back at the crease batting for the Parkes representative XI in their annual grudge match against Dubbo. A tall, reed-thin fast bowler with the same haircut Walters had sported during his days as a National Serviceman in the 1960s tormented him with a constant nagging line and length, making it a tough grind to overhaul Dubbo’s 218. As Walters played and missed – again – a bunch of children added to his frustration as the ball thudded into the wicketkeeper’s gloves by yelling ‘C’mon, Reidy!’ – acknowledging that his torturer bore a resemblance to the Test bowler Bruce Reid.

  Walters was going on 43, and while the old eyes weren’t as sharp as they’d been in the 1974/75 Ashes series (when he’d brought up his hundred by hooking for six the last ball of the day from Bob Willis), they could spot talent – even under the dodgy floodlights that left dark patches of shadow over Parkes’ Pioneer Oval. As the veteran of 74 Test matches faced up for the next delivery, he wondered why no-one had uttered a word about this lanky kid the previous night at the Coachman’s Hotel, where he’d spent hours autographing beer-stained coasters and shaking hands with old fans and new friends at the official pre-match function. Walters had heard everything he could possibly need to know about the pride of Parkes playing under him: Graeme Tanswell, Alan Day and Ken Keith. It had even been pointed out to him that Dubbo’s Stuart Border was related to the Test captain Allan Border. But for the life of him, Walters couldn’t remember a single damn word – of warning or otherwise – about McGrath.

  Walters was back in the firing line as the face of the Toohey’s Country Cup Challenge, a competition started in 1977 by former Test skipper Bob Simpson. The aim of the contest was to send members of the NSW Sheffield Shield squad out bush to play alongside country cricketers in a series of inter-district representative games. Simpson hoped the initiative would help to reinvigorate the game in areas neglected by the game’s administrators, and also that it might unearth a few gems, like the McGrath boy from Narromine.

  The Dubbo side was bolstered for that October night’s battle by the inclusion of Steve Smith, Greg Matthews and Mark Taylor, while Parkes boasted Walters, Mark Waugh and Graham Smith. McGrath’s shyness ensured that he was seen and not heard as he sat in the dressing-room alongside the big shots, but he absorbed everything he could when they spoke cricket.

  ‘It didn’t matter to me when we were out on the field playing that I was up against first-class cricketers, or that Dougie had played for Australia,’ he says. ‘I just loved bowling, and it was a great challenge. But I was a little bit in awe of them while we sat in the rooms before the game. I didn’t say much – I was just enjoying it, and I listened to everything they said. In terms of playing that day, I didn’t put extra pressure on myself. I never worried about how I was going to go in a game – I was more concerned with what I hoped to achieve in the game.’

  When Matthews tossed McGrath the ball to begin his spell, he could see Dubbo’s first-change bowler was dead keen to prove himself against elite company. However, it was no secret that Walters’ best days were long gone, and Matthews urged McGrath to show ‘the great Dougie’ the respect to which he was entitled. McGrath was surprised – Matthews’ reverence for the old warrior seemed to contradict his reputation as a party boy with a penchant for rattling the cage of his conservative sport. At the peak of his career Matthews was considered the hippest cricketer about, with his super-cool lingo and daring earring. His image ensured he gained a cult following – but it didn’t endear him to the starched-collared members of the Australian Cricket Board, who branded him a maverick.

  Although Matthews didn’t want to see Walters’ hard-earned reputation tarnished by a young punk with a point to prove, he need not have wasted his breath on McGrath. While McGrath certainly wanted Walters’ scalp – and Waugh’s and Smith’s, for that matter – his plan was to bowl a tight line and length. He was well aware of Dougie’s place in folklore: that he’d smashed 250 against the Kiwis; that three of his 15 Test centuries were scored within a session; that he’d amassed 5357 runs against his nation’s foes at an average of 48.26 and had taken 49 wickets as a bowler. It was a career to be proud of and McGrath had no intention of taking any cheap shots. He was also mindful that Doug was his mother’s favourite cricketer and she probably wouldn’t appreciate watching him ducking and weaving against short-pitched deliveries from her son.

  ‘Greg talked about it being an honour for me to bowl at someone of his standing, and that was all fine,’ says McGrath of Matthews’ direction. ‘I had no intention of bouncing Doug because I respected everything he’d achieved. I was more interested in seeing how I went bowling a good length at him – and, while I didn’t dismiss him, I was pretty happy with how I went. I’d played some representative cricket in the 12 months leading up to that game – for Narromine, Far West and Western Districts – but it was exciting to get picked to play for Dubbo. I saw it as a vote of confidence, a sign I was doing the right things. A talent scout from the Penrith grade club had apparently been sent out to watch me play in a game before the Toohey’s Cup match – I knew nothing about it – but I guess the long drive must’ve seemed like a great waste of time to him because I didn’t receive a phone call. He probably marked me down as just another bush player.’

  As his eyes focused on the 18-year-old running in to bowl again, Walters might have wondered how that talent scout could have kept his title. The ball rocketed off the pitch much quicker than he had anticipated; the speed and sudden bounce forced him to cramp up and he popped up a catch, but it was too hot for the fielder at gully to handle.

  Wiping the beads of sweat from his forehead, Walters shrugged his shoulders and grinned to himself. This McGrath kid was the reason many of his old Test team-mates refused to play in exhibition games. They didn’t fancy being the prey for young turks desperate to make a name at their expense by removing either their middle stump – or their head.

  But ego was never a problem for Walters. He’d done more than enough at the top level to feel the need to prove himself to anyone. His aim as the face of the Toohey’s Country Cup Carnival – at the crease or at the bar afterwards – was to entertain the locals who’d paid their three bucks to watch the limited-overs action.

  ‘I had finished my career long ago,’ says Walters of playing in the scrub. ‘The young blokes thought it was nice to get me out, but that never worried me too much. I was a country boy myself, so I knew how important things like the Toohey’s Cup are to the bush, and I was happy to play and to participate. My view on that sort of thing remains the same as it was then: the more we do to help the talent out in the bush – and there’s plenty of it – the better it is for everyone.’

  Indeed, Walters had himself benefited from such a spirit in 1962, when at the age of 16 he represented Maitland against the legendary Jack Chegwyn XI, a cavalier team that consisted of state players and top Sydney first-graders who made annual tours to the
bush. Young Doug didn’t miss his chance to shine, smashing an unbeaten 51 and bagging four wickets. On the strength of that performance he was picked for the NSW Colts, where he scored 140. A few weeks later, having turned 17, he was at the SCG representing NSW against a Queensland attack that contained the great West Indies pace ace Wes Hall. He scored 1 in the first dig and a half-century in the second, and he never looked back. Now it was his turn to put something back, and he was happy to see a farmer’s son step up to the plate in Parkes that night.

  McGrath was the player who excited those in the 2000-strong crowd who really knew the game.

  ‘Glenn McGrath bowled very well that night,’ recalls Matthews two decades later. ‘I remember it well. He wanted to get in there and stick it to ’em ... but he was also cool and controlled. What I noticed about Glenn early on – and it was to become his greatness – you only had to tell him something once. I liked him the first time I saw him – he’s a beautiful man. He owns that man in the mirror. A very special dude.’

  Mark Taylor, who learned his cricket in Wagga Wagga – a country town near the Victorian border, home to many elite athletes including cricket’s Michael Slater and Geoff Lawson and the famous rugby league Mortimer family – says one of the joys of playing in competitions like the Country Cup was unearthing the occasional rough diamond like McGrath.

  ‘Some blokes stood out and Glenn was one of them,’ says Taylor. ‘He was a tall, lanky guy for a start – a beanpole of a kid, actually. He had good bounce and pace, and while you’d never have imagined he’d one day take 500 Test wickets, I wondered how he’d go in Sydney. I’m glad he came down.’