Farewell Richard Ponting

The forthcoming retirement of the great Richard Ponting makes one remember the departures of the legends of my era, men like Ronald Oxenham, Albert Ernst Victor Hartkopf, Pud Thurlow, Affie Harwood Jarvis and his bitter enemy, Black Jack Blackham the Prince of Wicketkeepers. All great men and great servants to the game and I will be thinking of all of them as I watch Richard take guard for the final time.

Of those legends of days gone by, Blackham was, in many respects the most like Ponting. A magnificent fielder and a captain of a surprisingly nervous disposition, he led Australia to many crushing defeats against the old enemy, giving Ponting the inspiration to do the same many years later. He was also one of the last great cricketers to sport a thick bushranger beard throughout his career, a legacy from his early work as a bank clerk, where beardedness was seen as a private reassurance to customers in those straightened financial times. I had hoped Ponting was going to revive this lost art of grooming when he debuted in Perth with a carefully cultivated goatee beard, a promising start indeed, but over the years the bristles faded from view. A tragedy and probably the only disappointing aspect of Ponting’s legacy.

Another of my favourite cricketers of the days of yore is, of course, Ted a'Beckett. a’Beckett, like me was both a celebrated all-round sportsman and a man of the law. Ted certainly had my measure inside the pickets (although I troubled him more than a few times with my delicately flighted googlies), but on the boards of the district court I towelled him up so often he once told me he’d rather be facing that moustachioed demon Fred Spofforth than copping another Whitelocke broadside before a disapproving judiciary. That was all part of the game back then, soften them up with ad hominem verbal short balls then york them with some obscure and persuasive inswinging Canadian jurisprudence. Great memories!!

But memories, like those cricketing legends past, have faded into the pages of Wisden and soon will the deeds of the great R.T. Ponting. Farewell Richard, to me you will always be that incredible wunderkind, blessed with footwork and a hunger I have not seen in a Tasmanian since Alexander Pearce.

How I Modernised Cricket

The incredible hype surrounding Australia’s Test Match against Pakistan at Lords this week (largely, I imagine, the result of the continued and rightful selection of prodigious run machine Marcus North) has reminded me of my own role in shaping the modern game of cricket.

While the actions of my old sparring partner Kerry Packer in establishing World Series Cricket to grab the television rights for his Nine Network at the expense of the Australian Broadcasting Corporation is the stuff of legend, my involvement in the game's tumult in the late 1970’s is not widely known.

Although it is a notorious fact that I am an authority on the game* many people do not realise that I acted for my close friends Allen Stanford and Ted Turner, who formed a rival consortium, Power Cricket America (PCA), which tried to sign the very same players to play in the “Pan-American Power Cricket League”. This would have given Turner’s CNN global rights to cricket and made me the most powerful man in the game, to the extent I wasn't already.

Unfortunately, Packer’s consortium, recognising the imminent threat of Turner, Stanford and myself, quickly signed almost every high profile international player of the day, including such luminaries as Tony Greig, Clive Lloyd, Greg and Ian Chappell. Packer’s masterstroke was using that dapper, silver-tongued devil Richie Benaud as a recruitment consultant and publicist. This was the beginning of my well publicised feud with Benaud. PCA, on my advice, engaged Steve Randell and Saleem Malik to fulfill a similar role. This ultimately proved a bad decision.

After months of effort and despite my enthusiastic negotiating style, Turner’s PCA consortium was ultimately only able to sign five players: English Journeyman Arnold Sidebottom, teenage Queensland Heartthrob Carl “Big Mocha” Rackemann, little known Sri Lankan tweaker Hettithanthrige Don Kapila Haritha Perera (who was a better player than his modest record of 3 first class matches for Burgher Recreation Club suggests) and two retired Major League Baseballers: relief pitcher Albert Walter "Sparky" Lyle and reliable second-baseman Bernie Allen.

Despite our limited playing stocks, Turner and Stanford would not be dissuaded and funded PCA matches in the USA for the entire 1977 season. The three-on-two matches, while not a commercial success were surprisingly engaging contests. The Rest of the World (Sidebottom, Rackemann and Perera) had an advantage in youthful enthusiasm and cricketing experience while the Americans (Lyle and Allen) were technically limited but absolutely ruthless on anything short (a lesson Mocha refused to learn after he was dispatched over mid-wicket by the powerful Bernie Allen time and time again). For the record, the Rest of the World won the only SuperTest by an innings and 11 runs while the USA won the 50 over series 11-8. Yorkshireman Sidebottom was player of the series and won a magical night with Michael Douglas.

While the role of Power Cricket America is now largely forgotten, many astute critics of the game believe it was the entrepreneurial flair and commercial dynamism I demonstrated in promoting PCA and recruiting a powerful roster that spurred Packer to make One Day Cricket such a powerful force in the game over the last 30 years. It is hard not to agree.

* Based largely on my childhood friendship with Sir Donald and my many critically acclaimed articles on the sport (such as “Age limits in the judiciary but not in cricket commentary: The case against Richard Benaud” C&SLJ 54 2001”)

Donald Bradman learns a valuable lesson

Originally developed to sharpen my eye for interpreting statute, the technique shewn above was later used by my close childhood friend Donald 'Milky' Bradman to dominate the cricket world.