Amy was going stir-crazy in the hospital, so the next Saturday we convinced the doctors to let me take her out for a coffee and to stretch her legs. We had a lovely couple of hours, but towards the end she started saying, ‘I don’t feel so well.’ I said, ‘Come on, let’s get you back to the hospital.’ Later that day, I brought Jas and Will into the hospital to see their Mum before she had to get another scan. The scan showed that for the baby’s and Amy’s safety, the baby had to come out right now!!
That was a massive shock, and I was very worried. We’d never considered that this might happen. I quickly organised Amy’s parents to collect Jas and Will and explained the situation to them. Before we knew it, Amy was on the operating table.
Considering the circumstances, the birth went as well as it could. Just as Amy was going into theatre for an emergency Caesarean, the placenta burst. Blood and fluid covered the obstetrician on duty. Everyone said we were really lucky. If the placenta had burst an hour earlier, the blood would have engulfed the baby and most likely Amy would have passed away as well from the internal bleeding.
As a baby’s being born, everything happens too quickly for you to realise the significance of events. About two weeks later, when I hit the wall with fatigue, it sank in how my close my cricket career had been to finishing. If the children didn’t have their mother, I couldn’t be away ten months of the year. Everything could end just like that. I was so dependent on Amy, it broke me up to think of her not being there. It put life into perspective, that’s for sure.
Molly was born on 19 May 2007 – just twenty-one days after the World Cup final. While Amy recovered, Molly and I were rushed to the neonatal intensive care. Again, we felt like the big fella upstairs was looking after us, as the King Edward Memorial Hospital in Subiaco had neonatal facilities up there with the best in the world.
She was the tiniest human I can imagine ever holding or seeing. I could fit her in my hand. Her head was smaller than a tennis ball, and I could see the bones and veins through her skin, which was almost transparent. She was lying in a humidicrib and had tubes coming out of everywhere, breathing apparatus and eye patches.
Meanwhile, Amy was in the recovery room not knowing if the baby was okay. She was in great pain and getting very emotional. Eventually I sneaked back up there and told her everything was okay, Molly was stable. We had already agreed on the name. Amy said, ‘We’ve chosen Molly, have we? Molly with a “y”?’
Amy had wanted ‘Mollie’, not ‘Molly’, but I’d spelt it the wrong way. English was never my strong subject.
Throughout the winter, Amy had to go to the hospital for several hours a day to be with Molly until she was full-term, so I spent another three months as carer for Jasmin and William. I received many messages of support from the cricket community, particularly from older players who had children and understood a bit better what we were going through. To this day, Molly has a fighting spirit and is a blessing to our family.
Those months, full of work and stress and joy, certainly gave me the time and mental space away from cricket that I’d needed, so by the time the new season started I was excited about playing again. We began with the Twenty20 World Cup in South Africa, which was an interesting experience. Nobody really knew how to play the game, so we were treating each innings like it was the last 10 overs of a one-dayer and teeing off. There were so many classy players in the Australian team we were confident of doing well, and despite a rudimentary plan we made it to the semi-final against India. Chasing 189 – we eventually fell just short – I was batting and, when completing a second run, my hamstring went pop.
It was the first injury I’d had, which was quite incredible given the amount of cricket I had played. The Australian physio, Alex Kountouris, told me to ice it every few hours, but aside from rest there wasn’t much I could do. I flew home where my care was taken over by the Warriors’ physio, Rob Colling. It resulted in my missing a one-day series in India, which I was disappointed about, but on the bright side, I could extend my time with Amy and the children, and be fresh for the start of the home summer, in which we had Test series against Sri Lanka, first, and then India, who fancied themselves to win in Australia for the first time ever.
I only had one Shield game to prepare for the first Test in Brisbane. When the Australian team convened, there was a new feeling: Tim Neilsen had come in as coach after John Buchanan had stepped down. John had wanted Tim to come to the World Cup in the West Indies, but Tim let him have his time. Tim and I had a good rapport. He’d throw balls to me all day and wanted to work all the time. He was intense, a contrast to John’s Zen calm. I had similar values to Tim when it came to work ethic and putting the team first.
The Gabba pitch was true and flat and didn’t give any help to Sri Lanka’s spearhead, Murali. Facing him was a nightmare. I could only pick 80 per cent of his balls at best, and he was so accurate, putting so many revs on the ball, I couldn’t relax. The Australian crowds kept yelling out ‘No ball’ when he bowled, which I thought was pretty unsporting. He’s quite a sensitive guy and took to heart what people said about him. When I played with him in the IPL the next year, he said he didn’t want to come back to Australia. That eventually thawed out, but in 2007 the crowd’s taunts had an effect on him.
Hundreds in that Test and the next, in Hobart, settled me down and gave me that comfortable early-season feeling of having runs on the board. I’d had such a tumultuous off-season and before that had tapered off in the West Indies, so I’d been very nervous before those Tests.
In Hobart, Sri Lanka’s big guns fired and we were lucky to win. Mahela Jayawardene made a hundred in the first innings. We generally had his measure in Australia, but over the years my respect grew for him as I saw how well he batted in difficult conditions, and how versatile he was in one-dayers and Twenty20. He was a great fighter, and as a Sri Lankan captain, he was dealing with a lot of politics as well as running the team on the field.
Kumar Sangakkara, meanwhile, played one of the best innings I’ve ever seen in the second dig. We felt like we were going to win, but he kept hitting boundaries at will, so crisply, the sound of the ball coming off the bat just rang through the ground. Lasith Malinga came in and started bombing a few sixes, and I started getting really worried. We had a huge stroke of luck when Sangakkara, on 192, was given out off his shoulder and his head. It was definitely in the top five innings I’ve seen, and was ended by one of the worst five decisions.
We had a short one-day tour to New Zealand in December, but I began to tense up thinking about the four-Test series against India. I’d had such a great start to my Test career, and the Sri Lankan Tests had gone well for me, but I felt against India that the expectations had ratcheted up. This was the big one; I had to concentrate and work harder. Before I knew it, I had already put more pressure on myself.
Approaching the Boxing Day Test, I felt tighter than ever before. India were hyped up, and there would be big crowds. On the first day, Phil Jaques and Matthew Hayden batted really well but I was the most nervous I’d ever been and got out cheaply, lbw to Anil Kumble.
I felt angry and depressed and my whole world was crashing in – after one innings! Ricky sat next to me at the end of the day and said, ‘It’s not often the both of us get out cheaply.’ His comment defused the tension. It was just another day; next time would be better. No big deal.
Our bowlers did extremely well to win that Test for us, and in the New Year’s Test in Sydney I was desperate to get a good score, putting pressure on myself again.
We were 2/27 when I went in, and on my first ball, RP Singh pitched it up. It swung away from me but I went for a huge, nervous cover drive. I happened to catch it right in the middle and it sailed over the field for four. Ricky came up and smirked. ‘Great shot!’
‘No!’ I almost snapped at him. ‘It’s a terrible shot. What am I doing? First ball!’
Ricky said, ‘No, it was great, you just went with your instinct, go for it.’
I fought my
way to a nervous 41 but wasn’t batting well. Just after lunch, Harbhajan Singh came on and got Ricky out. Harbhajan took off like Cathy Freeman in the olympic Stadium, he did roly-polies on the ground and played up to the crowd, carrying on. I remember thinking, What is he doing? The press are going to start on this Harbhajan-Ricky thing. I wasn’t in a great frame of mind, thinking about negative possibilities. Two balls later, I got out to RP Singh.
That day, Simmo batted brilliantly. He was more controlled than the usual Andrew Symonds, playing with great responsibility, and proving to himself that he was an authentic Test batsman. He was lucky, being given not out after nicking one, and surviving a stumping chance that the umpire didn’t refer to video, even though it was clearly out. We got to 463 thanks to Simmo’s 163 and a feisty 79 from Hoggy, who came into the dressing room with a big smile on his face. I was actually quite disappointed with him, because I rated him very highly as a batsman and this was a chance to make a Test hundred.
We had a couple of long days in the field as Laxman and Tendulkar were in great touch, while Brett Lee, who got on the SCG honour board with five wickets, was all that stood between them and an insurmountable total. When I went in second time, we were two down and about 20 runs ahead. The pitch was turning a bit more, and I was feeling the pressure big time. I was thinking, I’m not sure where I’m going to score a run. Just hang in there. It took me a while to get the pace and turn of the pitch, but Haydos was going well at the other end and eventually I got used to it.
My 145 not out set up the match so we could have a crack at bowling India out on the last day, but it was, for me personally, one of my most memorable moments. The team was in a tough spot. The game was in the balance. I’d got myself into a lather over doing well in this series, and was overwhelmed by relief. The SCG is probably my favourite ground in Australia, and I was proud to get a Test match century there.
It all came together for us that afternoon, culminating in Michael Clarke’s three wickets in the second-last over of the day. I can’t say I wanted the ball to come to me at slip, but two soft catches ballooned, and I was as pumped as anyone to have pulled off the win when it looked for all money like India would save the draw and keep the series alive.
We weren’t aware of anything untoward. We enjoyed our celebration and were so hyped up that I decided to lead the song straight away. It was a great rendition. But then, within minutes, several of the team – including Ricky, Haydos, Simmo and Gilly – were whisked away to a separate part of the SCG. The rest of us were sitting around having a quiet beer trying to enjoy the win, but it wasn’t the same. What’s going on? How long are they going to be? It was a weird feeling in the dressing room. We were overjoyed about winning, but worried – was everything all right? Steve Bernard said they were in a private room being interviewed separately, and could be a while.
Though we hadn’t talked about it, we knew the gist of what they were being quizzed on. The tiff between Harbhajan and Simmo was something I’d thought of as a bit of a joke. Australia had gone to India for a one-day series in the spring, and Harbhajan had called Simmo a ‘monkey’. Simmo couldn’t give a stuff, and wouldn’t have taken it as a racial slur. At the end of the game, Harbhajan had come into the dressing room and said, ‘I’m sorry, that was terrible, I promise it won’t happen again.’ Simmo said, ‘Don’t worry about it, it’s nothing.’ They shook hands, and that was it.
Then, at the SCG, in India’s first innings, Harbhajan came out and swung away and put on 130 with Sachin Tendulkar, and at some point Harbhajan allegedly called Simmo a monkey again. I didn’t hear it, but have absolute 100 per cent faith in the guys who did. Unfortunately for them, being witnesses meant they were put through the mill.
On the field, Simmo said to Harbhajan, ‘Mate, I thought we’d been through this, you said it was unacceptable and wouldn’t happen again. What’s going on?’
Haydos and Gilly, who both heard it, immediately reported it to Ricky. There was a set procedure for this, which Ricky followed. He ran off the field and informed the match referee. I didn’t think there’d be much of a controversy to it. Obviously I was very wrong.
The evening of the win, we stayed in the rooms until about 11pm. The others were kept in the interviews until two or three o’clock in the morning. I couldn’t quite work it out, but the next day’s press made it clear. There was a whole rap sheet on us, apparently. In the post-match press conference, Anil Kumble, who was India’s captain, accused us of bad sportsmanship. Incidents during that last day were brought up. Even Gilly and Pup were accused of cheating, a ridiculous slur against two players I considered the most ethical in the game. In Pup’s case, it came from when Sourav Ganguly nicked Brett Lee to Michael at slip. Sourav said it had bounced, and the umpires were trying to figure it out. The replays were inconclusive. I was right next to Pup when he caught it, and was 100 per cent convinced. I kept telling him, ‘Mate, you definitely caught that.’
Was I right or wrong? I believe my instincts were right, as were those of my teammates, and the umpires gave Sourav out. But the thing is, in those situations everyone’s under pressure: the batsmen, the fielders, the bowlers, the umpires. You ask the umpire and that’s what he’s there for, to make that decision. Gilly was accused of unfairly claiming a catch, but all he did was take what he thought was a catch and ask the umpire. He couldn’t know for certain, but he thought there was an edge. Then it’s up to the umpire. For anyone to question Gilly’s integrity in the game, just because a replay showed that the ball might or might not have hit the edge, only made them look silly.
After the Test, I became aware of the ‘Sack Ricky’ campaign in the press, to make him a scapegoat for people’s grievances about many related and unrelated matters. My century, of which I was so happy and proud, didn’t get a mention, and nor did this phenomenal SCG Test win. We were being branded as cheats, liars and racists. It was way over the top. I decided not to read this rubbish anymore, but it was hard to escape, particularly as I was asked to front up to the media the next day. I played the straightest bat I could in support of Ricky and the spirit in which we played the game.
The Indian cricket board threatened to boycott the tour if the disciplinary hearings went against Harbhajan, which was another overreaction. I thought there was an element of calculation in it: the Indian team wanting to deflect attention from the fact that they were 2–0 down in the series. The controversy could galvanise them.
We Australian players went our own separate ways after leaving Sydney, and got together a few days later in Perth. At our first team meeting Ricky said, ‘There’s been a lot of nonsense going around. We have to put it out of our minds and prepare our best for this Test match.’ He had an amazing ability to brush off controversy and concentrate on the team goal.
But within the team, there was a lot of resentment towards Cricket Australia. The guys who were witnesses were dragged through the mud and had to sit through hearing after hearing. There was a huge financial implication if the Indians left the tour. But the players felt CA hadn’t taken the side of their players. Our team rallied around the guys, and Andrew Symonds in particular. We believed his side and wanted to support him through this difficult situation. CA, on the other hand, were trying to protect their financial interests. The team felt very let down.
A player with the stature of Sachin Tendulkar could have taken control of the crisis and acted as conciliator, standing above it all, so highly was he respected. But for reasons of his own, he chose not to. Obviously I admired Sachin from afar, but I had no relationship with him other than to say hello. Perhaps it was too much to expect of him to be bigger than ordinary mortals. Later, we beat India in a day-night game at the SCG. When they lost, quite often he wouldn’t come out and shake the opposition’s hand. That used to tick us off, and this night at the SCG, Michael Clarke said to me, ‘I wonder if Sachin’s going to come out this time?’
Sure enough, no Sachin. Pup decided to draw a line in the sand. He ran up the steps in
to the Indian dressing room and found Sachin, right at the back, packing away his kit. When Michael asked if he was going to shake hands, Sachin said he’d forgotten. Pup made his point. You don’t forget to shake hands after an international match. Perhaps Sachin wasn’t a god, just another human like the rest of us.
We were carrying more than just our cricket baggage into Perth. Chris Rogers, who I knew very well from state cricket in Perth, made his debut, which gave the team a different feel. I was used to Justin Langer and Matthew Hayden, two very dominant Australian openers, at the top of the order, and now it was Phil Jaques and Chris Rogers, both very good players who had plundered runs in first-class cricket but not that same experienced, almost impregnable front line. I thought, Gee, there’s a bit of extra responsibility on me, I’m now almost a senior player.
We lost the Test match and I don’t think any of us performed well. I got my first duck in Test cricket – at home, in front of my family and friends.
India had rallied after the Sydney controversy, and as much as we were trying to ignore it I doubt anyone was unaffected. Every player was trying to be on his best behaviour. Nobody wanted to be seen not playing in the right spirit. There is a fine line between trying and trying too hard, and we lacked not only that verbal aggression but also the general aggression and edge that are necessary to Test cricket.
The fourth Test was in Adelaide, and I hated the thought of losing it and drawing the series. I only scored 22, but centuries from Haydos, Ricky and Pup ensured that we were never in danger of losing. I was relieved that we’d won 2–1 but happier that the series had finished. I just wanted it over. There was so much rubbish said and controversy, I wanted to see the back of it. I’d never felt like that about a cricket series before, but there was a sourness to the 2007–08 summer that left a bad taste for everybody involved.
I had no idea that that was going to be Gilly’s last Test match. It was heart-wrenching for such a clean sportsman to be dragged into the mire and have his ethics questioned after Sydney, and I wonder if that hastened his retirement. Then, on the first day in Adelaide, he dropped a straightforward nick off Laxman. I saw a look in Gilly’s eye. He’s a very proud man and wouldn’t want to let his teammates down. Looking back, I realised he was thinking he was ready to go.
Underneath the Southern Cross Page 19
