Mr Cricket

by Michael Hussey

  But an interesting thing happened. As they started to get closer to this apparently impossible target, they began to slow down. It was clear to me that the reason they slowed down was because, suddenly, fear came back into the equation. They had been blasting away with the thought that there was no genuine chance of them beating us and no one expected them to do so. But with the runs flowing at the necessary rate, people were beginning to think they did have a chance and, what is more, the series was again up for grabs. Not surprisingly, they lost a couple of wickets and again became outsiders. Our standard probably dropped a bit too while they were on top, as we were now under pressure after having thought that would never be the case. South Africa may have won the match, but the return of the fear factor on both sides had had a strong effect on the course of the game.

  So those are two clear examples of the impact that confidence can have in a game of cricket. Confidence comes from various sources. For me, it is very closely linked to having done the right preparation. I do believe that one of the secrets of the Australian team’s success over the past 15 or so years has been the way we foster and use confidence. The players in the team know their game so well and trust themselves and each other so much that they are able to just go out, do the job and enjoy the experience. Each and every player knows that he has done the work needed, prepared to the best of his ability and, therefore, has little to fear. There is no need for them to try to be something they are not. They are in the team because they know their strengths and weaknesses, have got their bodies and minds in the right state and have trained in a way that allows them to bring out their best.

  No one ever attains very eminent success by simply doing what is required. It is the amount of excellence of what is over and above the required that determines the greatness of ultimate distinction.

  I think most people realise that the Australian team is a hard-working and highly skilled unit. That is probably the reason why most people were surprised that we lost the Ashes in 2005. Many people have asked me what went wrong during that series in England. It seemed that we were virtually unbeatable at the time, playing with an enormous amount of confidence, yet England managed to beat us. I wasn’t part of the Test squad but, speaking to some of the guys afterwards, it dawned on me that a possible contributing factor to the loss was that the guys had put so much effort into winning in India a few months earlier that they had taken their eyes off the ball just a tiny bit when it came to the Ashes. India was the ‘last frontier’ for the team and the guys put in a huge amount of time and effort into claiming that series. Maybe they weren’t quite as ready for the Ashes as they should have been or it wasn’t quite as meaningful to them as in previous years.

  As much as it hurt to lose to England – and as much as the result dented the team’s soaring confidence – it became a great lesson in learning how to restore self-belief. Just a couple of weeks after the Ashes, the team played in the World XI series. Of course, the Ashes was very fresh in everyone’s minds and, in order to deal with the demons from that series as quickly as possible, all the squad, including support staff, sat in a room and held an open session. Anyone could speak about what they believed had gone wrong in England and could suggest what they felt we needed to do to get back on track. Lots of ideas came out of it. Some were meaningful, many weren’t. But for me, Ricky summed up the situation perfectly. He thought our preparation and training had been poor and we hadn’t been as diligent in those fundamentals as we had been in previous times. We had become a bit lazy, things were left a little too much to the individual and maybe those individuals weren’t doing everything they could to be completely prepared.

  From now on, each one of us was to come to every training session with the goal of always wanting to become a tiny bit better. We were to ask ourselves: ‘How am I going to improve just that little bit more today?’ It’s a mantra we’ve stuck to ever since. And the results speak for themselves. Little more than 12 months after losing the series in England, we reclaimed the Ashes, winning 5–0 for the first time in 86 years.

  If there is one great pressure our team has to perpetually contend with, it’s the knowledge that everyone is out to get us. Sometimes, sadly, that pressure comes from within our own country. Our team hears quite often that some Australians get a bit bored with us winning so often. I get disappointed when I hear that because I would hope people realise that the reason we come out on top so often is because we’ve worked harder than anyone else and have done everything possible to give ourselves the best chance of winning. People can say what they like about the standard of our opponents, or any other factors, but, as far as I’m concerned, we win because we work the hardest, we’re skilful, smart and, importantly, we thrive on big-game pressure situations. We love being No. 1 and enjoy the challenges that come with it. That is why I found it so heartening to hear the British rower Steve Redgrave tell us in a team meeting that whenever he watched a sporting event he would always barrack for the No.1 team. His reasoning was that he could appreciate and relate to how much effort had been put in to become the favourite. Accordingly, in any sport, the No. 1 deserves our respect and support.

  Brad Hodge, myself, Brad Haddin and Shaun Tait relax during the World Cup

  I think the same way as Redgrave. I don’t agree with going for the underdog. It’s nice to have fairytales in sport, but when it comes down to it I prefer to go for the favourite because I believe they are favourites for a reason. They’ve worked harder, they are the best and they deserve to win because they are setting a standard others must aspire to if they want to genuinely compete. That is not the usual Australian way; we love the underdog. But it’s my way. Up until now, I’ve kept this to myself for fear it be construed the wrong way. So many people around me prefer to go for the team least likely to win. But after playing for some time now in the world’s best Test and one-day cricket teams, I feel more strongly than ever that the top team or player in any sport (or any walk of life, for that matter) should be respected and admired for the work they’ve done to get to that point. Willing them to lose just doesn’t seem fair.

  LEADING RUNSCORERS AFTER 25 TESTS

  Knowing that the players in the Australian team throughout the late 1990s and early 2000s were setting such a high standard did not discourage me at all. It only inspired me to work harder. I respected their skills and abilities and knew that they were in that team because they had put in more effort than anyone else to become as good as they could be. I didn’t find it scary or intimidating. I found it a huge challenge that I was going to put everything into overcoming. That’s why gaining a place in a team that is at the top of its field has given me such great satisfaction and it’s why I don’t believe in the tall-poppy syndrome.

  Glenn McGrath and Andrew Symonds played vital roles in our pursuit of a third consecutive World Cup win.

  There have been many people over the years who doubted I had the mettle to realise my goal of playing for Australia and performing well at the elite level. Among them was the former Test spinner Greg Matthews, who had a go at me at the Allan Border Medal in 2001.

  I had known Greg from having played against him. ln my first game against NSW the Blues had a star-studded team, including Glenn McGrath, the two Waughs, Michael Bevan, Mark Taylor, Shane Lee and others. It was a great team and I knew that a good performance against them would be a feather in my cap. I got through to lunch on about 40 not out and was feeling pretty good about myself. As I was walking off the field for the break Matthews came up behind me and said, ‘Wow, you’ve got a great arse, mate. I wouldn’t mind seeing you in the showers.’ I bolted off the field, told the WA boys about it and they burst out laughing. They said that Greg was a bit of a different character and he was probably just trying to unsettle me. It worked! I got out in the first over after lunch!

  In the years that followed, I saw Greg quite a lot around the traps, including the Australian Cricketers’ Association, where we were both board members. I wouldn’t say Greg and I wer
e great friends, but I always said g’day to him and everything was cordial between us. Then, that night at the AB Medal, he confronted me in a quite peculiar way.

  It was some time after the night’s formalities had ended and everyone was just relaxing and enjoying each other’s company. There were many current and former players there, a who’s who of Australian cricket in one room. People were talking about the game, reminiscing about old times and discussing the future. It was a really great atmosphere. Greg must have spotted me while I was standing alone for a moment. He approached me and, quite aggressively, said: ‘You’re never going to play for Australia.’

  I was taken aback: ‘What are you talking about? Why not?’

  ‘Because you haven’t got that X factor. You need that X factor to be able to play for Australia.’

  Maybe I took it the wrong way, but Greg’s words really ticked me off. I bit back at him straight away: ‘That’s rubbish! You don’t know me and you don’t know me as a cricketer, either.’

  I went on to tell Greg that I might seem like a friendly guy off the field but when I get into the thick of the battle I’ll fight just as hard as Steve Waugh would. I got quite stroppy with him and he took a step back after my little outburst. ‘Ok then, maybe you do have the X factor!’ he said. It seemed like Greg was quite surprised that I’d responded like that. He had seen me as weak and soft and too nice. He didn’t think I had that hardness in me, the hardness it takes to be able to push yourself further than anyone else. I knew I did and, looking back, perhaps that was the first time I actually publicly stood up for myself to correct that perception.

  MICHAEL HUSSEY ONE-DAY CRICKET STATISTICS

  I’ve been an opening batsman for most of my career and, in that position especially, you can’t afford to be soft. You’re not going to be able to score runs or play for a long time if you can’t stand the heat. I know that Simon Katich has been given the ‘nice guy’ tag at times, similar to me. But I also know that Simon is one of the hardest nuts going around. Perceptions are quite hard to change.

  I walked away from the encounter with Greg feeling good. I had stood up to a former Test cricketer, someone with great experience and knowledge and shown him that I was strong-minded and possessed some of the qualities needed to be able to play for Australia. I knew who I was and how best I should go about my game. If that incident had taken place earlier in my career I might have walked away from it thinking that perhaps he was right, that maybe I should train harder and become more aggressive. But, no, not this time.

  The difference between the ordinary and the extraordinary is that little bit extra.

  Mettle, aggression, determination, strength, skill – even that X-factor Greg spoke about – have all been factors in my rise as a cricketer. But the most important ingredient remains my genuine love of the game. It’s something that obviously didn’t escape the attention of Andrew Flintoff and Brad Hodge, who were amazed one horribly cold day at Old Trafford how much I enjoyed playing cricket.

  I was playing county cricket for Durham at the time. The weather was miserable and I was out there batting away for my life. I didn’t think anything of it, really. It was just another day and the fact that a freezing wind was blowing down from the Highlands had no effect on me. In my mind it may as well have been a hot Perth morning. Freddie turned to Brad and said, ‘Wow, Huss must be the only bloke in the world who could enjoy cricket on a day like this.’ I don’t know which of the pair it was, but one of them said, ‘He’s Mr Cricket! He just loves it so much!’

  Later that season I was playing for Australia against England in a one-dayer and Flintoff was bowling. I played the ball back to him and he said, ‘How’s it going, Mr Cricket?’ Our team was in trouble at the time and I was concentrating very hard, so I just snapped back at him. Freddie responded cheerfully, ‘Oh, don’t be like that, Mr Cricket! That’s not very nice!’ Andrew Symonds overheard the exchange and cracked up laughing. He told everyone about it and ‘Mr Cricket’ has been my nickname ever since.

  I don’t mind it. I eat, sleep and breathe cricket. I feel privileged to be involved in a great team, I enjoy training and preparing. I love talking about the game and often it seems my life revolves around it.

  Certainly it’s a nice name to be remembered by. I may not be the most talented cricketer, but I do believe I have been very thorough over the years at finding my best game, understanding and executing the methods that will help me reach – and stay at – the highest level. I’d like to be remembered as a team man, as well. I always want what’s best for the teams I play for. Scoring centuries is great, but my ultimate goal is to be regarded as a good person who served my teams well. I will feel I’ve been successful if, when people think of me in future years, they say: ‘You know, that Mike Hussey was a great team man and a great bloke. And, he wasn’t a bad cricketer either!’

  CHAPTER 10

  NEW HORIZONS

  Representing your country is a huge honour and responsibility. It’s also a balancing act. We are expected to win but do it in a way that makes our fellow Australians proud. We must present well to our opponents and their supporters. We must also break new ground but protect the spirit, traditions and integrity of the game. Cricket-lovers, the general public, media and foreign supporters have every right to examine the way we pursue those goals. Public discussion is a cherished aspect of this great game. However, being caught among competing philosophies can expose you to enormous pressure. That’s what happened shortly after Christmas 2007.

  The background to the 2007–08 Indian tour of Australia ensured it would be tense. During our one day series there were heated exchanges between Andrew Symonds and Shanthakumaran Sreesanth, the infamous monkey taunts, and some highly charged incidents between Harbhajan Singh and a couple of our players that had dominated the news. Emotions were stirred in both countries and were still bubbling away when the Indians arrived in Australia barely two months later in December.

  Wherever the Indian team goes, a hoard of media follows. At our press appearances ten or twenty journalists might ask questions. However, the Indian players draw one hundred journalists to theirs. Each is clambering for that unique story, meaning they will go to great lengths to get the right quote or angle. It’s no surprise that the Indian players shy away from the media more than some others. But it wasn’t just the Indians who were facing the music this time. Because of the dramatic lead up, this tour escalated to a different level. It had the feel of being bigger than anything I’d encountered – only the Ashes in 2006–07 could compare – and we were under more scrutiny than at any time in my career.

  Only a spark was necessary to ignite the tension. It came in the Sydney Test, though it seemed more a flamethrower than a spark. The Test was littered with drama: Ricky Ponting reported Harbhajan for making offensive remarks, contentious umpiring decisions caused problems, there were questions over the honesty of some players for not ‘walking’ or for claiming supposedly dubious catches and, finally, an outcry over how we celebrated one of the great Test wins. Emotions were so high that there was even a call for Ricky to stand down as captain.

  Problems snowballed during the Test. However, I believe the moment things truly degenerated was when India’s captain Anil Kumble declared during the post-match media conference that only one team had played in the spirit of the game. I felt that Anil was implying that our side had failed to reach the standards of good sportsmanship that his side had. When I heard that comment from Anil I was very disappointed. It was a monumental judgement to make. It placed Ricky’s captaincy under a lot of pressure and questioned the integrity of our team.

  I wanted to understand Anil’s motivation. Was it a heat-of-the-moment reaction to his team’s narrow loss? Was he just letting off steam? Was he employing a tactic to take pressure off himself and his team? Or did he genuinely think we hadn’t played the game in the right spirit? Of course, I could never truly know why he said it, but my conclusion was that we had played the game in the right spiri
t. I had unequivocal support for Ricky as captain and an unwavering support for the conduct of our team.

  I was asked to talk to media at the SCG a couple of days later. We try to spread the load of our media work to give Ricky a break, as he is most in demand. I’m seen as one of the more diplomatic players so, if we are expecting prickly questions, they will often ask me to do the job. This was one of those cases.

  As with getting ready to play my best, I wanted to prepare for my media work to make sure I conveyed my points correctly. This media conference would be the public relations equivalent to batting on a green top – I had to be sharp and ready, right on top of my game. I spoke to our media liaison officer Philip Pope to discuss what questions – apart from the obvious – might be asked, and we briefly discussed my possible answers. I wanted to answer every question honestly. I didn’t want to have contrived answers. I was confident I could do that because I felt strongly about my arguments and had nothing to hide. I was confident in my support for Ricky, my team and my belief that we had played in the right spirit.