Glenn Maxwell 4

by Patrick Loughlin

  The guide explained the significance of the sights while adding in some pretty bad jokes. They saw Big Ben, Trafalgar Square, St Paul’s Cathedral and drove over the famous London Bridge. They even had to stop for a line of the Queen’s guards who were mounted on horses, trotting down Piccadilly Circus. All the while Will sat there, smiling occasionally at Zoe and thinking hard for something witty to say that wasn’t as corny as the tour guide’s jokes.

  When they arrived at the Tower of London, the teams hopped off the bus to see the displays and the Crown Jewels.

  ‘Hope you enjoy your time at the tower,’ said the tour guide. ‘Don’t lose your heads.’

  ‘Ha! That’s funny, because, you know, they used to chop people’s heads off here,’ explained Shavil.

  ‘Yeah, I get it,’ said Will, rolling his eyes but laughing despite himself.

  They walked around the tower led by one of the Beefeater guards. Will looked at all the old relics including some interesting weapons and torture devices and re-enactments of scenes from the tower’s long history – but mostly he was looking at Zoe.

  Halfway through the tour they were separated by a crowd and he didn’t see her again till they were outside by Traitors’ Gate, a gate in the tower’s wall that led to the River Thames.

  The Beefeater explained it was the gate through which tower prisoners were once brought, by boat. ‘Imagine being rowed up through that gate and knowing that you were probably going to die in this place. Pretty sad, eh?’

  Will looked at Zoe, who was standing next to him.

  ‘Dunno. Did they get Macca’s and a slushie for their final meal?’

  ‘Doubt it,’ said Zoe.

  ‘Well yeah, that’s pretty sad, then,’ said Will, and Zoe laughed.

  ‘How much is he paying you to talk to him?’ grunted a voice behind them. Will didn’t need to turn around. He knew it was Toby.

  ‘Go jump in the lake,’ shot Zoe, motioning at the river below.

  ‘Oooh, I’m so scared!’ said Toby. He was flanked by Hayden and Justin, his NSW teammates. Both looked slightly uncomfortable. ‘Do you always need girls to stick up for you, Albright?’

  Before Will could respond, Zoe cut in.

  ‘He doesn’t need me to, I want to,’ said Zoe, flashing a defiant ‘so there’ glare at Toby.

  ‘Whatever,’ he scoffed. ‘Let’s get out of here. These two are making me feel nauseous.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Will to Zoe, when Toby and his mates had skulked away. ‘I guess you can see we’re not the best of friends …’

  ‘That’s okay. I meant it.’ she said. There was an awkward silence. Good awkward. They both smiled.

  After their visit to the tower, they got back on the red double-decker bus and headed to Buckingham Palace, to watch the Changing of the Guard. Shavil and Darren did their best to try to make one of the palace guards laugh by speaking in bad cockney accents and saying things like ‘Cor blimey, Gov’nor!’ and Will could have sworn he’d seen a corner of the guard’s mouth twitch.

  When everyone got back on the bus, Will decided to bite the bullet and sit next to Zoe. They didn’t say much but he didn’t mind. It was nice to just sit and watch the scenery as they rode along through London together.

  A GREY DAY

  WHOOOOOOOOOOP!

  Will shot up in his bed, woken by a mighty blast.

  It was Jack. In his hand was an air horn. On his face was a devilish grin.

  ‘Come on, boys, up and at ’em!’ he boomed.

  Will blearily squinted at his phone. It was 5 am and he must have finally adjusted to London local time because it felt like 5 am. His head collapsed back on his pillow – but not for long. The team had to leave in an hour and travel for two-and-a-half hours by coach to get to the Bristol Pavilion, the county ground for Gloucester-shire Cricket Club, where they would take on Pakistan.

  When they finally arrived it was cold and grey and much more like Will had imagined England to be. Their match was delayed due to the drizzle but eventually it dried up enough for play to begin.

  The game got off to a miserable start for the Australians. First, Will lost the toss. For some reason he’d called tails, even though he always called heads.

  When the Aussies took to the field, it really got ugly. Maybe they were all a little sleepy from the bus trip, maybe it was the dank chill of the Bristol air, or maybe they just weren’t up for it. Whatever it was, their poor fielding in their match against Afghanistan continued in their game against Pakistan. If anything, it got worse.

  In the first five overs, the Aussies dropped three easy chances, the last by Will himself when he tripped running backwards attempting to catch a miscued hook shot. As he peeled himself off the ground to return the ball, the first thing he saw was the laughing mouth of Toby.

  What a joke, Toby mouthed to Hayden, the wickie, who raised his eyebrows and nodded.

  These guys are never going to respect me, thought Will.

  There wasn’t much talk in the field before this, but after Will’s dropped catch, the Aussie team went completely silent. There was no team chatter or encouragement for the bowler. Each player seemed to be in his own little bubble of gloom.

  I need to say something to get this team going, thought Will.

  But as he searched for the right words, he saw Toby’s sneering face and lost his nerve.

  Somehow the bowling attack managed to restrict Pakistan to 143 runs, more due to luck and some individual brilliance from Darren and Joey than teamwork in the field. When the second innings started, Will thought they might still have a chance – after all, they had the batting talent. The thing he didn’t know was that the Pakistan bowlers were great at swinging the ball. They even got some reverse swing happening. One by one the Australian batsmen fell – Shavil, then Brock, then Will himself. The only one to offer any resistance was Toby, but when Pakistan brought on a talented left-arm spinner, he was soon trapped LBW.

  After Toby, Will watched in horror as the Aussie wickets fell like dominoes, the spinner tearing through the middle-order batsmen.

  ‘Tell me this isn’t happening,’ he groaned to Shavil as they sat helplessly on the players’ bench.

  ‘It’s not happening,’ said Shavil obligingly. ‘But it is,’ he added a moment later.

  Not long after, as Will watched the Pakistani team celebrate their victory, he tried to comfort himself.

  Well, maybe we can afford one loss …

  On the long bus ride home, Will tried to get some sleep but every time he closed his eyes, he kept seeing the game. He saw his dropped catch, the fielding mistakes of his teammates, and then each wicket, one after the other. Worst of all, he saw himself standing in the middle, not knowing what to do. More than ever he needed some advice.

  Where was Maxi when he needed him?

  The next day, Will woke up to the sun streaming through the dorm-room window and the birds twittering outside and for a second he forgot all about the loss to Pakistan. Then he remembered and it was like a hard punch to his heart. Today the team had to get up and do it all over again, this time against Sri Lanka.

  At least the game was closer to where they were staying – the Nevill Ground Cricket Pavilion in Royal Tunbridge. It took just half an hour to get there and after Graham and Jack led the boys with a blast of ‘Down Under’ and a couple of chants of ‘Aussie! Aussie! Aussie!’ everyone was feeling fired up by the time they stepped off the bus.

  Will was asked to call the toss and this time he chose heads. He won and decided then and there to never ever call tails again. He also decided to bat first.

  The openers bolted away early, with Toby smashing three fours in the first over. Shavil adopted his standard role as anchor, finding the gaps for ones and twos and the occasional boundary while Toby looked for the rope and found it more often than not.

  Will breathed a sigh of relief – but the relief didn’t last long.

  A tiny Sri Lankan spinner came into the attack and proved lethal. His first
ball found Shavil’s glove and bounced up into the bowler’s hand. His next ball, to Brock, took out the top of off stump. The Sri Lankan spinner was now on a hat-trick.

  Will came to the crease feeling nervous. He didn’t feel any better when he met Toby in the middle who offered the encouraging words ‘Don’t get out.’

  As he faced his first ball against the talented spinner, Will tried to steel himself.

  I can’t fail. I’m captain, I have to lead the way.

  But Will should have been more focused on the ball leaving the bowler’s hand. It was a devilish delivery that dipped back just before it got to Will. He got his bat out of the way just in time and it clipped his thigh pad and went through to the keeper. The bowler and wicketkeeper shouted anyway and then the surrounding Sri Lankan fielders went up as well. Will stood his ground – he knew that the ball hadn’t hit his bat – but when he looked up at the umpire, his crooked old finger was in the air. The Sri Lankans started cheering, celebrating the catch and congratulating the bowler.

  Will shook his head in disbelief.

  But I missed it! It hit my pad!

  He looked back at Toby, desperately seeking some kind of sympathy from his teammate. Toby shook his head, as if to say that he couldn’t believe the unfairness either – but at the same time, Will saw the self-satisfied smirk Toby had on his face, underneath his helmet.

  Will tucked his bat under his arm, took off his helmet and walked away.

  SHAKE IT OFF

  ‘Okay, boys, I know the loss against Sri Lanka was disappointing. But we’ve had a day to get it out of our system and yesterday’s recovery and training was a good one …’ Jack paused for a moment and looked around the dressing room of Southampton’s Rose Bowl. It had been another long drive to get there – one hour and 48 minutes on the motorway – but unlike on previous trips where the bus had been full of jokes and chatter, the junior boys had been as solemn as pallbearers at a funeral.

  Jack looked at the downcast faces sitting on the polished dressing-room benches in front of him.

  ‘We can’t let the last two games define this tournament. It’s not over. We can still make it to the finals if we beat Ireland today – as long as Afghanistan beats Pakistan.’

  Will knew that technically Jack was right. It was still possible that their team could win … But was it likely?

  A sudden flash from their game against Sri Lanka appeared in Will’s mind.

  After Will had been given out, Australia had recovered in the middle order and put some runs on the board. Things had been looking up for a while. The Aussie bowlers had managed to contain Sri Lanka’s top order with some hard-fought wickets and when it came down to the last over, Sri Lanka still needed 20 runs to win.

  Will had taken it upon himself to bowl. It should have been a simple task: bowl accurately and don’t give them anything they can get into the air.

  He had started with an off-break that had landed just where he wanted but the batsman’s miscued shot still managed to slip through the gap for four. Will had pitched the next one up but the batsman had launched himself at the ball and lobbed it all the way down the ground for six. The next two balls had gone much the same way. A crafty deflection from Will’s topspinner saw the ball roll away through gully, beating Darren who was acting as sweeper on the boundary. Then Will had tried a straight ball – only to have the gutsy Sri Lankan batsman hit a ramp shot back over his own head for six.

  The moment had been seared into Will’s brain. He had gambled on himself to bowl them to victory – and his gamble had lost them the game. His confidence in his captaining abilities had shrivelled up like an apple that’d been left at the bottom of the fruit bowl for too long.

  Now here they were about to face Ireland in their last group match. Even if they beat Ireland, they had to rely on Afghanistan to beat Pakistan. Will liked the Afghanis’ spirit, but he just couldn’t see them taking down Pakistan.

  A voice from behind broke through Will’s gloomy thoughts.

  ‘Is now a good time, Jack? Or should I come back later?’

  The whole team turned around. Standing behind them in an Australian shirt and cap was Glenn Maxwell. Will’s eyes lit up.

  ‘Actually, now’s perfect. This lot could use some encouragement before the game.’

  Maxi gave Will a big grin, then faced the junior squad.

  ‘So how do you guys like England? Pitches are a little different here, aren’t they?’

  There were some nods of agreement.

  ‘Look, I just wanted to come along today – seeing that you’re in Hampshire territory – to wish you good luck for the game and to say how impressed I am with how far some of you have come with your T20 cricket.’ He looked directly at some of the Victorian boys that he had witnessed try out for the academy.

  ‘Now, things might not be going exactly to plan for you guys in terms of making the finals, but the best piece of advice I can give in this situation is for you to just hang in there. T20 … it’s a funny game. It’s only 20 overs – that’s pretty short. Sometimes when those little moments don’t go your way – when you have a bad over or there’s an unlucky call – the game gets away from you. Every team I’ve played for has had their share of disappointing losses. But the great thing about T20 is that when you do have these losses, you don’t have to wait long for the next game. All you need to do is shake off the loss and put it behind you.’

  The boys nodded again. It made sense. They just had to put their loss out of their minds and focus on the next game, their next great performance.

  ‘Come on! Stand up and shake it off!’ he said.

  The boys looked around at each other, wondering if Glenn was serious.

  ‘Seriously, guys – stand up!’

  The boys slowly got to their feet, smiling a little and looking bashful.

  ‘Now, boys, let’s shake off that loss.’

  Glenn demonstrated by shaking his whole body. The boys laughed – Maxi looked so ridiculous – but soon they were shaking along with him and every member of the team was laughing.

  ‘Now,’ said Glenn finally after the shaking and fits of giggles had subsided, ‘I promise you will not look any more ridiculous out there today than you looked just now. So get out there and rip it up!’

  The team cheered then screamed three rounds of ‘Aussie! Aussie! Aussie!’. Will grinned. Thanks to Maxi, his teammates were pumped. Was this the game where they would finally start to play as a team?

  THE MUST-WIN

  The game against Ireland was a must-win and Will was determined that no matter what, his team would do just that.

  As he sat on the bench waiting for the toss, lost in thought about just how he was going to lead his team to their win, Maxi sat down beside him.

  ‘Be bold.’

  ‘Be bored?’ Will’s ears were still ringing from Shavil screaming ‘Aussie! Aussie! Aussie! Oi! Oi! Oi!’ right in his ear.

  ‘I said be bold, Will,’ repeated Glenn. ‘The best captains that I’ve played with aren’t afraid to take risks to win games.’

  ‘But what if I take a risk and it doesn’t come off?’ asked Will, his mind still dwelling on that last over against Sri Lanka.

  ‘Sometimes you’re gonna get it wrong, Will, everyone does. But if you’re not prepared to have a go … You might as well watch your chances disappear in front of your eyes. Better to make the big calls and know you had the guts to go for the win when it counted than to not take any risks at all.’

  Will nodded and listened intently, trying to take in every word as Maxi gave him some more tips.

  ‘Oh, Will – one more thing,’ said Glenn. ‘Batting at The Rose Bowl usually means a quick outfield and good batting conditions – but it’s going to be even quicker later in the day after the moisture’s all dried up. Think about it, if you win the toss.’ Glenn punched Will playfully on the arm.

  ‘Thanks, Maxi,’ said Will. He looked up and saw the umpire calling him in for the toss. Quickly he grabbed a b
lack marker and wrote on his arm, so that he would see it and remember it throughout the game:

  Be bold.

  Quick, thought Will. What else did Maxi just tell me?

  Change up the field. Don’t let the batsmen settle in.

  Talk to each other: use some play calls so that the fielders know what’s coming and can move into position.

  Be tactical: when batting, use the wind and the short boundaries and when bowling, try to make them hit into the wind and cut off their short boundary options.

  Of course, Will couldn’t fit all that on his arm so under ‘Be bold’ he wrote:

  Change up. Talk. Boundary.

  Will got up from the bench and started walking to the middle for the toss, thinking about the tips he’d written on his arm.

  And he decided to take his first big risk. When he won the toss, he chose to bowl. Then he took his second big risk: he decided to bowl the first over himself.

  ‘What are you doing, Will?’ groaned Darren. ‘I always open the bowling.’

  ‘Not today, Darren. If their openers get on top of both our quicks, they’ll be hard to stop. They won’t be expecting spin first.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘No,’ admitted Will. ‘But we’re going to have to take some risks if we want to win.’

  When Will bowled the first ball a little wide and it disappeared over the boundary rope, he began to doubt himself.

  Toby didn’t even try to hide his feelings. He cursed loudly from his position at slip. The rest of the players stared back accusingly at Will – even Shavil looked a bit reproachful.

  What have I done? thought Will.

  Suddenly, he had a vision of standing before hundreds of people at the Tower of London, listening to the charges against him: ‘Will Albright, you are accused of the crime of terrible captaincy.’ The crowd roared. ‘Off with his head! Off with his head!’