Ian ConstantineThe day I bowled Steve Waugh
October 14th 2008 03:21
It was a hot sunny weekend in Newcastle in the early 90s. The all conquering West Indies side led by Richie Richardson was in town to play the traditional warm-up match against NSW at Number One Sports Ground. As a kid, it doesn’t get any better than that! Both teams were laced with stars and it could easily have constituted a Test Match.
As a young whippersnapper from north of Newcastle, I had always played cricket but never had the opportunity to see top class cricket in the flesh –
Sydney always seemed just a little too far away to travel. So when the likes of Curtly Ambrose, Courtney Walsh, Carl Hooper, Desmond Haynes and a young Brian Lara came to town, I simply refused to take no for an answer. I had to be there from ball one.
Not to mention the NSW team had the likes of the Waugh brothers, Mark Taylor, Brad McNamara (a personal favourite back in those days), Richard CheQuee and Greg ‘Mo’ Matthews… I just had to be there. Guys who I had watched religiously on television were now on the boundary rope signing autographs. It is one of my greatest childhood memories. As the older generation enjoyed something that I was not accustomed to by the case, I was left to my own devices, chasing around the ground mimicking my heroes and the eternal and endless quest for autographs.
If they were on the field, I had to have their signature, it didn’t matter if I had no idea who they were, they were playing my future sport and therefore they were important!
So as the weird flowing amber substance oozed freely and excitedly across the ground, seemingly affecting everyone in its path, especially people with bigger guts than Santa Clause, while an unusual warm aroma that I would not come to enjoy for another decade permeated the ground, I was where I belonged, at the cricket watching my idols do battle.
After a while I noticed people gathered in the nets area, I couldn’t believe it, there was Steve Waugh padded up and going through his routine before he was due to stride towards the theatre that is the centre of a cricket field.
I watched, unblinking, undistracted, mesmerized, transfixed on every movement. Everything hit the middle of the bat and every time he played a cut shot, or the ball tinged of the bat through the covers, the gathered crowd would gasp in awe. Was there a real game going on out in the middle? Did it even matter anymore? It was the prodical son, in the flesh, mere metres from where I was standing, going through the very routine I did once a week at the local nets. If it was good enough for him, then it was more than enough for me!
But then shock horror, a ball bounces off the net and rolls towards my feet… What was I to do? The area around the bowlers was fenced off with a rope, I didn’t dare step across this sacred barrier?
A guy wearing a NSW polo signaled for me to come in and pick it up… Was I dreaming? I wasn’t about to wait around, I gleefully ducked under the rope much to the bemusement of the crowd around me. What had actually happened was that Steve Waugh was not wearing a helmet and the bowlers had been instructed not to drop anything short… Eventually a young upstart decided to make a name for himself and dropped one in… It is probably the only hook shot I have ever seen Waugh play, but let me tell you I to this day haven’t heard a ball hit sweeter! It was absolutely crunched! As if Waugh was making a point, how dare you bounce me! Anyways, the ball rolled to my feet and the bowler was yelled down by staff and told to leave…
And so it was that I was then allowed to bowl to Steve Waugh for 10 minutes, as long as I didn’t interfere with the stock bowlers…
Manfully, I marked out my run-up and proceeded to bowl what I estimate must have been about 20 odd balls at the future Australian captain. Can you imagine that?
So Waugh practiced all the shots in his repertoire, drives, leg-glances, square drives… I was getting carved all over the place, but I didn’t care… Why would I? He was my idol and had carved up the great Curtly Ambrose! I was a good four metres shorter than Ambrose…
Anyways, the call came out that there were only a few balls left to be bowled, he was getting ready to return to the sheds and rest before the real innings started. I remember the whole time thinking to myself, wouldn’t it be great to beat his bat, just once, to go past Steve Waugh. So I ran in with all my might, my red bowl-cut hair (thanks mum) going in all directions as I enthusiastically let go of the ball and hurled it towards my champion. It was a decent ball and was on middle stump, Steve took a giant step forward, lifted his bat above his head as if he was leaving the ball go and to my astonishment, the ball cannoned into middle stump halfway up.
It was like I had invented the Super-dooper slow motion camera right there and then, because time stood still. You know now a days when you turn on channel Nine’s cricket and all you see is that footage with the classical music underneath it that is meant to make the action more dramatic? Well it was like that in my head, the stump slowly jolted backwards and the ball was left spinning on its axis, before ballooning down to the ground.
I looked at him and he simply nodded with a little wink and threw the ball back at me… Not a word was said, nor one needed… it was the greatest sporting achievement in my lifetime.
The day I bowled Steve Waugh, a man who would go on to be one of the most successful captain’s in Australian cricket history and one of the most prolific run scorer’s the game has ever seen. But it wasn’t the stats, it was the man, the warrior, the guy who you would want batting for your life. When times got tough, Waugh got going. Who can ever forget the World Cup, or him staring down a fire breathing Ambrose on foreign soil? Was he mad? Quite possibly, but he was my hero and as a kid, it was one of the most endearing moments you could hope to come across.
And so the following day the story continues, this time the marshal saw and immediately brought me into the nets to bowl to West Indies captain Richie Richardson… but that is another story…
please note; this post was inspired by Mr Nice Guys blog Pop Culturist on best autographs Click Here
What is your greatest sporting conquest?
As a young whippersnapper from north of Newcastle, I had always played cricket but never had the opportunity to see top class cricket in the flesh –
Sydney always seemed just a little too far away to travel. So when the likes of Curtly Ambrose, Courtney Walsh, Carl Hooper, Desmond Haynes and a young Brian Lara came to town, I simply refused to take no for an answer. I had to be there from ball one.
Not to mention the NSW team had the likes of the Waugh brothers, Mark Taylor, Brad McNamara (a personal favourite back in those days), Richard CheQuee and Greg ‘Mo’ Matthews… I just had to be there. Guys who I had watched religiously on television were now on the boundary rope signing autographs. It is one of my greatest childhood memories. As the older generation enjoyed something that I was not accustomed to by the case, I was left to my own devices, chasing around the ground mimicking my heroes and the eternal and endless quest for autographs.
If they were on the field, I had to have their signature, it didn’t matter if I had no idea who they were, they were playing my future sport and therefore they were important!
So as the weird flowing amber substance oozed freely and excitedly across the ground, seemingly affecting everyone in its path, especially people with bigger guts than Santa Clause, while an unusual warm aroma that I would not come to enjoy for another decade permeated the ground, I was where I belonged, at the cricket watching my idols do battle.
After a while I noticed people gathered in the nets area, I couldn’t believe it, there was Steve Waugh padded up and going through his routine before he was due to stride towards the theatre that is the centre of a cricket field.
I watched, unblinking, undistracted, mesmerized, transfixed on every movement. Everything hit the middle of the bat and every time he played a cut shot, or the ball tinged of the bat through the covers, the gathered crowd would gasp in awe. Was there a real game going on out in the middle? Did it even matter anymore? It was the prodical son, in the flesh, mere metres from where I was standing, going through the very routine I did once a week at the local nets. If it was good enough for him, then it was more than enough for me!
But then shock horror, a ball bounces off the net and rolls towards my feet… What was I to do? The area around the bowlers was fenced off with a rope, I didn’t dare step across this sacred barrier?
Brave or stupid? Funny how those two coincide
A guy wearing a NSW polo signaled for me to come in and pick it up… Was I dreaming? I wasn’t about to wait around, I gleefully ducked under the rope much to the bemusement of the crowd around me. What had actually happened was that Steve Waugh was not wearing a helmet and the bowlers had been instructed not to drop anything short… Eventually a young upstart decided to make a name for himself and dropped one in… It is probably the only hook shot I have ever seen Waugh play, but let me tell you I to this day haven’t heard a ball hit sweeter! It was absolutely crunched! As if Waugh was making a point, how dare you bounce me! Anyways, the ball rolled to my feet and the bowler was yelled down by staff and told to leave…
And so it was that I was then allowed to bowl to Steve Waugh for 10 minutes, as long as I didn’t interfere with the stock bowlers…
Manfully, I marked out my run-up and proceeded to bowl what I estimate must have been about 20 odd balls at the future Australian captain. Can you imagine that?
So Waugh practiced all the shots in his repertoire, drives, leg-glances, square drives… I was getting carved all over the place, but I didn’t care… Why would I? He was my idol and had carved up the great Curtly Ambrose! I was a good four metres shorter than Ambrose…
Anyways, the call came out that there were only a few balls left to be bowled, he was getting ready to return to the sheds and rest before the real innings started. I remember the whole time thinking to myself, wouldn’t it be great to beat his bat, just once, to go past Steve Waugh. So I ran in with all my might, my red bowl-cut hair (thanks mum) going in all directions as I enthusiastically let go of the ball and hurled it towards my champion. It was a decent ball and was on middle stump, Steve took a giant step forward, lifted his bat above his head as if he was leaving the ball go and to my astonishment, the ball cannoned into middle stump halfway up.
It was like I had invented the Super-dooper slow motion camera right there and then, because time stood still. You know now a days when you turn on channel Nine’s cricket and all you see is that footage with the classical music underneath it that is meant to make the action more dramatic? Well it was like that in my head, the stump slowly jolted backwards and the ball was left spinning on its axis, before ballooning down to the ground.
I looked at him and he simply nodded with a little wink and threw the ball back at me… Not a word was said, nor one needed… it was the greatest sporting achievement in my lifetime.
The day I bowled Steve Waugh, a man who would go on to be one of the most successful captain’s in Australian cricket history and one of the most prolific run scorer’s the game has ever seen. But it wasn’t the stats, it was the man, the warrior, the guy who you would want batting for your life. When times got tough, Waugh got going. Who can ever forget the World Cup, or him staring down a fire breathing Ambrose on foreign soil? Was he mad? Quite possibly, but he was my hero and as a kid, it was one of the most endearing moments you could hope to come across.
And so the following day the story continues, this time the marshal saw and immediately brought me into the nets to bowl to West Indies captain Richie Richardson… but that is another story…
please note; this post was inspired by Mr Nice Guys blog Pop Culturist on best autographs Click Here
What is your greatest sporting conquest?
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Comment by Mr Nice Guy
Pop Culturist
Pop Rock Factory
As far as sporting conquests go - yours really does take the cake (next to outrunning Phar Lap I guess).
While I've had my fair slice of luck as far as sports is concerned (as opposed to any huge amount of ability) - I am secretly proud of the fact that I managed to beat Robert de Castella across the line in the 14km City To Surf one year.
Fortunately I kept the results so I could spruik about something in my old age.
. . . Andy coming in to bowl to Waugh at the Paddington end . . . yes . . . got em!
Nice
Comment by sportsbar
Fret X
That is no mean feat! Outrunning the great Castella... although it says you beat him across the line...
The only way I could 'beat' him across the line would be on a bike...
But that is up there for sure!