My Family's Keeper

by Brad Haddin

  If it was possible, there was even more pressure than usual on the national team going into the 2010 series. Not since 1988 had Australia lost three Tests in a row, as we had just done. Then again, England hadn’t won the Ashes in Australia since 1986–87. Going into the First Test at the Gabba, there was a huge amount at stake for the whole team: for Ricky Ponting, whose captaincy was once again under the microscope; for me wanting to prove I was back better than ever; and for Mike Hussey, who had been struggling for a year to perform the way he wanted to (in the lead-up to the game Dean Jones, at it again, said publicly he would rather wash his car than watch Huss bat).

  England won the toss and went in to bat but soon wished they hadn’t as Peter Siddle gave himself a birthday present in the form of the first Ashes hat-trick by an Australian bowler since Shane Warne had achieved the feat 16 years earlier, and he went on to a remarkable 6 for 54. We had them all out for 260. Our openers, Shane Watson and Simon Katich, started well, but England fought back and when I went in to partner Huss, on 32, we were in trouble, on 5 for 143. We both had a huge amount to prove and we were ready to go. We played strategically and with restraint until the scores were level, then I let loose. Richie Benaud called it the most valuable innings I’d played for Australia to date. It was a fierce contest — the Poms didn’t give an inch — but Huss and I were in charge. There was pure electricity in hitting Graeme Swann for six to bring up my century. When I finally got out for 136 (after being dropped by Cook on 63) we’d put on 307 runs — a Gabba partnership record and the 15th highest stand in Australia’s Test history. (Huss went three overs later for an absolutely massive 195.)

  The six hours we spent out there together were so enjoyable — neither of us would have been anywhere else for quids. There’s nowhere to hide in an arena like that and if you allow any sign of weakness it will be exploited mercilessly. We didn’t crack as we stood up to some of the best bowling I’ve ever faced. The banter was fierce on both sides, which only added to the fun, although I had to break it to Jimmy Anderson that whatever niggles he was trying to get in were totally lost on me because I couldn’t understand a thing he said in his thick Lancashire accent.

  It’s worth making a note here about banter on the field. Some people refer to it as sledging, but that’s not what was happening between the England players and us. It was gamesmanship, pure and simple. Gamesmanship involves trying to switch your opponent’s focus to put them off their game. Sledging is personal abuse. If my early years in cricket had been spent playing on a vicarage lawn between rounds of cucumber sandwiches, I might not have been comfortable engaging in gamesmanship, but it’s how I was taught to play and it’s part of the uncompromising style of the game that is the hallmark of the Australian team. You respect the opposition, you respect the officials and you play within the rules, but you’re out there to win and you use whatever you can within the rules to do that.

  One of the things you can use to your advantage is a break in your opponent’s concentration. Sometimes you can achieve that without even saying a word directly to him. As a keeper, you might be having a chat to first slip between deliveries, talking about something completely unrelated to the game, cracking funny lines. You’re seemingly talking between yourselves but really it’s for the batsman’s benefit. You’re wanting to see him smile or even laugh: if he does, you know you’ve got him. He has tuned in to your conversation, which means he’s lost his own focus, however briefly. The chances of him making a mistake have just shot up.

  Other times you do talk directly to your opponent. But there’s always a very clear line you don’t cross. You can talk about their performance all you like but you never, ever say anything personal or bring family into it. If you ever heard one of your teammates doing that you’d pull them up straight away, saying, ‘Mate, that’s not on; it’s not how we play the game.’ And part and parcel of gamesmanship is that you’ve got to be able to cop it right back. That’s only fair. Personally, when those tactics were directed against me I recognised them for what they were and they didn’t bother or distract me.

  Nothing the Poms could say pulled Huss or me out of the moment and our effort lifted Australia to a first innings total of 481, putting England 221 runs behind. Talk about a turnaround in perception. He and I were all over the media in headlines like ‘Whipping Boys to Pom Bashers’, ‘Bats out of Hell’ and ‘Tons of Respect’. The commentators were so sure the match was ours they practically had their wrap-ups written, but sport doesn’t work that way. That’s the reason it’s endlessly fascinating, because you never really know what’s going to happen. It turned out we weren’t the only ones who could set records. We were absolutely sure Andrew Strauss was gone lbw to Ben Hilfenhaus in the very first ball, but Aleem Dar ruled no and Strauss and Alistair Cook went on to a 188-run partnership. We finally got Strauss out for 110, only to have Jonathan Trott come out and make a 329-run partnership with Cook. England declared at 1 for 517. With 41 overs to play, Shane Watson and Ricky Ponting reduced the 297 deficit to 170 before we declared, resulting in a draw. We’d bowled so well in the first innings and fought back so effectively with the bat that not being able to claim the win was very frustrating, especially because of how important the first-match win is in setting the tone for the series.

  As disappointing as that was, the Second Test in Adelaide was worse — much worse. We chose to bat first and proceeded to make the worst start to a Test innings in 60 years, at 3 for 2. Shane Watson and I dug in for half-centuries and Huss almost got another century, but we couldn’t do it on our own and England answered our first innings 245 with 625, helped by too many dropped catches from us. England outplayed us, winning the game by an innings and 71 runs. Rain started just half an hour after we lost our final wicket; if we’d been able to hang in there for that time we would at least have had a draw. Again, the frustration level was high, as was the disappointment at playing so far below our best, but we had to leave it behind us and get ready for the next game.

  England are traditionally very uncomfortable playing on the WACA pitch, so the Third Test in Perth should have been ours for the taking. But here too our top order collapsed after England sent us in to bat. Once again Michael Hussey and I dug in, getting 61 and 53 respectively — though it was Mitchell Johnson who top-scored, nudging one run over Huss, with his fellow fast-bowler Pete Siddle adding a valuable 35 not out. Once bowling, Johnno was unstoppable, taking 6 for 38 to finish England off before tea on the second day. Huss and Shane Watson’s efforts in the second innings and Ryan Harris’s 6 for 47 put us out of the Poms’ reach and our 267-run win levelled the series. We were all too aware that if we’d managed to get that draw in Adelaide we’d have had a 1–0 lead, but even so we emerged with our positive energy recharged, determined to win at the MCG.

  But the Boxing Day Test turned out to be one of those games you wish had been a bad dream. The Christmas celebrations for the families were lovely and it was special to have Karina and our two little ones there, but it was all downhill after that in Melbourne. Ryan Harris fractured his ankle in a run-up; frustration about umpires’ decision-making and the way they were using the video technology saw Punter fined 40 per cent of his match fee; and we went into the second innings 415 runs behind. Sidds and I refused to go down without a fight, building an 86-run partnership on the fourth day, but after he went for 40 and Ben Hilfenhaus got a duck, I’d run out of partners on 55. It was all over. Not just the match, but our campaign. England’s win meant they retained the trophy. The whole team felt sick about losing another Ashes campaign.

  We had the chance to claw back a bit of pride in Sydney; however, the New Year’s Eve fireworks, enjoyed with all our families, was the only bright spot. Punter was out with an injured finger (I’d heard the noise when it broke in Perth as he went for a catch alongside me in the slips cordon; he’d damaged it further in Melbourne), so Michael Clarke took over captain duties and I was vice-captain. The harder the team tried, the worse we played and England thrashed
us again, winning by an innings and 83 runs, leaving us drained and disheartened.

  Yet the one-day series against England that ran from mid-January 2011 into February was a different story. Here we could barely put a foot wrong, winning six of the seven games. That boded well for the ICC Cricket World Cup, which started just two weeks later in India, with games also played in Bangladesh and Sri Lanka, where Karina, Zac and Mia visited me. While Zac was racking up stamps in his passport, it was Mia’s first flight, at four months old.

  After Australia’s all-conquering triple-title win in the previous World Cup, in the West Indies, expectations were high. But we were knocked out in the quarter-finals by India. The fact that they went on to win the tournament wasn’t much consolation; we were all very disappointed with the result. Ricky Ponting decided it was time to step down as captain and Michael Clarke was appointed as his successor, with Shane Watson as vice-captain. It was a real blow to lose Ricky as captain, considering the standing he had in the game and his passion for the team; none of us wanted to see him leave the captaincy that way. I thought I had a good skill-set to be considered as vice-captain; however, believing as I do that you should never lobby for leadership roles, I was comfortable with the decision the board made.

  Our last World Cup game was on 24 March. By 7 April, we were in Bangladesh playing a tour match as a warm-up for a three-game ODI series. No-one wanted to be there, not really. Like the rest of the team I was longing to get home and freshen myself up to prepare for the following season, which would start with a Test, ODI and T20I tour in Sri Lanka starting in August, followed by the same in South Africa before we even got to the Australian summer tours by New Zealand and India. Instead, here we were in a country that had its challenges for visitors, exhausted and mentally fatigued, playing more or less on autopilot.

  In the opening ODI I went forward for a low catch. The tip of my left middle finger hooked into the ground and I felt it break. I finished that game and played the next but then I talked to Tim Nielsen and decided to sit out the third game, since we had the option of using Tim Paine, who’d been sent as back-up for the World Cup and had travelled on with us.

  The finger was stable, which meant that it didn’t need surgery; it just needed time to heal over the Australian winter. But while it was healing I had to change my grip on the bat, turning my bottom hand further to take more of the weight in order to relieve the discomfort. And by the time the bone had knit, the new, slightly altered grip felt natural to me and the correct technique I’d previously used felt completely foreign. The problem with my new normal was that it constricted me as a batsman by reducing the range within which I could hit the ball. Restricting my shot choice made me vulnerable to certain balls I hadn’t been vulnerable to before and hindered the rhythm of my game. The result was inconsistency at the crease: I couldn’t get the runs I needed to as often as I needed to get them.

  It’s easy to look back now and pinpoint the problem but, even though it was clear to me quite early on that there was some kind of blockage, it took quite a while to isolate the cause. After all, we’re talking about a very subtle shift in the balance of my grip. The selectors sent a confusing message when they praised my contributions but then dropped me from the Twenty20I squad, reinstating me before the tour to Sri Lanka. We won the Test series (in which Nathan Lyon made his debut) and the ODI series but lost the T20Is. Again Karina popped over for a visit with Zac, which resulted in the appearance of baby number three, Hugo, nine months later.

  I’d been frustrated by my performance at bat in Sri Lanka and it got worse when we went to South Africa. The two-match Test series against the Proteas was a draw and we won the ODI series, but all anyone wanted to talk about was our second innings score in the First Test. We’d scored 284 first up, and bowled the Proteas out for just 96, which should have put us in the box seat. But the wicket had flattened out and we had had a shocker, not even reaching 20 by the time I came on at number six. My mindset was that we had to change the momentum of the game. I had to take a risk in an effort to move the game forward. If I could get a four they might change the field; then maybe we could scramble to 150 and then we’d have a game on our hands. I was trying to change the length of the ball when I stepped down the wicket towards a ball from Vernon Philander (who took 5 for 15 in this innings), got a flashing one and was out for a duck, one of four ducks in a total score of 47.

  Commentators described my shot as ‘reckless’ and ‘irresponsible’, which, again, just highlights the vast crevasse between what happens inside the game and how people interpret it. Of course I’d rather have succeeded and of course it stung to get out in that manner, but ‘irresponsible’ would have been if I hadn’t tried to make a breakthrough. However, part of playing at that level is living with the consequences of your choices. You have to be accountable and I didn’t shy away from that. My average over the nine Test innings we played in the Ashes had been 45; in the seven innings since then it had dropped to less than 14. The target was well and truly on my back and every mention of me in the press was linked with speculation about me being dropped (the same was true of Ricky Ponting, Mitchell Johnson and Phil Hughes).

  We were shattered after that game and had a big soul-searching team debrief. Meetings like that one were an invaluable part of our team culture. They were open forums where everyone had the opportunity to speak up. You could talk honestly about your own struggles, knowing that we were all there for one another. If someone had an observation about your playing they thought could help you, they were comfortable making it, knowing it would be taken in the right spirit. All of us were working together to make the team better. By getting everything out in the open we were able to move on, individually and as a group, and turn things around in time for the next game. In this case it was clear to us all we were selling ourselves short, not claiming those big moments, and that we needed to aim up and go into the Second Test knowing we could win it. We did exactly that, chasing down 300 for a big win, including 55 from me.

  By the time we played New Zealand in the Trans-Tasman Trophy, Cricket Australia had replaced Tim Nielsen as the national coach with South African Mickey Arthur, and John Inverarity had become chairman of selectors. I got 80 at the Gabba against the Kiwis (the series was a tie), but, frustratingly, even though I was keeping perfectly well, the fact that I wasn’t getting runs the way I wanted to meant people started looking at my keeping in a different light. Instead of the five catches I took in the Boxing Day Test against India and the three in the following game at the SCG, it was the one that got away, a missed chance on Gautam Gambhir off a James Pattinson ball, that everyone focused on. We won the series 4–0, but the pressure on me didn’t lessen and as 2011 ended and the new year began, the level of chatter about who I might be replaced with rose, with Matthew Wade’s name coming up most often.

  I simply ignored it all, just as I’d ignored the constant speculation before Gilly retired. I focused on enjoying the wins and the wonderful opportunities that came my way. One of these was being given the honour of captaining the Prime Minister’s XI game scheduled for the beginning of February 2012. It was special having 19-year-old Dean Solway, the son of my ANUCC mentor Peter Solway, as the junior player in the team. Unfortunately, the game was washed out before a ball could be bowled, but it did allow for some lovely family catch-up time, with Zac, at nearly three and a half, running round madly, and 15-month-old Mia seemingly so well and happy, toddling from one big cuddle to another.

  Right around this time I was taken out of the Australian one-day team for a tri-series against India and Sri Lanka and Matthew Wade put in. Initially, John Inverarity insisted I was just being rested because of my ‘heavy workload’. But I knew I’d been dropped, and said so when I was asked about it on radio. It took almost three weeks for Cricket Australia to admit it. If you’re not performing, you get dropped; it’s simple. It happens to everyone at some point and there shouldn’t be any nonsense or drama about it. Everyone just needs to be upfron
t. They tell you you’re out and you set about fighting your way back in. Life goes on.

  I was still firmly part of the Test team for the upcoming tour of the West Indies. I was working intensively with my batting coach Mark O’Neill. We’d figured out where things had gone wrong with my grip and I’d put a huge effort into changing it. The six weeks or so I spent not playing ODI games was, in fact, a great help in that it gave me extra time to work on it. As our departure for the Caribbean approached, it all came together. I saw the improvement in a couple of grade games early in the season and then came a game where everything fell into place and I had my full range of shots back, both sides of the wicket, smooth and powerful. The problem was completely fixed, my rhythm had returned. I was confident and focused, certain that I had returned to a form with the bat that would silence the critics and see me back in the one-day team as well as the Test squad.

  Karina and the kids and I made the most of our time together before I departed. I was going to miss them, as I was scheduled to be away for almost three months before returning at the beginning of May in time for Hugo’s birth. But they’d have some pleasant distractions while I was gone, including a summer holiday at Nelson Bay with Karina’s family. Mia seemed a bit out of sorts at this point, but it didn’t appear to be anything to worry about. Karina said she’d take her along to the doctor if she didn’t pick up soon.