Underneath the Southern Cross

by Michael Hussey

  When we had about 40 to win, the crowd started yelling out, ‘one of youse get out! We want Hussey!’

  I really didn’t want to bat now. I said to Mickey, ‘Can you get someone on the loudspeaker to tell them to be quiet?’

  When Pup got out, I felt bad, because he was the Australian captain and people were cheering. I didn’t think that was right.

  The game was there to be won, or lost. I raced out there and got on with it. Unlike in my previous couple of innings, I had the feeling that this was my day. The ball was finding the middle of the bat, even though it was spinning a lot. I was in control of my thoughts. I really enjoyed it.

  We played some extra time to get the result before tea, but Mitch Johnson and I couldn’t quite get there. I wasn’t fussed. I enjoyed the twenty minutes off. In the break, Channel Nine played a tribute piece. I didn’t want to watch it and get emotional, so I walked into another room and spent the break alone. All the boys were watching it, except me.

  Soon after we went back out into the middle, I was facing Herath. They’d left cover open to tempt me into the big drive and get bowled by a ball spinning in out of the rough. I didn’t want to expose one of the other guys waiting to bat, by trying to finish it with one big blow. Herath put one there, and I pushed it for a quick single. That would be the last ball I faced in Test cricket, and I finished how I got a lot of my runs, just wanting to get the job done in a professional manner.

  Mitch came down the wicket. ‘Huss, I don’t want to hit the winning runs.’

  I said, ‘I don’t care. If the ball’s there, get it over with.’

  That didn’t go down well with him. He pushed one into a gap, but didn’t want to run. I charged through anyway. Mitch felt a bit bad but I said, ‘I just wanted it over.’

  The Sri Lankan players and umpires came and said some very nice words of congratulation, and I got the chance to walk around and say goodbye to the crowd. I gave our team and support staff a hug, and then went to do media. It was over. I had my last chance to sing the team song.

  Being chaired from the field by Mitchell Johnson and Peter Siddle after my retirement from international cricket on the fourth day of the third Test match between Australia and Sri Lanka at the Sydney Cricket Ground on 6 January 2013. (Photo by Mark Kolbe/Getty Images)

  While Sri Lanka were batting in their second innings, I found John Inverarity and said I didn’t want the charity match in Perth. ‘I want to be available for the whole one-day series or not at all.’

  He said, ‘That’s a good choice. Okay, well, you’re not playing then.’

  I said, ‘oh, okay.’ I felt a bit let down, but I thought, I’ve had a great finish in Sydney, for the sake of a few one-dayers it doesn’t matter in the whole scheme of things. It was a magical week and I didn’t want to taint it by wondering about the politics underneath the situation.

  I found Michael Clarke later, and told him my decision about the Perth one-dayer. He was very supportive, but still in shock about John telling me I wouldn’t be picked.

  ‘How did you not say anything?’ he said. ‘How did you not argue or disagree with him?’

  ‘I was in shock,’ I said.

  He said, ‘I was in shock too, but I couldn’t believe you didn’t say anything.’

  ‘Mate, I didn’t know what to say.’

  It was good to talk with him about it. He couldn’t say he agreed or disagreed with the selectors, which made it difficult for him. He had to present a united front. I certainly didn’t hold it against him, but it was another confirmation of my opinion that the captain is too divided in his loyalties when he is on the selection panel. Later in the year, Michael came to the view that being a selector took up too much of a captain’s time, and stood down.

  If only the aftermath of the Test match had finished there, and we’d gone on and had a routine celebration! What happened over the next few hours and days didn’t detract one iota from the joy and satisfaction I gained from my last day with the Australian team. I want to make that clear. Nothing was blemished. But there was a matter that became annoying, because it showed a disappointing side of a very small minority of the Australian public.

  During the last Test, Gavin Dovey told me Pup had organised a night out on James Packer’s boat several months in advance. It was a reward for the boys at the end of the summer, to thank them for their efforts and go out and celebrate in style on Sydney Harbour. When the arrangement was made, of course nobody had known it would be my last Test. I hadn’t known it myself.

  It turned out that no children would be allowed on the boat, for safety reasons. That was quite understandable. Partners were allowed, but we had all four of our kids in Sydney, and extended family and friends too. Amy and I both wanted to be with them and didn’t want to leave the kids.

  All this was pretty straightforward to me. I said to Gavin, ‘I just want some hours to celebrate with the boys in the dressing room. I don’t want to stop them from having the celebration on the boat.’ It was a great opportunity for the team. We did it in 2006–07, and it was brilliant. I said, ‘I reckon the boat will be great for the boys, but after we have our time in the dressing room as a team, I’ll have my time with the family.’

  We had a fantastic time in the dressing room. The team had organised for John Williamson to come in and sing ‘True Blue’ to us. It was a live-in-person way of calling the team song.

  Afterwards, the team presented me with a watch and had organised another gift. A few people spoke some really nice words, and then the time came for everyone to go: the team to the boat, and me to my family.

  When we got back to the hotel, the boys had to be downstairs in half an hour to assemble for the boat trip. A few of the support staff had children, so we were all going to meet at the mezzanine and have some pizzas.

  Unfortunately, when they came down to leave, some of the boys didn’t know about my conversation with Gavin and assumed I was going on the boat. Peter Siddle and Nathan Lyon came up to the mezzanine and said, ‘What’s going on? Aren’t you coming?’

  I said, ‘I’m staying with the family, but I want you to go, you’ll have a great time.’

  Sidds, who was now a teetotaller, decided to stay at the hotel. I talked Nathan into going. ‘It’ll be a great experience, you’re part of the team going forward, go on, have a good time.’

  As far as the celebrations were concerned, I was more than happy. We’d had our time in the dressing room. The night came and went, and I went to bed a very happy man. Everything had turned out as I wanted.

  Or had it? The next morning, I woke up to a phone message from Gavin saying, ‘I really want to talk to you in the morning.’

  I thought, Oh no, what’s happened, and called him in a panic to ask what it was about.

  ‘Come and have a chat,’ he said.

  I had no idea what had gone on, and was quite flustered when I met him downstairs at the hotel.

  Gavin said, ‘I’m a bit concerned that a couple of the players were really disappointed that you didn’t go on the boat. They thought the team should have stayed with you, whereas others thought they should have gone on the boat.’

  Shane Watson and Peter Siddle, he said, had told him the team shouldn’t have gone on the boat without me. I said, ‘We’ve been through this, I’ve told you I had no problems with the guys going on the boat.’

  He said, ‘We both know that, but the boys didn’t know that, and we’re worried it’ll cause divisions in the team going forward.’

  I agreed that we needed them all on the same page, so I spoke to Watto and Sidds and calmly explained the process, telling them the boat had been arranged months before, I didn’t have any issues and it was all above board. Sidds was fine. He said it was a bit disappointing that the whole team didn’t stay with me, but he accepted it. Watto was not so accepting. He was adamant that the team should have changed its plans and stuck with me.

  I kept telling him, ‘Look, I had no problems, it was fine.’

 
It shouldn’t have been an issue. But a week or so later an email turned up, written by someone who clearly had it in for Michael Clarke.

  For what it’s worth, here’s an edited version of the relevant parts of the email:

  Mike [Hussey] apparently was promised at a minimum two one-dayers in the oDI series, in Perth. He was promised this on the back of ‘best available’ talk. It is probably worth mentioning that a lot of the players are a bit scared of Clarke in terms of the fact that he is a selector now, so they avoid trying to piss him off. Anyways at some point Clarke called Mike over (after the end of play) and asked if he could have a word. In this discussion he told Mike that he wouldn’t be playing because they were ‘looking to the future’. Mike asked about best available side and all that shit and Clarke said, ‘You can have a lap of honour before we play the oDI in Perth’, to which Mike told him to shove his lap up his ass.

  Cricket Australia didn’t want to announce the axing, but certain members of the Hussey camp ‘accidentally’ dropped the hint to journos around the country. Clarkey wasn’t happy about this and I guess it set the tone for the following couple of days (this was after play day 3 from memory).

  So then the day before the game finished, Mike was asked by Clarke what he wanted to do for his last game, and he said that he wanted to just sit in the change rooms and get pissed with the team and the entire support staff. Michael Clarke then proceeded the following day to organise to go on James Packer’s massive boat (which they could do any time for the next 3 days) but he wanted to go that evening the Test ended.

  As a side note, they all get pretty expensive retirement gifts from the team, and Mike (being in charge of the song) will change the ipod to John Williamson’s ‘True Blue’ – this is when the team knows to get in a huddle to sing the team song. Anyways, someone turned the music off, and Mike started complaining that someone had f--ed the ipod up … next minute John Williamson walks in singing ‘True Blue’ … thought that was pretty cool. So anyway, Clarke tried to turn it and say ‘I did this for you, Mike’ (the boat) when he already knew Mike didn’t want to go to the boat, he wanted to get pissed in the change rooms. So at the end of the day everyone is in the change room drinking, Clarke had left early because he wanted to go on the boat, and some players (including Warner) left as well. When it was time to leave for the boat a couple of players asked Mike if he was coming, and Mike was like, ‘Nah, go have fun, I will stay and celebrate with my family and the support staff’. Nathan Lyon (Mike’s best friend in the team) said ‘F-- that, if Huss isn’t going, I’m not going’. Then Watto said the same. As vice-captain, that meant that a lot, because the players came back to the room and were gonna bail on the boat, because they weren’t worried as much about Clarke losing it.

  So the next minute they get word that Clarke has made the boat an ‘official Cricket Australia function’, which means the players get in trouble for not attending. This forced a lot of the players to leave. Siddle and Lyon and the support staff were the only ones left from what I understand, absolutely petty and s-- form from Clarke considering that they could have gone on the boat the following night.

  So in the end Mike, his family and the support staff stayed in the rooms. Mike then woke up with a voicemail from Clarke which abused the s-- out of him for leaking to the media and about how he didn’t go on the boat with the players. Then Clarke put David Warner on the phone, who abused the s-- out of him as well. Mike just took it in his stride and didn’t respond, and the next morning in the lobby of the hotel Clarke wouldn’t even look at him. Mike apparently said, ‘Hey Clarkey, one day you’ll know,’ and that was the last words they had exchanged.

  Mike was referring to the fact that Clarke … can’t understand why Mike is retiring (young family etc).

  The next thing I knew, I got a call from Paul Marsh at the ACA saying, ‘This email’s been circulating. Is there any merit in it?’

  The point in reprinting it is to show how wrong it was. I’ve been asked about it by so many people, it’s worthwhile to address thoroughly.

  First, I was never ‘promised’ a ‘victory lap’ at the WACA or two one-dayers.

  Second, it was John Inverarity, not Michael Clarke, who made the offer of a one-day match as a farewell. As I recounted above, the conversations were between me and John. Michael was very empathetic to my situation, and I certainly did not tell him to stick anything up his ass.

  Third, there was no ‘leak’ from the ‘Hussey camp’ to anyone. I didn’t even know there was a ‘Hussey camp’! The email named the source as Amy’s brother, who’s a lovely twenty-year-old knockabout kid. He had been on the trip to help us out with the children, and was drawn into this innocently.

  Fourth, the boat trip had been organised months in advance, not the same day, and there was no flexibility. By no means was it arranged in defiance of my wishes to spend time with the team in the dressing room.

  Fifth, there was no call from Michael Clarke (or David Warner) abusing me about leaking information. The only call I had from anyone in the team was on the night, when a few of them got on the phone after a few more beers and said they wished I was there. It was all very light-hearted.

  Sixth, there was no conversation or encounter of any kind between me and Michael Clarke the following day. That was pure fiction.

  I could just ignore the whole thing and consign the email to the trash bin, where it belongs. But I’d never been targeted like that before, so it was an upsetting thing to have to go through.

  It was hurtful on a number of levels. It put a dampener on what was otherwise a great time for me and the team. And I was worried it would affect my relationship with Michael. As soon as I saw it, I rang him and left a message and said, ‘There’s this email floating around; it’s a pack of lies and I had nothing to do with it.’

  When we eventually spoke, he was angry about this email. He’s had his image attacked at different times and is used to it, but he was angry to see that someone close to the team had been a source, giving the writer enough grains of truth – the John Williamson story, the boat, and so on – for them to think they were onto something. It must have come from someone close to the team, and that was what worried him. Michael’s manager tracked it back to a guy in the Sydney financial markets who’d been at the cricket getting drunk every day, heard some gossip and decided to write this email. I didn’t know this guy, and nor did anyone in my family. He was just using my situation as a vehicle to drive a grudge he had against Michael.

  If it wasn’t hurtful, and public knowledge, it would be laughable. This person had a few dots, but when he joined them, he formed a picture that was wildly off the mark.

  I don’t want to hide from it because I know the truth. The truth doesn’t reflect badly on everyone – we were all trying to do the right thing. There was a miscommunication about what I wanted to do on the night, but these things happen. If it said anything, the whole affair confirmed, first of all, that there are some nasty pieces of work out there, and secondly, that communications and trust among the close cricket fraternity were not what they could have been. This lack of trust came to the surface when the team went to India and England later in the year.

  When the Australian team went to India and lost the Test series 4–0, there were calls to ‘Bring back Hussey’. I find this flattering, but they were probably coming from the same people who, if I’d gone and struggled with the bat, would have been calling ‘Hussey’s got to go.’ That’s the nature of the game. All I knew was that I was finished with international cricket. When I saw the boys struggling with the spin of Ravi Ashwin and Ravindra Jadeja, I wasn’t missing it and certainly didn’t think I could have done any better. When each wicket fell, I was thinking, Gee it looks like really hard work out there.

  I haven’t had a moment’s regret about retiring. Perhaps the timing could have been better from the team’s point of view, but that’s only if I was still eager to play. I wasn’t anymore. The 2013 year could easily have turned into
a cricketing nightmare for me. Being away from home for months on end playing some really tough cricket where you need to be 100 per cent committed to the training, travel and games is something I was not prepared to do. My worry was that I would let myself, the team and the country down if my heart was not fully up for those challenges.

  My thoughts were turning to life after cricket. I was playing another season with the Chennai Super Kings, which I thought would be my last. It may seem strange that I quit international cricket to spend time with my family, only to go to India for two months. But it was two months of hard work, and then I could spend all of the winter months at home while the boys would be locked in a massive Ashes battle in England.

  Amy also agreed that going cold turkey on cricket mightn’t be the best thing for me. I’ve given my life to this great game. To suddenly turn the switch off might be too big a shock. So the IPL, and the Big Bash League, are my ways of phasing out gradually, as I’ve seen players such as Gilly and Warnie do.

  I’ve loved all my seasons with CSK. The Twenty20 game fascinates me, which is a surprise. I’ve seen the format evolve and improve. When we started, it was, ‘Go out there and swing, play it like it’s the last five overs of an oDI.’

  These days, a lot more thought goes into it. At CSK my plan was for the first two overs just to play normally and get ourselves in, and then go hard on the last four overs of the first powerplay. Then we would consolidate again until the 12th or 13th overs, from which it was, ‘Hit out or get out, as we have some fantastic hitters like Dhoni, Bravo, Morkel and Jadeja to come in and finish the innings off.’ That’s how we set up our batting plan. The bowlers have become a lot smarter too and have brought the scores down by experimenting with different types of balls like wide yorkers, slower-ball bouncers, and slower balls. You don’t know what’s coming next.

  I tend to agree that the interests of the crowds are put above those of the players – you don’t spend your life playing and training so that you can bowl for four overs or bat for 20 balls – but Twenty20 has been fantastic for the game by introducing cricket to young kids, women, and people who like a short, fun format. Once they’ve fallen in love with that format, they might follow the longer game. It gets a volume of people in. In Australia, the competition from other sports is so high, you need to keep working to attract audiences.