Bucking the Trend

by Chris Rogers

  Nathan’s role was important as well, working in concert with the quicks and taking plenty of wickets along the way. Another memory of the Gabba is in the second innings, Matt Prior cutting an early boundary and saying something like ‘get used to it’. Next over, of course, Nathan got him out for the second time in the match. All the bravado that England had built up over a few years, and brought with them to Australia, was just being washed away in the course of a single match. In the dressing rooms after, Nathan, who had inherited the position of songmaster for the singing of ‘Underneath the Southern Cross’, got to lead the singing for the first time – and I was singing it for the first time. There was a moment there when we looked around at each other all thinking the same thing: ‘We’ve got these blokes.’

  In Adelaide, Hadds followed up his 94 in Brisbane with a hundred alongside Michael Clarke, who had himself reached three figures alongside Davey Warner in the second innings in Brisbane. Hadds had a series almost as remarkable as Mitch, although in a strange way the misfortunes of the batting order may actually have favoured him. Quite often he came to the crease around the 40 to 50-over mark, which gave him that valuable 30 or 40 overs to bat against the older ball and set himself for when the second new ball came around. Sometimes No.6 or 7 can be very tricky, because suddenly you’re up against a new ball late in the day. But the top order’s misadventures helped Hadds in that regard, because those second 40 overs with an older ball in Australia is often the best time to bat.

  For my part, I was intent on soaking up plenty of balls early even if I wasn’t in the best scoring form. So after facing 81 balls in the second innings in Brisbane, I stayed out there for 167 in the first innings in Adelaide, 135 second innings in Perth, 171 and 155 in Melbourne, then 169 to round it off in the second innings in Sydney. The runs I made were useful, but in consistently taking the shine off the ball and hanging around I was doing the job I’d been chosen for. That, in turn, helped Hadds to strut his stuff down the order.

  It was certainly more pleasant knowing I didn’t have to deal with Mitch and company on the middle. The way Michael used the bowling attack was a really good lesson for me in terms of making the most of high pace. Mitch would only bowl three- or four-over spells, and Michael would make sure he kept him fresh enough for the arrival of the tail. At Somerset I’ve tried something similar with Jamie Overton, and on a couple of occasions seen a similar effect – you can just blow the opposition away and be batting before you know it. In the case of Mitch, new ball or old ball didn’t really matter, as he showed to devastating effect in Adelaide.

  Over the course of that Ashes series and the tour to South Africa that followed, Mitch reached a level of speed, accuracy and intimidation that I’ve never seen before or since. It was the difference between bowling very quick and absolute lightning, and it made plenty of great players look ordinary. The only player through this period who was able to play him with any consistency was AB de Villiers, which tells you something about his level of skill. But every other batsman struggled. Perhaps his most terrifying spells were at Centurion Park in South Africa on a pitch with pace and uneven bounce. In the first innings he got Graeme Smith, Alviro Petersen and Faf du Plessis in quick succession, and in the huddle we were looking at each other thinking ‘these guys are good players, and he’s making them look poor’. I played with lots of exceptional players, but I’ve never seen a cricketer have a period as incredible as that.

  When Mitch bowled Cook in Adelaide, it was symptomatic of the trouble I’d had in the nets. You’ll often see a bowler get the ball swinging and maybe see it clip the outside of the off stump, as was the case when Rhino got Joe Root at Durham in 2013. But this one thudded right into the middle of the off stump, because a lot of guys, whether it was us in the nets or England’s guys in the middle, were trying to cover for a short ball coming in at the body. That stayed with me, because it showed how his pace was affecting technical set-ups as well as minds. That was backed up when England folded in a flurry of hook shots to go 2–0 down.

  That meant we needed only to win in Perth to regain the Ashes, and I gave us the worst possible start by running myself out in search of a single – my life in the West is seldom dull. It didn’t help that Jimmy Anderson running me out in the second over of a match was perhaps one of the best pieces of fielding by a fast bowler in the history of the game.

  I’d got to 11 in very good fashion, and walking off I realised I’d not only blown a perfect start on an easy pitch, I might well have blown my Test career. Immediately the scribes had a talking point and much was made of my scores – 1, 16, 72, 2, 11 – in this series. As the pressure built and my age kept getting mentioned, I realised my hope of playing a Boxing Day Test in front of my adopted home crowd could be shattered.

  The evening of the second day happened to be the date of a big birthday party for my mother, Ros. She had flown back to Perth for the match, three months after moving east with Dad to run their new project, the Village Green Cricket Ground in Strath Creek, 100 kilometres north of Melbourne. A dozen of their closest friends were celebrating her birthday at a café in Claremont – all people I had known since I was a kid. By now I was in something of a funk, and a dinner party was the last thing I wanted. But I had to go. Within five minutes I had snapped at Dad, and for the first hour, I gave one-word answers. But my one-time babysitter Judy Thomson, whose four boys I had grown up with, kept chatting away to me, my brother David and wife Nikki were in great form too, and it was just good to see Mum enjoying herself – so much so that, eventually, I relaxed.

  Yet going out to bat the next afternoon with a lead of 130, I still felt like I was batting for my Test career, and it wasn’t pretty. Up the other end Davey was in great form, and I was able to ride along in his slipstream. By the time our 150 partnership came up – to which I had contributed 50 – my touch was back. Dad told me later that he and mum were in the airport terminal waiting to return to Melbourne as I came out to bat, and for the first time in my cricket career, he couldn’t bring himself to watch, he was so nervous for me.

  The next day Shane Watson and George Bailey took to the English bowling, George equalling the record of most runs scored off one over in a Test with 28 from Anderson. Setting England a target of 504, we eventually knocked them over for 353. Finally there was a highlight for me in front of the Perth crowd, as I sprinted and dived to my right to claim a catch at mid-off to put England nine down. We enjoyed it at the time, but even more so when the chance came for a re-enactment out on the ground after Nathan Lyon led us in the team song. A beer bottle replaced the ball, and this time the celebrations were showered in plenty of other beverages.

  Before the match I’d arranged with ‘Smudger’, as we call Steve Smith, to travel down to the Raffles Hotel in Perth to have dinner with Sam Robson and Tom Scollay. ‘Robbo’ and Smudge had grown up a little together, and ‘Scolls’, Robbo and I had formed a very good friendship at Middlesex. Scolls had been a very good cricketer in his own right, but had found himself surplus to requirements at Middlesex. He’s since become one of my best friends and he and his fiancée Becca Pink have stayed at my places in Melbourne and London.

  Driving along on the way down, he let out all his frustrations and anxieties about the way his series was going, having not passed 50 in either of the first two Tests. He told me he felt like he might be dropped soon, as the most junior member of the top six, and was close to tears. I kept saying to him ‘mate, honestly, they want you in the side. They see what you bring to the team, you’re playing well. It’ll happen for you. Don’t worry.’ After a chilled dinner, we drove back and spoke some more, and I was as pleased as anyone to see him get a very good hundred on day one to set up our victory.

  We got into a tight huddle when Bails claimed the final catch to reclaim the Ashes, then spent a fair amount of time in the dressing room. That night the after-party was at Shane Warne’s suite in the Burswood casino complex, and all the guys brought their partners or close friends – I br
ought my brother and his wife. Nikki had always felt that John Williamson’s True Blue was a bit naff, but after we sang it together in a huge group she came to me and said ‘Chris that was amazing, I take it back!’ Later on the music took a turn into more upbeat territory, as we all fired up with the effects of plenty of celebratory beers. The boys dared me to bust a few moves, and I was quickly into it, challenging Davey in particular, to the amusement of all. After I’d settled down a bit, Warney came up to me and said ‘mate, you can seriously dance, I’m so jealous!’ He backed it up in commentary later on, calling me a cross between John Travolta and Michael Jackson. Cheers, Shane.

  Boxing Day in Melbourne is a wonderful day on the cricket calendar, but it also comes with one of the toughest decisions any captain will make – bat or bowl? When we got to the ground, all indications were that Michael wanted to bat first, something I wasn’t so sure about. Having played so often there for Victoria, I knew the drop-in wickets tended to start as puddings, slow seamers with tennis-ball bounce and difficulty for batsmen against disciplined bowling. In 2010, Andrew Strauss had sent Australia in on the advice of an ex-Bushranger in David Saker, and rolled us for 98.

  But after that they flatten right out, and almost never offer any spin. I’d played in a Shield game where Queensland ran down around 400 against us and seen a very good spinner in Jon Holland just get monstered, because the ball would simply skid on. That was in my mind when I was stretching before play with Watto, when I told him ‘I think we should be bowling here, the wicket’s only going to get better’. He said ‘go tell Michael’, but because I was still somewhat unsure of my place in the side and didn’t want to overstep the mark, I hesitated. So instead it was Shane who made the approach, before Michael came back to me.

  ‘Do you reckon we should bowl?’

  ‘Yes mate I do, every time we play here it’s slow and hard for the first innings and a bit, but from there it’ll just get easier.’

  Michael did bowl, and we knocked England over for 255 early on day two. In reply we had a poor day with the bat, excepting an ugly 61 from yours truly, which included a hefty blow to the head from Broad. That blow drew blood, but weirdly I batted more fluently from that point, and was very annoyed to get out to a leading edge when I tried to work Tim Bresnan across the line. A few people thought I was trying to hit that one over the top. All I can say to that is they can’t have watched me bat too often. From there Hadds came out and threw the bat without fear to squeak us past 200. At the break, Boof was again very positive, saying ‘we’ve had a couple of bad days but that’s ok, you’re allowed to, I believe we can bounce back’, which he tended to be in tough situations, rather than kicking the cat.

  England started well, taking their lead over 100, but we hung in there, and as ever we had Mitch to thank for turning the tide. He had Cook lbw with a reversing ball, then threw down the stumps to run out Joe Root and get the crowd baying for more. In that environment the MCG can feel uniquely intimidating, and the roars kept coming as Nathan worked his way through their lower order and left us with 231 to win. Back out there batting, you could see English heads had dropped, and when they gave me a couple of lives it was another sign that their concentration just wasn’t there any more.

  On day four, Davey was out fairly early on, but with Watto at the other end we were quickly into stride. Before I knew it we were hurtling towards the target, playing our shots and having a whale of a time.

  Overnight, the papers and the airwaves were full of stories about Australia’s poor record in low run-chases – a disaster against South Africa and Damien Martyn’s subsequent five-year exile from the Test team got plenty of mentions, as did the Botham/Willis English miracle in 1981 where we couldn’t chase down much more than 100 at Headingley. And good reason, too – earlier in the year at both Trent Bridge and Durham our chase targets of over 300 had been whittled down to 230 via opening partnerships – the same as our target this time. Each time we had fallen away pretty badly.

  I’d scored just one off 10 balls from Jimmy Anderson before I faced up to Stuart Broad for the fourth ball of the fourth over. He brought in a third slip and bowled a corker: just short of a length on off-stump it lifts and jags away – and I get a nick. I spin round to see it flying like a rocket – but bisecting the distance between new keeper Jonny Bairstow and first slip Alastair Cook. Bairstow doesn’t move a muscle sideways, and at the last moment Cook shoves out a hand, which the ball hits before flying off to the boundary.

  Broad’s look is thunderous and he stomps back to his mark in that long-legged, idiosyncratic way that people love to imitate. I don’t need to be a cricketing Einstein to guess what the next ball will be. It’s short, quick and rising to head-height – but thankfully just outside off stump – and I’m ready. I try an uppercut – a shot I’ve never played before in a Test match – and hallelujah, I get it in the middle. Over the top of slips it flies, bounces once, and crashes into the fence. On any other ground it’s six. The crowd roars – all 38,522 of them. It’s got to be my day, I think.

  But successful run-chases happen only when the top order holds onto its wickets. In experiencing lots of them over the years I know that to win, you also have to be bold. So I go for it, and the runs flow. Two things stick with me later. I hear that Kerry O’Keeffe in the ABC commentary box is on fire as he pronounces a personality switch has happened – someone who looks like Chris Rogers is playing like Davey Warner, while Warner is playing second fiddle, as Chris Rogers generally does. And that finds its way into our dressing room later, when Davey is called ‘Buck’ and I get ‘Davey’ …

  The second thing is the astonished comment I get from my father. For years, he’s tried to teach me how to late cut – and decided he was a complete failure. Today, it was my late cut that demoralised England – a third of my runs coming behind point. Like the uppercut, it’s a shot I rarely play. Yes, I thick-edge them down there often, but late cut? Pretty rare.

  There was another reason for my adventurousness: no more Graeme Swann, who had retired after Perth due to injury problems. When I heard that news, it was a moment where I thought, ‘well the guy who keeps troubling me is gone, I could actually do all right here’. It freed me up even against other bowlers.

  The hundred that resulted at the MCG was hugely satisfying, helping us to win from a poor position and keeping us on course for a 5–0 sweep. I wasn’t happy to get out to Monty Panesar before we reached the target, but it was nice to get to walk off and take in the appreciation of the crowd, a bit like a footballer being subbed off late in a game where he’s scored a hat-trick. The only source of deflation – and a minor one at that – was to be told I was man of the match and then hear it changed to Mitch. Who doesn’t love a fast bowler?

  By that stage we were all having so much fun, even as we moved on to Sydney for the fifth Test. The SCG pitch for the last game copped quite a bit of criticism, from Boof in particular, but I was prepared to wear the challenge because I just loved batting there, more than any other ground in the world. I can’t put my finger on what it is exactly, but the feel of the venue, the old Members and Ladies Stands, the size of the outfield and the ground itself has always clicked with me. Perhaps it is something to do with being born in NSW, despite all the moves I made later on. To put together a chanceless hundred in the second innings there, striking at around 70 per hundred balls, was something of a batting peak. I’d gone from struggling early in the series to finding my very best rhythm.

  In a way this was not surprising, as I’d always found myself improving as a series or season went on, working out how to deal with various bowlers and conditions. Added to that was the absence of Swann and the drift of the series towards us. It all made for a pretty joyous feeling. In the end we bowled England out so quickly on the third night that the official post-series party was to be held the following day, so we again spent plenty of time in the dressing room. After the presentation I rang Dad and found he was just about to board a bus heading for his orig
inal hometown of Gosford. He came back for the celebration, and thoroughly enjoyed a dressing room that, 55 years earlier, he had spent a season in as 12th man for NSW.

  Not long after Dad arrived, Alex Kountouris, the long-term team physio suddenly appeared and loudly proclaimed: ‘Chris Rogers, you are the greatest Test selection in the history of Australian cricket!’ We both look a bit stunned. ‘You’ve been selected at age 35 to open the batting for Australia and six months later you have scored back-to-back centuries at the Boxing Day MCG Test and the New Year SCG Test, as Australia whitewashes an Ashes series 5–nil. What a selection!’ We all laugh of course at Alex being over the top. But I don’t mind! Later, the guys ventured out to Kings Cross, still in its pre-lockout pomp. I had a great time with Watto in the outdoor area of a club called Goldfish, as a bunch of guys sang songs with us, and Hadds was flying too. Very happy memories.

  The following day there were a few sore heads, as we were told we had to be on a bus for an afternoon party at a secret location. The bus ventured out of the city to Vaucluse Road, Vaucluse, for a party held at the private beachside compound of the Hemmes family, who own the Merivale portfolio of restaurants, bars and the like. No expense was spared for this event, which took a few of us out of the cricket world we were used to occupying and into the circles of the Sydney elite. As a guy who’d battled in domestic cricket for years and never seen the glitz of the IPL, it was certainly something to see. We were entertained by Rai Thistlethwayte, the singer from Thirsty Merc, who put on an absolutely brilliant set. Watto had a bit of a strum and a sing as well.

  I had one obligation still hanging over me from Melbourne. For that game I’d won the team’s own man of the match award, which came with a special jacket you had to wear that night. Your next task was to make a presentation to the team for the following match, after which you’d announce who had won the right to wear the jacket. Smudger had won it for Perth, and so after Melbourne chose to interview Sidds’ partner Anna before presenting me with the jacket. At the end of the ceremony, Boof told me I would have to speak for seven minutes after Sydney. When I exclaimed ‘but Smudger only spoke for five’ he replied ‘ok now it’s nine minutes’. When I again complained, he shot back ‘now it’s 13 minutes, are you going to keep talking?’ I didn’t.