Bucking the Trend

by Chris Rogers

  I’d been hit in the head many times and while I have no doubt I was concussed badly early in my career after Mark Cleary cleaned me up with a blow flush on my eye socket, since then I’d never worried too much when it happened and kept soldiering on. If anything, a blow by Stuart Broad in the Boxing Day Ashes Test in 2013 seemed to sharpen my focus and helped me find rhythm.

  This time was different. It had been such an innocuous blow and not even that fast, but something was very wrong. Trying hard to help out with 12th man duties, I tried staying at the ground during the Test but would get very tired very quickly and start to feel sick. The heat was oppressive and almost unavoidable so I would be sent home. I still remember walking through the streets of Dominica alone with Australian team training kit on, wondering what I was doing. Celebrations were had that Test after Adam Voges had played sublimely on debut but I wasn’t allowed to drink, and it was the first time not being part of the team during my time with the Australian squad. While pleased for Vogesy, it was still a hollow feeling not being able to contribute.

  The second Test was in Jamaica, where we were advised to stay in the hotel complex due to the danger of wandering off in what is a dangerous city. After about nine days off from training, I joined in for some light running with the guys in the first training session at the ground. Within five minutes, familiar sensations returned and once again my condition went south quickly. It seemed any time the brain was moved or bounced by exercise, I would deteriorate dramatically.

  It was at this stage I started to become concerned. The doctor had suggested it would take a week or so to clear up, but the symptoms didn’t seem to be abating. Querying the doctor about tests, he said there wasn’t much point until we got to the UK, which made enough sense to me as once again I was ruled out of the upcoming Test and nothing could be done in the meantime. It was hard to shake the feeling that the symptoms were becoming permanent, in much the same way as when I had a bad back and couldn’t move. The mind often deals in worst-case scenarios and mine was no different. It was a depressing time.

  Speaking to my brother, he seemed to think being in the Caribbean was a lot of sitting on the beach relaxing, drinking rum and then the odd party in the evening. It was anything but, and being confined to a room was not how I’d envisioned a trip that used to be the envy of all professional cricketers.

  Eventually the time came to travel to the UK for the Ashes, which was a relief. The chance to see a lot of friends and even family was a godsend. There was a lot of talk that Shaun Marsh would keep his spot at the top of the order after doing reasonably well in my absence. A few of us who hadn’t played a lot of cricket travelled to the picturesque Isle of Wight just off the coast of Southampton for a friendly game – a match I’d been cleared for.

  Driving down with Stuart Law from London while others were transported in a mini bus was a great opportunity to talk to a player I’d so admired. Still a little worried about concussion, I was nicked off by Ryan Harris for not many, which didn’t help my frame of mind, but I managed to spend some time in the middle in the second innings. What was more pleasing was my confidence being slightly restored, even though the bowling wasn’t anywhere near as fast as expected in the Test matches.

  After a couple of warm-up games the selectors decided I was the man for the job, which came as a pleasant surprise, but I was also worried as the England fast bowling attack was not something to scoff at. Somehow I managed to get myself set in our first innings in Cardiff – the first Test – and was playing as well as I had for a long time. It was the introduction of Mark Wood that started to cause worries. ‘Woody’ had ridiculous athleticism and agility, which enabled a whippy action. Because of this he managed to get the odd ball to fly – without any noticeable difference in his bowling action, it would be considerably quicker. I couldn’t get a feel for him and every now and again a ball would kick or fly past my head.

  After fighting through these periods and continuing to tick the runs over, Stuart Broad joined in on the short-ball barrage and my heart started racing. It’s easy for people to say fight hard and don’t worry and toughen up but I couldn’t shake the thought in the back of the mind that one was going to be too quick or awkward for me.

  Getting into the 80s I started to play uncharacteristic shots and even top-edged a six off Broad – my only one in Test cricket. Then I tried to ‘ramp’ a couple of Broad’s bouncers over the keeper unsuccessfully and then on 95 played a poor half-cut to Wood and edged behind. Michael Clarke was at the other end and I knew he was furious with me for my lack of discipline – but I had demons running through my thoughts. We lost the game and my dismissal was a key moment. A score of 150 instead of 95 might have been the difference in the result.

  Heading to Lord’s, there had been a lot of criticism in the media, including from the co-author of this book, Daniel Brettig. Our batsmen had been written off as performers only on home soil and it made me furious. I felt it was a bit premature, as the same journalists were the ones predicting an Australian victory in the series. After all, one bad game can happen. This along with the inspiration of playing at Lord’s – and an easy paced surface with short square boundaries that deterred short-pitched bowling – combined for my best performance for Australia, the one time I batted a full day in a Test.

  Going out to bat the next morning, my expectation was that a stiff Jimmy Anderson would serve up a nice loosener. But he isn’t one of the best bowlers in the world for nothing and his first delivery was a surprisingly quick bouncer right at my head, which was too quick to evade in my slightly tired state. Turning my head, the ball clattered into the base of the back of the helmet, on the new stemguard protecting the neck that had been adapted since Phillip Hughes died.

  I was very fortunate to be wearing it, as it took a fair portion of the impact. Even though I was able to carry on, the blow shook me badly and I knew my innings wouldn’t last too long, as we were already in a very dominant position with a lot of batting to come. Choosing to be aggressive, I scored another 16 quickly before missing a fairly innocuous ball from Broad but I was satisfied – perhaps another sign that my time was coming to an end. (Steve Smith, by comparison, wasn’t done and made a deserved double century.) After bowling out the English relatively cheaply we had the chance to bat for a second time at the end of day three. Davey and I had few alarms as we scored at a quick rate to be unbeaten at the end of the day with both of us in the 40s.

  The next day was to be one of the weirdest experiences of my life. Starting once more I managed two very good shots in the first over and raced to 49. The next over, stationed at the non-striker’s end, I watched as Davey had to deal with a Broad over. After the fourth ball, I turned back to walk into my crease and all of a sudden my eyesight started to bounce. Initially I wasn’t concerned: sometimes this happens when you move your head too quickly and then it settles down.

  However Broad bowled the next ball and it wasn’t settling down. It was at this moment I became very worried. Everything seemed to be bouncing side to side and there was no way I could face Anderson while this was happening. Finally Broad finished his over and I could hardly stand. Davey immediately realised something was very wrong and told me to sit down and he called for the doctor.

  It was my friend Darren Wates who later pointed out to me what had transpired between Davey and I as we waited for the doctor. He’d read Davey’s comments in the media after Davey chatted to the press at the end of the day. As Davey kneeled behind me looking over my shoulder he asked what was wrong, to which I replied along the lines of ‘Something’s wrong with my eyes, mate. The Pavilion is moving.’ Davey proceeded to look up at the pavilion, paused and then said, God bless him, ‘No it’s not.’

  The doctor quickly realised I was in no state to continue and told me my innings was done and therefore, I knew, my Test match also. Sitting in the Pavilion and then on the balcony to be visible for friends and family I couldn’t contact as we had no phones available – one of the rules to sto
p any possibility of match-fixing – the symptoms happened again that afternoon and again that night. On what turned out to be the last day of the Test as Australia ran through a dispirited England, I was getting an MRI on Harley Street in the city and by the time I’d returned I’d missed out on a lot of the celebrations as many friends, family and celebrities crammed into the change room to enjoy themselves.

  Though I was originally scheduled to continue on with the Australian team, the doctor insisted I stay in London for more tests as the MRI hadn’t indicated anything. A CT scan was next and once again it showed nothing, so eventually an ear specialist was recommended. It turned out I didn’t have concussion at all, but instead bruising to the inner ear, although fascinatingly it was the opposite ear from the side that was struck, as the head was rocked to the side and some sort of reverberation had occurred.

  It was a huge relief, as one more concussion would have been enough for me, even though I was desperate to keep going, particularly with the form I had. So despite some trepidation, I declared myself fit for Edgbaston, which turned out to be the quickest pitch of the series.

  We batted first, and after lunch England came out breathing fire, particularly Steven Finn, who had been a teammate at Middlesex. I had pulled him before the break. He didn’t like it and now bowled as quick as I’d seen him. His height and pace were difficult to manage. He bowled two bouncers that fizzed past my head. They were so quick I couldn’t actually move to avoid them – it was just fortunate they were off target.

  This was the innings when I knew my time was just about up.

  Any thoughts of continuing in Test cricket after the Ashes were extinguished. I’ve heard people say that as you get older, you lose the ability to pick up the ball early, which is why the bowlers feel quicker. I don’t necessarily disagree, but also feel the body loses its suppleness and can’t quite physically react as quickly to move into position or out of position.

  The feeling of being stuck as quick deliveries passed close by my head was enough to make me realise I had had my fair share of luck and that it was time to get out. It’s not just the games – the nets can be even scarier, especially when it’s Mitchell Johnson and Mitchell Starc bowling at you. I was all too aware what could happen following Phillip’s passing. The growing fear in me was not subsiding. It was time to admit my age was becoming a factor. The next time I was hit might be one time too many.

  CHAPTER 15

  SWANSONG

  Ashes 2015

  TWO THINGS DOMINATED the weeks leading up to Australia’s 2015 defence of the Ashes won so comprehensively at home 18 months before: hubris and tickets. The prevailing attitude of the touring side was summed up best by Steve Smith, in an interview with ESPNcricinfo: ‘I can’t wait to get over there and play another Ashes against England in their conditions after beating them so convincingly in Australia,’ he said. ‘If we continue to play the way we have been playing over the last 12 to 18 months, I don’t think that they’ll come close to us, to be honest.’

  Other players weighed in with similar sentiments; journalists from both countries agreed. Curiously, the one dissenting voice was that of the former Australian paceman, then coach of Yorkshire, Jason Gillespie:

  ‘England should look at Australia and go: “Hang on a minute, they’ve got a 37-year-old keeper [Brad Haddin]. They’ve got a 37-year-old opening batter [Chris Rogers], their captain [Michael Clarke] has got a glass back and they’ve got a fast bowler – Ryan Harris – who’s 35 years of age and who’s got a dodgy knee”. They’re Dad’s Army. I’d be thinking “let’s keep them out in the field. Let’s get them tired, they’re old blokes. We can put these guys under pressure”.’

  For Chris, this pre-series period was complicated by the unravelling of a scheme to put together a tour group for the summer, in collaboration with fellow Australian and former Middlesex teammate, Tom Scollay. The idea was for a group pitched to a younger market than is usual, using some of Chris’ knowledge of the pubs, clubs and restaurants of England as an itinerary that also featured time in the Mediterranean. Tickets to the Lord’s Test were to be included, after Chris sought and received an allocation from Middlesex.

  Unfortunately there is rather more to setting up an Ashes tour operation than simply acquiring tickets and putting up a website for ‘Inside Edge Experience’. The tour group business is closely guarded by boards, venues and established operators, with resale of tickets outside official channels strictly prohibited. There was the further complication of Lord’s being the domain not just of Middlesex but also the Marylebone Cricket Club, which quickly sought to protect its interests once the concept was publicised.

  At training before Australia’s first tour match against Kent in Canterbury, Chris clearly wanted to be talking about something else as he took his medicine. This was never more evident than when the experienced Australian news journalist Jacquelin Magnay pitched up with this question: ‘This is something that could attract a year’s jail in this country. Do you think someone should have flagged that up before now?’ A stammering response was almost inevitable.

  ‘Look in hindsight I’ve found out I should probably have gone in a different way,’ Chris answered. ‘But there was no intent to do anything other than start up a very small company and provide a good experience of London, which I’ve been lucky enough to spend some time in. The tickets have been refunded and no money has been exchanged with Middlesex, so hopefully no harm done. It was for a very small group of people and I went about it in what I thought was the right way, but it turned out it probably wasn’t. I probably learned a lesson, but there was no intent to deceive or anything like that.’

  The episode landed Middlesex in trouble with the MCC, and may have been a catalyst for examination of the role of the club’s long-term chief executive Vinny Codrington, who departed by mutual consent some weeks later. Angus Fraser, the director of cricket, looks back upon the episode as a lesson learned for all concerned. As well, he is adamant it had no bearing on his decision to sign Adam Voges rather than Chris for 2016. As he says:

  ‘It was an innocent, slightly naive cock-up. Chris had this idea, clubs sell corporate packages and he asked us to provide some tickets. The club were trying to look after him, it was Middlesex’s cock-up, and that certainly didn’t influence any decision I made [about 2016]. Middlesex messed that up because we shouldn’t have done what we did. But it was done in a well-intentioned way, trying to help a Middlesex player out.’

  ‘Innocent, slightly naive cock-up’ is actually a reasonable description of how the 2015 Ashes would pan out for the Australians. While Chris managed to put together a strong final series, others were unable to do the same, as the ‘Dad’s Army’ label ascribed by Gillespie started to stick. Ryan Harris, Michael Clarke, Brad Haddin and Shane Watson would all join Chris in Test match retirement by the end of the series.

  There were to be mea culpas aplenty, not least by the selection chairman Rod Marsh, who had this to say at series’ end:

  ‘When we left Lord’s [after the second Test] I thought “we will win the Ashes” because we’d played that badly at Cardiff, we played that well here, then we were just going to win. If that’s complacency, then yes we were complacent. But I think we all thought we’d broken their back at Lord’s with such an emphatic victory. Geez we were wrong. We were that wrong!’

  The only source of consolation came from Chris’ own performances, making him a rare batsman not only to finish a Test career on his terms, but to do so as his team’s man of the series. As I wrote at the series’ end for ESPNcricinfo: ‘Rogers is leaving on top of his game … A concussion in the West Indies could have had a debilitating effect, as could the distraction of a mini-tour group scuppered by the MCC. But at Cardiff and Lord’s, Rogers played a pair of terrific first innings, then shrugged off an inner-ear problem to contribute solidly over the final three. His final innings at The Oval was typical – a slogging knock to get the team past lunch and coax out David Warner’s best performanc
e of the series, setting up a win.’

  AS EARLY AS 2014, the following year’s Ashes series in England seemed like the right time to finish up – provided I could make it that far. I was realistic enough to understand that once we’d made our defence of the urn won at home, Darren and the selectors would be eager to move on to someone younger. I was also honest enough with myself to know that the scheduled series after that tour, against Bangladesh, New Zealand and the West Indies, would be good opportunities to blood younger players. It is my firm belief, as well, that if there is a younger player who can do the same job as an older counterpart, pick the young guy. Only stay with experience if you can see it will make a significant difference. After the Ashes were done, I knew my English wiles wouldn’t matter so much.

  A third factor came into my thinking as well. Being in the Australian team is a bubble existence, and after years of being outside it, I was looking for the right time to escape the environment. Don’t get me wrong: I had some of the best moments of my life in the Australian side, and the validation of proving I could play at the highest level was something that I will always cherish. But it is such a highly competitive space, with constant travel and pressure, that not everyone can flourish in it forever. There was also a sense of isolation to it that I had not bargained for. Cricket becomes the be all and end all, less a game than a compulsion.