Bucking the Trend

by Chris Rogers

  ‘On the field he trained hard and he was all about saying you switch on and focus when you’re there to train or to play. But he also focused on living in a good nearby location in West Hampstead, getting everyone to socialise together after games and making a point of celebrating success. If you won he was a big one for everyone getting out together and enjoying the good moments. Similarly when there were individual milestones he wanted everyone to acknowledge that. So he brought the guys together.

  ‘A lot of that stemmed from the fact he liked going out himself, and that suited him, but it actually was what we needed as well.

  ‘It helped as well that he liked talking about cricket. So even when we were away from the game, at dinner or socialising we’d talk about the game. For some of the young blokes at Middlesex that was big, hearing him talk about players he played with and against, some of the great Australian or English players, talking about when he did well or what he picked up from them. It seems like an obvious thing within a team to talk about the game together, but it doesn’t always happen naturally. Someone’s got to get it rolling.’

  Robson and Rogers contrasted, being right and left-handed, young and not so young, but they shared a desire to defend their wicket and a willingness to tough it out against the new ball. Both men had set themselves up as first-class players, lacking the desire to mutate their games for Twenty20. And when Sam was selected for England, he could tap into Chris’s experience.

  ‘As a batter he looks at things quite technically. The other thing was that as batting has got more aggressive through T20 and other factors, you hear coaches and players say “it’s all about looking to score, all about being aggressive and positive and taking it to the bowlers”. But Chris came from the other direction. He said to me one day “basically batting is about not getting out”. If you say that in the wrong environment now, it could be perceived as being negative thinking. But it was refreshing to hear that and be secure in the idea that I could base my game around staying at the crease. He reassured me that it still worked.

  ‘Something that was very impressive about him then and in 2012 in particular, was that … he still had the determination to succeed, and went out there each day with a focus and a desire to do the very best he could for the team. To churn out a hundred at Derby when no one was watching, or at an out ground in Uxbridge in front of 500 people. He set high standards and kept living up to them even when it didn’t look like he’d play Test cricket again. It showed great professionalism and hunger for the game and I think that rubbed off on the rest of us. He had a good impact on us because we saw a professional cricketer who’d played for 15 years, scored all these runs, played Test cricket, but even then he was working on his game and fiddling around to try to get himself in the best position for that next innings. Also it stood out how much as an overseas player he cared not only about his own performance but also the team. Buck really wanted the team to do well, to celebrate when we did win but also at the end of a bad day to be gutted and take it like someone who had always been at Middlesex.

  ‘He rarely had really poor games either. Of course there would be games where he didn’t get hundreds, but there were very few where he’d not get at least a start in either innings. A big mantra of his was even if you’re not at your best, get stuck in and make some sort of contribution, whether it be 17 and 24 or whatever it was.

  ‘He’d experienced it [Test cricket] in Ashes series, so he could talk to me about the pressure and all that goes with playing at international level – it is very different to first-class level. At times you might be playing the same bowlers or the same grounds, but all the other stimuli and things going on around it are different. He’s the sort of guy who even now whether you have a good week or a bad week he’ll be in touch.’

  I’VE ALWAYS ADMIRED those players who have been one-club, one-state cricketers. There are numerous players like that in Australia, where the geography dictates that a professional cricketer can’t just quit and go work for someone else just around the corner. England, with three times as many professional domestic teams in one-sixtieth the space, is a different matter.

  As a teammate of Marcus Trescothick in 2016, I was in awe of him and his steadfast attachment to Somerset Cricket Club – helps when you have a stand named after you! But still it’s all he ever wanted and to send him out a Championship winner before he retired would cap a remarkable career. He still is the only player I’ve ever met who doesn’t ever want it to rain and put his feet up in the change room. He wants to milk every last moment he has playing.

  My career followed a vastly different path. Circumstance dictated certainly, but it is also a reflection of my personality. Being easily bored and chasing new challenges have been life-long characteristics. At times I’ve wanted a more settled life, but those periods have unfortunately been fleeting – just two Australian winters in the past 20 years is proof of this.

  After backing myself into a corner in Western Australia and realising I didn’t fit, I made the move to Victoria. For quite a while I was bitter I had to leave family and friends, but no longer. Playing for five counties – Leicestershire, Northamptonshire, Derbyshire, Middlesex and Somerset – is less surprising I believe. With an allowance now only one overseas player per county side, these roles are highly sought after and moving clubs to find a better ‘fit’ happens. Sometimes counties want an overseas bowler, or a Championship style player, or a white-ball specialist.

  Combined with Australian representation – WA, Victoria, Sydney Thunder and of course Australia – I’ve played for nine professional sides. That in itself, I’ve realised, is a phenomenal statistic in my career. Most play for one or two. And that’s not even counting five Leagues sides in England and five district clubs in Australia. With all that comes numerous teammates, coaches, mentors and different cultures – and I loved these new experiences.

  Many times I’ve played in sides that had bitter rivalries with certain opposition and even refused to socialise together in the belief the competing players are ‘ordinary blokes’. Victoria had a reputation for being that side in Australia. Tough, often nasty, on the field and uncompromising, the side had a stigma of being one to avoid hanging out with. Moving to and playing with Victoria reinforced my belief that every side has its good blokes, provided you make the effort to find them.

  But to play with so many teammates and under so many coaches had a far greater impact for me. Impressionable and slightly needy, I’ve experienced so much from so many … good and bad.

  Initial experiences with WA were not some of my most enjoyable and no doubt I needed a firm hand and a few rockets but also perhaps an arm around my shoulder every now and again and better direction. Returning from England to the Western Australia team as a 23-year-old and finally starting to perform, I found two senior characters at the opposite end of the spectrum in terms of personality.

  Justin Langer was and always has been all business – the utter professional. His day didn’t end at stumps. As a player he was driven to perfection and it was incredible to watch him up close – but also not something I could emulate. I have no doubt it’s why he managed to play 100 Tests and was an integral part of one of the best sides to ever grace a cricket field.

  One evening after an interstate game for WA, I got back to my hotel room quite late in the knowledge we had an early wake-up call the next morning. Among my thoughts was the need to pack my bags before departure, and how little sleep I was bound to get. But when I looked around the room in half darkness, I realised it had already been packed. Lying on the other bed, sound asleep, was Justin. This episode summed him up in a lot of ways – JL had an amazing capacity to be understanding, considerate and helpful. He also had a hard and ruthless streak – if you stepped too far out of line you knew you were going to get nailed.

  Murray Goodwin, the ex-Zimbabwe international, was another constant in the side. Both he and JL had fantastic careers but went about things very differently. ‘Muzz’ was very profession
al in his training and to have the career he had proves he worked hard too – but he definitely had a wild side. He proved to me alcohol wasn’t the devil if you combined it with hard work when you had to. Apart from calling everyone ‘chum’ (a trait I often copy) he had a catchphrase … ‘Just enjoy’. It was his way of saying that the journey can be fun and doesn’t have to be all business.

  There’s a legend – which I believe Steve Waugh started and which I’ve repeated in a few speeches – about Muzz meeting the Queen. The story goes that all 12 sides of the 1999 World Cup were to meet the Queen and Prince Philip at Buckingham Palace. Somewhat of a logistical nightmare, it was decided the teams would be divided into two rooms.

  Muzz, being a social butterfly, entered the ‘other’ room to speak to a few of the Australian players and in mid-conversation the doors were shut, barring him from the Zimbabwean players. Trying to find a way out with no success, he eventually stood at the end of the West Indian line. As captain Brian Lara introduced the Queen to his players and as he got towards the end of the line and it went something like Curtly Ambrose (6 foot 7), Courtney Walsh (6 foot 6) then ‘aah Murray Goodwin’ (5 foot 9).

  The Queen didn’t bat an eyelid, but Prince Philip took one look at the blond Murray and said ‘you don’t look much like a West Indian’, to which Muzz replied without missing a beat, ‘Nah … but I wish I was hung like one!’ Allegedly Prince Philip thought it was one of the funnier things he’d heard.

  To be under the influence of these two was a huge eye-opener for me. It taught me that there isn’t one secret formula you have to follow to achieve your dreams. The one constant was they both worked hard, although it is hard to match JL’s work ethic.

  Batting with these two was very different as well. Murray was a very relaxed and often funny person at the crease and when I was set in my innings I would often like this approach. Yes, switch on when about to face the delivery, but between overs the conversation would often wander. Towards the latter half of my career that has mostly been my method. I found it hard to be intense all the time and often it would burn too much energy.

  Justin was all intensity and it would drag you along if you could use it. I must admit I loved it at the time. Often Justin and I would be at loggerheads about various issues surrounding the side, but when it came to batting, I’ve never enjoyed batting with someone as much. He would get himself so worked up it would become infectious and inspire me.

  Two vivid memories stick out. The first was the time the former Test off-spinner Dan Cullen sledged him at the WACA. They had history on the field and Dan could get very fiery himself. Apparently he was told not to sledge JL but couldn’t help himself – and a relatively calm Justin saw red and returned serve at Cullen. Then the next ball he launched him over mid-on into the stand and again the next ball. Then with mid-on being sent back to the fence Justin went again but it bounced short of the fielder. At the end of the over we met in the middle of the pitch and Justin was furious. He was frothing at the mouth and telling me he wanted to take Cullen down. It was incredible the intensity he could find. The story of his first century for WA, in the 1992 Sheffield Shield final, is still told. He was battered from head to toe but refused to yield and I’ve always admired that story.

  The other time was playing against a strong NSW side that featured the Waugh brothers, Michael Slater, Stuart MacGill, Stuart Clark, Nathan Bracken and others. We watched helplessly as Slater flayed us to all corners of the WACA in compiling a brilliant double-century. When our time to bat came we were knocked over for just over an embarrassing 100 and immediately sent back in.

  Justin had been furious and gave us an unbelievable dressing down and told us we needed to ‘fight’. He must have used that word at least 10 times and it stuck with me. We went out to bat a second time and I was on a pair. JL took strike and first ball hit Nathan Bracken over his head for a one-bounce four. That was the last thing I’d expected, but I realised it was game on and we weren’t going to lie down. Justin didn’t last too long but he had set the standard and Marcus North and I ended up putting on 369 for the fourth wicket.

  I’d taken forever to get to 20 as I was inspired and determined to fight every ball and not give my wicket away, but once that mark was passed batting became a lot easier. It wasn’t until I was 194 that I gave it away, the best innings of my life against a world-class attack. The experience made me realise if I was going to make it I had to emulate Justin’s mindset when it came to batting.

  He often spoke about perfection when playing, which wasn’t about averaging 100 but instead about getting yourself into the exact same mindset every time you went out to bat. That’s essential for an opener as every time you go out the score is 0–0. Yes the situation of the game might be different but often it’s about doing the same job over and over again.

  We ended up doing a lot of work together and Justin was always positive. He used to say he wished he could have my stance, but sometimes I thought he was humouring me. Who wants to stand like they look like they are sitting on a horse? He always wanted feedback too. When I threw to him often I’d suggest something and he would lap it up. It was great to see a player such as himself wanting to improve. If he thought I’d seen something different or needed work, he would demand I say it and I’ve always wanted that in my own game. I don’t have to listen to advice, but equally it will make me think and perhaps find my own solution.

  Justin did have a few curious tics, and one that used to make me laugh was when we’d walk to the crease at the beginning of an innings and take guard. He would then walk all the way to the other end of the pitch where he’d ask his partner if he was ready. A friend told me Langer was asked about this in a question-and-answer evening and he said that Matthew Hayden and Michael Hussey would both be pumped and say something like ‘yeah, come on, let’s do this,’ while I would not say a thing and just nod my head almost dismissively.

  There were some things he did that inspired me, but being asked if I was ready to go at the beginning of an innings didn’t. I’m not sure why. It was a bit like when I played for Australia. I didn’t feel the need to touch the flag as I walked out to bat or bleed ‘green and gold’ to show I was giving anything less than my best.

  The next big influence on my career was an English wicketkeeper. Paul Nixon was someone I didn’t know a lot about apart from being a chirpy menace behind the stumps I’d encountered in county cricket in 2004 when playing for Derbyshire against Leicestershire.

  The next season on a short stint with Leicestershire he became my favourite teammate. As mentioned previously, he took me aside on a bus trip back from Somerset to Leicester and told me we would be working all week leading up to the county’s tour game against Australia.

  The following year when I’d been signed unseen by Kepler Wessels at Northamptonshire I found myself out of form due to some extraordinary spinning wickets that didn’t suit me at all. Northamptonshire is one of Leicestershire’s neighbours and main rivals, but I received a call from ‘Nicho’ asking me how I was going and if I wanted to do some work with him. I jumped at the chance.

  Next day I drove up to Leicester where he threw me balls at the county ground nets while the second team trained. Even now I still can’t believe that. For an opposition player to help out a rival’s overseas player is incredible, but just showed the measure of the man. He didn’t care what people thought. He wanted to help a fellow professional and friend. I’ve never forgotten that.

  It was at this stage I was starting to drift away from using my father as coach. Not because I had stopped believing his theories and style had merit, but to become a better all-round player. It had become clear to me that my technique had been honed on fast, bouncy wickets and was not suited to slow seaming wickets or spin-friendly ones.

  Lance Klusener was also a teammate, who taught me a few things, as I have written. Lance is a remarkable man. Despite his reputation of being a big South African slogger, I found him to be extremely thoughtful, perceptive
and inspiring. His weight at the 1999 World Cup was around 100 kilos but by the time I played with him he had shredded himself to 78 kilos and exceptionally fit. The fact Klusener and Nixon were constant tinkerers of their techniques reinforced my belief that the best players kept improving on their game even during the season.

  It was at this stage I think I settled on a workable technique. Often I would discuss it with teammates I later encountered such as David Hussey, Andrew McDonald and Marcus Trescothick, but by then I was a senior player and started to give back, while teammates figured they didn’t need to help me. Coaches, however, were still having a large influence.

  My first taste of a coach in professional cricket was Wayne Clark, who oversaw a highly talented Western Australia side and did it fantastically. When you have the sort of squad he did, actual technical coaching is secondary to team- and man-management. Wayne or ‘Dunny’ as he was known, managed to get all these guys to pull together and go in one direction, which wouldn’t have been easy at times, especially with quite a few having an eye on national selection.

  When the inevitable breakup of that side happened, due to retirement, national selection or injury, Wayne found himself with a much inferior side and perhaps found other skills were needed, which proved difficult for him initially I believe. Personally I hadn’t had much to do with him apart from being rightfully disciplined by him at one stage. I’ll never forget him verbally abusing me following a beach fitness session where I was trailing badly and opted for the hard sand near the water. It was a lesson learnt.

  He was then released around 2002–03 and Mike Veletta took over for two years before Dunny returned for a second stint. It was then that Wayne became quite influential on me. By this stage I was one of the better performers in the side and Dunny and I quickly built up a close relationship.