Matthew Hayden and Justin Langer were belting teams, Ricky Ponting and Adam Gilchrist were also very aggressive and I started to feel as though the only way I would get an opportunity was if I started to bat more like them, to be more attacking and dominate every bowling attack I faced. The problem was that I was the kind of batsman who preferred to be patient. I wanted to bat all day, not score six or seven runs an over like the Test guys were. I started trying to second guess the selectors. ‘What do they want? I have to do something to make myself better or more attractive to them.’ I came to the conclusion that because the guys in the Australian team were all scoring so quickly, I had to change my game to be more aggressive. It turned out to be a disaster because I left behind the very basis of what had made me a good batsman.
The result was three seasons in which I performed inconsistently. My form was varied, my focus was muddled and I was trying to be something I wasn’t. In the end, I played myself out of the team. I was dropped for the last game of the 2002–03 season. I felt like my career was over. It was a defining moment in my career and one that was to influence the rest of my life.
That winter I went to England – where I never had too many problems scoring runs – and set about restoring my confidence. I knew, however, that I needed to truly reassess the way I went about things. I remember on a visit back to Perth, Amy and I had a conversation where we tried to work out how I could get my career back on track. Amy is always so measured and calm and she made me cut through all the crap and get back to what was important. Our conclusion at the end of the conversation was that, from that point on, as unbelievable as it might sound, I would no longer worry about playing for Australia. When I came back to Australia to play club cricket I vowed to play my natural game, find enjoyment in cricket again and work my way back into the state side.
1997 PRE-SEASON GOALS:
TECHNICAL
Batting: drives and batswing, cuts, pulls, lofting spinners
Bowling: run-up, through the crease, get video done
Fielding: run-outs – diving saves (specific exercises), lots of catching (slips and cover), foxing
PHYSICAL
Stronger – weights, boxing, agility, fitter in all aspects (morning work, do more work, extra work)
During season, fresher program – yoga, tai chi
MENTAL
Situation assessment, make 200s (think about it), attention to sledging, practise routines (look like nothing fazes me), body awareness during pre-season and season.
Make no mistake, I was shattered when I was dropped by WA. But I truly think that, with the revised attitude I took in to the new season, even if I’d been dropped again and never played another game, I would have been able to cope a lot better simply because I’d been true to myself. As it turned out, I didn’t get dropped again. Ever. I no longer tried to be someone I wasn’t. I no longer tried to keep up with the Joneses – or the Haydens, Gilchrists and Pontings.
I backed up my good English county season with a few runs in Perth club cricket and was picked again for WA for the opening game of the new summer. I was back and next thing I scored a double century.
I knew straight away that the reason I was performing well was because I’d gone back to basics. I had re-acquainted myself with the reasons I started playing cricket in the first place. I was once again simply enjoying the game and everything that comes with it. Perhaps the fact that I was back playing my style of cricket – and regaining a sense of comfort with who I was, how I played and where I was at – was my true indicator of success. After several years of trying to please everyone but myself, I could safely say that I was once again free to be me.
Feeling liberated on the field is directly related to having an understanding of your place within a team. Way before I started playing for WA I began learning about the methods needed to feel like a valued part of a team. At Wanneroo, my second club, I learned a lot about cricket and the team environment. But I was quite a late developer and therefore always smaller than the other kids. I couldn’t hit the ball hard and scored the bulk of my runs by deflecting and gliding it behind square leg or point. I did little more than just hang around at the crease for as long as I could. I honestly felt I was quite a boring batsman to watch.
My first coach at Whitfords, Bob Mitchell, had told me that, because I had little power, I should concentrate on technique, defence and just try to survive at the crease. As I developed physically, Bob explained, my good technique would hold me in good stead. He was right. But while those years were helpful in providing me with a good technique, I couldn’t help feeling a bit envious of the bigger boys, who seemed to have no trouble smashing the ball around. They looked so powerful and aggressive and I wanted to appear that way too but physically I couldn’t match them. Though I did get a chance.
One damp and cold Thursday afternoon we were training on tatty old astroturf mats, which, for good measure, had tree roots growing underneath them. It was like batting on corrugated iron. The ball was bouncing and popping all over the place. Everything was wet and dim and there I was facing Peter Clough. Peter was a giant, well over six feet tall and had taken 139 wickets in 43 first-class matches for Tasmania and Western Australia. He didn’t care that I was a puny 17-year-old and came charging in off the long run-up to terrify me. It worked and, not surprisingly, I batted poorly and hardly laid bat on ball. I was churned up afterwards, partly happy to have survived in one piece, but also disappointed I didn’t perform better. I couldn’t wait to get out of the nets. Just as I did, our A-grade captain Damien Martyn and the club coach Ian Kevan came over to tell me I was ready to make my A-grade debut. After barely surviving Clough for half an hour, I found it surprising that they felt I was ready to join the top team, but I wasn’t about to knock them back.
When it came time to put on my pads, all I could think about was how I was going to score my first run, not unlike later on when I made my Test debut. Accordingly, my first runs probably reflected my state of mind: after about 25 minutes I clipped one to square leg, called ‘wait’, and the ball went straight through the fielder’s legs. It wasn’t exactly dominating or aggressive, but they were my first runs in A-grade and I’ll take them.
I was always smaller than the other kids.
I held my place in the team and went on to have some good knocks. But the mindset of being defensive and trying to do little more than survive stayed with me. Meanwhile, I was always trying to suppress my envy of the big and strong players around me, especially Marto, who remains one of the most gifted batsmen I’ve ever seen. Batting with Damien at first-class level was great. But batting with him when I was a kid brought home the truth that I had a whole lot of work to do to get to where he was.
Marto had this almost ridiculous ability to toy with bowlers and hit the ball wherever he liked, whenever he liked. He was an awesome batsman. One particular Wanneroo innings comes to mind, when his placement and timing were unbelievable. There were a few people watching as Damien had already become a Test player. He was going through a fitness kick at the time, so he decided that instead of hitting boundaries, he would place the ball into gaps and run ones, twos and threes. He scored 75 off about 40 balls, while I became completely exhausted trying to keep up with his running between the wickets. He’d call as he chipped each ball. He’d hit one through cover and yell ‘Two!’ as he connected. The next ball he would push between midwicket and mid-on and call ‘Three!’ as he stroked the ball. It was amazing and showed me up close just how good you had to be if you wanted to play for Australia.
It felt like there was a huge gap between us in terms of talent, skill and ability. It seemed as large as the distance between Pluto and Mercury. How could I ever do what he did? How could I dominate like that? It was a good wake-up call.
Given what I’ve been able to achieve since then, it’s interesting to think back to those times at Wanneroo when I felt so out of my depth. I did well in A-grade but, because it always seemed to be a vigil, I rarely felt satisfi
ed and often had the niggling thought that I should be scoring more quickly. If I batted the whole day I’d only be on about 80 or 90 runs. It was hardly exciting stuff.
Even when I made runs, I felt as though I was letting my teammates down because it took too long. My goal was to get the team into a good position and scoring 80 helped to do that. But if it took all day, it wasn’t good enough. I was too worried about pleasing people and, in my mind, that overshadowed the fact that I was actually doing a job for my team. I was a harsh self-critic in those days and often thought the worst instead of looking at the positives. ‘I need to score faster, score more, what are the boys thinking, they’re not happy with me, and so on.’
Playing in a semi-final in 1992. My top score was 73.
START SLOW:
Start every innings the same
Play my game, watch the ball, push singles, allow balls to pass early, be positive, bat for a long time
If something extraordinary happens, get my mind back on to my job before taking strike
Assess the situation better when I have been fielding for a long time. The team needs someone to hang in there and grind for a while.
It wasn’t until much later that I came to the incredibly important realisation that, in fact, I wasn’t the only person around who had these types of thoughts. Even Marto, this aggressive, super-talented batsman who had left me awestruck as a teenager, had to deal with his personal demons. Damien was a victim of his own talent. Because he was so good, he has since told me, he felt a great expectation to perform above everyone else every time he batted. I had thought of him as invincible and believed there was no chance that he could harbour any doubts or fears.
I certainly learned a lot from him during his hard times, when he was almost dropped from the WA team and when he went through that long period of difficulty towards the end of his international career. I listened to him talk about cricket and his efforts and methods to stay confident. It really struck a chord with me.
It’s one thing to accept you have fears. But it’s another to actually do something about it. I’ve always been very competitive and never scared to do whatever work it took to keep progressing. But I also knew where my weaknesses lay. During a game against Queensland at the Gabba a few years back, the frustration of not being able to overcome those weaknesses really got to me and I decided to act on it in a way I hadn’t previously.
Queensland was the benchmark for aggressive cricket throughout the 1990s. The pitch at the Gabba was always green and fast and they had a fantastic fast-bowling quartet of Andrew Bichel, Adam Dale, Scott Muller and Michael Kasprowicz. As the bowlers were trying to knock you over the fielders would be constantly at you, doing their best to make you feel inferior. I’d had a few years in the WA team by that stage, but I’d never handled pressure as well as I wanted and was very determined in this particular game to prove that I could compete with the hardest blokes in the Shield. My determination, however, was fruitless and I didn’t do as well as I wanted. It was very disappointing because I thought I was ready to take on a team like that. I felt I had the skills to do it, but what was lacking was mental strength.
I thought about who was the most mentally tough cricketer out there. On the surface, at least, that person had to be the Australian captain, Steve Waugh. So, as soon as I was dismissed in the second innings, I got back to the dressing room, got changed, picked up a pen and pad and started writing to him. I wanted to ask Steve to explain how to address fear and build mental strength. I explained my experience at the Gabba and the reasons I believed I’d performed poorly and asked him if there was anything I could do to improve.
LETTER TO STEVE WAUGH
Steve Waugh,
I know you are a very busy man. But it would be hugely appreciated if you could put pen to paper to help me out with just a few words.
How do I become more ‘mentally tough’? What is mental toughness? Playing in a game recently at the Gabba, the Queensland bowlers were chirpy and bowling very tight. I really wanted to get through that tough situation. I went through my same routine each ball, had a clear focus and was readily accepting the pressure.
I’m very big on hard work and preparation. I am a tight player, quite technically correct and like to build up an innings. I’m patient early, watch the ball, work the singles and play straight. But Queensland seemed to really build the pressure up on me by cutting down my scoring options, bowling patiently, giving me hardly any balls to hit. They really chirped in my ear (which is really hard not to listen to). It got to the stage where I didn’t know where my next run was coming from. I have scored runs before against Queensland and I approached my innings positively, but very patiently and relaxed.
I really wanted to do well and I wanted to be tough and enjoy the challenge, but deep down I had this fear of failure or doubt in my mind. How can I approach similar situations? What can I do to prepare myself and believe that I can do it and become a more mentally tough player?
I love the game of cricket and I love batting. There are many different situations one must contend with, some tougher than others. I wish I could handle the really tough situations better so as to improve as a player. I would get enormous satisfaction out of scoring a really tough hundred, with our backs against the wall to get our side into a good position and win the match.
Michael Hussey
However, as I wrote the letter, I realised that I was, in fact, confirming to myself exactly what I needed to do. I started to see that I did give in to myself; I did give in to the fielders’ chirping in my ear; and that what I had to do was be more effective in putting them out of my mind and be more able to concentrate on my job – which was nothing more than to play the next ball. The Queenslanders were very good at making you feel as though you had to change your way of playing and, when you were scoring slowly, they were very good at making you feel like you were letting your team down. I knew, as I was writing, that I needed to focus more strongly on the fact that what I was doing was right for the situation my team was in and nothing should get in the way of that. I ended up getting cold feet and didn’t send the letter. But simply writing it and wondering what advice Steve would have given me helped a great deal.
AT THE AIS I WANT TO WORK ON:
Developing more backfoot shots – evasion, cut, pull, drive
Being quicker on my feet and having better footwork to spinners
Staying side-on to balls on a good length
Leggies, wrong ‘uns, flippers – more control
Becoming fitter and stronger
Getting a better diet.
There are many different ways to build confidence. You have to find what works for you. I have two standout tactics to stay confident: one is stop thinking about playing for Australia because it allows me to be myself. The other is to accept that, because I rely on plans and structures, whenever I reach a crisis point I have to return to my basic game plan. If I stick to those two things, more often than not things will work out well. Even now that I’m playing at the highest level, I have to hold on to those two elementary lines of thinking because they are effective for me.
Finding the best approach, however, is challenging. Holding on to it can be even harder. No matter how strongly you believe in the approach you’ve taken, different circumstances place new and different pressures on you. I want to stay in the Australian team for as long as possible and, though I try to employ my personalised methods of feeling confident, I sometimes slip back into old habits of trying too hard, expecting too much of myself and fearing being ridiculed if I don’t perform the way people want me to.
Challenges will always be there but I have come a long way. I’ve learned that, unlike when I was a kid at Whitfords, I don’t have to be the outstanding player in the team. Playing my role, even that of 12th man (not including the application of Big Tom’s suppositories!) is all my team expects of me and, therefore, all I should expect of myself. At Wanneroo, even though I thought I was too slow at scoring runs, I began
to realise that I played an important role: I was there to get the shine off the new ball for the likes of Marto and other more developed batsmen who came in after me. My batting may have put spectators to sleep, but at least I knew I was part of a team and doing my job within it. That felt good. No ‘butts’ about it.
STEVE WAUGH
I think Mike always had mental strength. Mental strength is – and Wayne Bennett gave me this definition – the ability to not give in to yourself. In other words, to not take the short cuts or easy options. You have to work really hard and make sure it’s quality not quantity. I think Mike had that knowledge but he was probably just too hungry to make it to the top. He was desperate to get there and he might have fallen foul of that for a while.
Mike has always been technically a very good player. But he was probably a little too intense back then and put too much pressure on himself, which is what he seemed to be saying in the letter. He expected too much of himself and didn’t allow himself to relax and let his technique take over. Every time I played against Mike I thought that he was a quality player, but he just wasn’t getting the scores that he probably should have been getting. It was because he was weighing himself down. He was trying so hard to break through to the next level. Once he relaxed a bit and let things happen, the results were great.
When the Australian side was as strong as it was then, a lot of players would overwhelm themselves because they believed that they had to score big runs every week to get a look in. A number of them were focusing too much on the big picture and forgetting the basics of what had made them successful to that point. Michael was probably one of those guys. He was so desperate to play for Australia, it became his focus and he seemed to take his eye off the ball when it came to those other details.
Mr Cricket Page 3