As a state selector I’d been aware of Michael as a small but gritty, somewhat dour opening batsman. I knew he had some ability to bowl leg spin as well, had some wicketkeeping talent and was very much a team player. He’d always help out his teammates, coaches and managers. Sometimes young players can give you a hard time on the road, but we thought Michael would be a good person to have on a tour. He was regarded as nothing flash, but just a good all-round package.
We took Michael away and he didn’t perform very well. It was quite rare for many young kids to stand out at these interstate carnivals. You would usually find that 13 guys would go away but only maybe two or three would do well. Michael was certainly nothing like Damien. Damien played one game at Under-19 level, scored 146 not out and the WA selectors rang up and said, ‘Send him home. We want him to play Shield cricket.’ There are some kids that you just know have all the talent. Michael wasn’t one of them and neither was Simon Katich, for that matter. But, in the back of my mind I knew that Michael could end up being the person Wanneroo would need to have open the batting in A-grade.
There must have been something special in the water that he drank, or something, because in that off season he underwent a massive growth spurt. I remember being at the indoor centre at Wanneroo and this bloke came in and said hello. I knew the voice but it took me a while to register that it was Mike because his appearance had changed so much.
It just so happened that around that time Michael first approached me to see if we could do some extra work on his batting. I’d been influenced by John Inverarity a little earlier when I’d been lucky enough to do a course over at the Cricket Academy, where John was teaching, and he’d given me some great new ideas about batting, which I tested out with Michael. It involved drills where you would underarm, or even roll the ball along the ground to the player, who was just a few metres away. We worked on driving at the start, off-driving, straight driving, on-driving and square driving. We had a simple theory that playing cricket is all about getting your body in the right position to play the ball. So we worked a lot on Mike’s posture, getting his head forward and transferring his weight and then hitting the ball and following through as though you were trying to hit the fielder under the chin with the end of your bat. It made sense to Michael. I knew he had sound technique off the back foot so we just hammered away at drives. (And, just as a sideline, we never went near a bowling machine in his first couple of years. I think there’s something to that …)
I don’t know what was pushing Mike; maybe the fact he’d always been smaller than the others and he felt he had to make it up through working hard on his technique. I don’t know, but he had a determination factor that was nearly unmeasurable. These hits we were having became like clockwork. He was never late for a session. He would always be there before me. There were never any distractions to what he wanted to do. He was young and studying at university and doing what young people do. But he always seemed to have time to do extra hours of training and he never rushed the sessions. He would have all his gear ready and prepared. I can never remember a session when he forgot to bring something. He was completely switched on.
Michael was so eager and keen to learn and was willing to train and train. Soon we were having hits three or four nights a week. We counted the number of hits at one stage and it came to nearly 1000 balls across the week. He never once complained. He never said he wanted a break and always accepted whatever I suggested. If I’d wanted to throw 2000 balls, he would have taken them. His hands would have bled but he would have kept going. Eventually the sessions got to the point where we hardly even spoke. He knew exactly what he had to do, would turn up totally prepared and we’d get straight into it. It was quite remarkable.
Michael was not advanced in terms of ability back then, but between the ears he was something special. I train some guys now who think they’re going to play cricket for Australia. But they are kidding themselves because they aren’t willing to work nearly as hard as Michael did. They talk about when they’re going to get picked and all that rubbish, but Michael never spoke about playing for Australia. I knew he dreamt of it, but it wasn’t spoken about. He just loved the idea of working at something and getting better at it.
I couldn’t help but be impressed with Michael’s attitude and we started to see that he was competing well with the top bowlers at the club. I began thinking it was time to give him a chance in A-grade. Two weeks before the season we had a chat and when I asked him how he thought he was progressing he just said, ‘Alright.’ I asked him which grade he thought he would start off in and he said, ‘I’d like to play seconds but, really, I’ll probably be in the thirds.’ The next day we told him he’d be opening in A-grade. He couldn’t believe it.
Technically I knew he would be okay, but the doubt I had in my mind was how he’d go mentally. The first game we had was against a club that happened to have a couple of hard nuts opening the bowling, too, so I was a little worried it might break him instead of make him. But, about 10 minutes into that game, we knew we’d made the right decision. He really took on the job. I think he only made about 18 in his first knock, but he batted for about an hour and fought hard. In his third A-grade game he was run out for 88, so he progressed pretty quickly.
Over the years, one of the things that has really struck me about Michael is that he’s very good at accepting advice from people. It served him well early on and then, as he became more confident and knowledgable, he was very good at working out what suited him and what didn’t. Players get caught up taking on everything. Michael took on all the advice I could give him, but there wasn’t all that much to it. I was a former player but I didn’t know anything about biomechanics or anything fancy like that. We kept it simple and it worked for both of us. Even now when we have sessions when he’s back in Perth it’s still only about 50:50 with the bowling machine. He still likes me to underarm them and throw them and maybe finish by practising the pull or cut with the use of a bowling machine.
But in those early years I told him to listen and try everything and then he could decide later whether he wanted to hold on to those pieces of advice or let them go. I wanted him to listen to a wide variety of people. He told me once about an Australia-A tour to Scotland where he sat down one night with Allan Border and Matthew Hayden and they discussed the sweep shot and the technique needed. He spoke to me about it and – who was I to argue with those blokes – we started working on what they had said.
There is no doubt about it: it is Mike’s work ethic that is the reason he is where he is now. After that same Australia-A tour he came back and said, ‘Allan Border reckons we should train for six hours a day.’ I didn’t take Michael too seriously. We used to have a bye in the competition in those days and he approached me and said, ‘How about on Saturday when we have the bye, we do a six hour practice?’ We went to the indoor centre and started with two hours of variety – underarms, overarms, bowling machines, hitting to different parts of the ground – then we had a lunch break, and did another two hours. We had a tea break and then did another two hours. I just about collapsed. Our lower grades were playing that day. During one of the breaks I actually fell asleep because I was buggered. When I woke up I asked one of the fellas nearby where Michael had gone and he said, ‘He’s just gone for a run.’ I couldn’t believe it.
It wasn’t unusual for him to take things quite literally like that. At the Academy they suggested he keep a diary, so he wrote down absolutely everything. I was always a bit sceptical about all that sort of thing – if you get a hundred, write down whether the sun was shining or whatever. For me it was more about common sense. But it worked for Michael so it was great and you can’t deny that for him it was worthwhile.
Another thing that stands out in my mind when I think about why Mike is successful now is that way back at age 20 or 21, he seemed to have a really obvious potential to lead. He would have people follow him, not so much because he was a good batsman, but more because he was a good bloke. At
the club, Michael was in the As, but he had a lot of mates from all the grades. Sometimes at clubs, players get into A-grade and get a big head and stop socialising with people from the lower grades. But that was a quality of Michael’s that I liked. He had no ego at all. Even now I tell him that he’s just a cricketer; he’s just there to entertain people. He knows that. He doesn’t see himself as a hero. It’s not like he’s inventing a cure for cancer or anything like that.
I don’t know everything about Michael, but I do think that one of the reasons we’ve had such a good association for so long was because we both shared a bit of a fear of failure. I played my cricket like that and I suspected that he struggled a bit with confidence, even though it was hard to pick up. He thought he’d start off in thirds at the club. When he got picked for WA I know that he wondered for a long time whether he was good enough. Even now, I think he still battles with that a bit. But I don’t think it’s a bad thing. I think it’s good to have some fear because it makes you try harder. It can steel you and that’s what it did for Michael.
I remember we were working away in the nets one day a long time ago and he said, ‘I don’t know how I can ever repay you for this.’ I shook my head and just said it’s not an issue. He promised that he’d sponsor me to come to his first Test match. We had a bit of a chuckle about it and that was that. When he was selected to join the Australian squad for that Test in Brisbane he rang me and said, ‘What are you doing on Thursday?’ I said, ‘Nothing much. Watching the cricket on the TV, I guess.’ He said, ‘How would you like to come to Brisbane?’ He’d just found out that he was going to start the match and rang me almost straight away to tell me to get over there.
It was a great thrill for me to go to Brisbane with his family. But we all felt so bad for Mike when he got out in the first innings for one. I saw him a couple of nights later and he was deeply hurt that he hadn’t succeeded for his family. He felt like they’d all come over to watch him and he’d let everyone down. It just reinforced in my mind that there is a very different quality about this guy compared to most cricketers.
In the second innings he got out for 29 and was shattered that he hadn’t gone on. Then in his second Test he got a hundred and then just kept going in his next few Tests. All of a sudden we had this mad run-making machine. Often you hear on the TV when Michael’s batting the commentators say that his technique is as good as anybody’s. It makes me feel good to know that I had something to do with that.
CHAPTER 7
GOALSETTING
Routines, preparation and even superstitions are only relevant if you know what your goals are. Sandy Gordon gave me a great education on how to get the most out of my preparation. But it was another wonderful man who helped me clearly define exactly what I was trying to achieve.
I met Vic Smith through Noddy Holder, who knew Vic through the Scarborough Cricket Club. I’d been working with Noddy on the technical side of the game and he suggested that I have a coffee with Vic and see what he had to say about the mental aspect. Being so keen to explore all possible avenues to improve, I jumped at the chance.
Within a few minutes of us meeting, I found Vic to be an incredibly smart man, very switched on and fascinating to listen to and learn from. He started talking through his big lisp and some heavy breaths about mental skills and he asked me how I went about setting my goals. He listened to me talk for a while before he began giving me suggestions. Each suggestion he gave made complete sense. Within a short time of meeting Vic, he had helped me to rationalise, if not revolutionise, the way I went about setting my goals.
Vic’s advice was to set out a very systematic process of goalsetting. The first step was outcome goals. My outcome goal at the time was to play Test cricket. But, of course, that can be a goal that is very hard to control. There might not be any injuries in the team and therefore no openings. The team might have won 14 Tests in a row (which they had done around the time of my meeting with Vic) and no changes would be made. There are many reasons why the goal of playing Test cricket depends on external factors.
Success seldom comes quickly, and almost never comes easily. Most of us miss our best opportunities in life because they use the disguise of hard work.
So Vic took it down a level. The second step became the performance goal, where I would ask myself, ‘What do I have to do to achieve my outcome goal of playing Test cricket?’ I believed the answer was to score five or six Sheffield Shield hundreds – not just hundreds, but big hundreds – and win man-of-the-match awards so as to be noticed by the selectors. But here, too, was a problem. The goal of scoring five or six hundreds depends on factors outside of your control. You might have to bat on some bad pitches on which scoring runs is extremely hard. You might get run out a few times or be unlucky enough to get out to the bowler’s best ball of the day. Perhaps some games will get rained out. There is nothing you can do about these circumstances, yet they can make scoring that many centuries impossible.
So Vic said to reduce it again. The next step down was process goals. At this level, I would ask myself, ‘What things do I need to do to give myself a chance to score those hundreds, to win man-of-the-match awards and to get noticed by the selectors?’ My answers were starting to become more achievable. To give myself a chance to do those things I needed to bat my way, stick to my plans, never give in to myself (one of Dad’s old lines), stay mentally tough and stick to my batting keys – the things I know give me a good chance of batting well. Vic’s advice began to take shape in my mind because I could see how each step was not only linked but, as you went down each level, they became more realistic, attainable and controllable. If I fulfil the obligations of step three, the first two steps become possible.
But there was a fourth step. This was the ‘how or what’ stage. How or what do I need to do to give myself the best chance of sticking to my plans, playing my game and sticking to my batting keys? Here were specific process goals that I could definitely control. It was no longer about lofty dreams that depended to such a large degree on external factors. I now had a list of things in front of me that were completely my responsibility and, if I didn’t follow the list, there was no one to blame but myself. I could get nine hours of sleep, I could follow particular diets, I could train with 100 per cent intensity, I could face my fears. I had the power and was no longer crossing my fingers for luck to play a part.
LETTER FROM VIC SMITH (JUNE 2001)
Dear Mike,
As you know, the problem of teams getting into winning positions and not going on with it is not uncommon, although it is indicative of a lack of mental discipline or toughness.
Probably the first mistake players make when in a winning position is to begin to focus upon outcomes as opposed to processes.
For example, they think about winning (which casts their minds into the future) instead of thinking about what they have to do to win (focus on the very next ball, be alert in the field, apply additional pressure, etc) which keeps their minds in the present. As the game begins to get away from them, they begin to worry about losing, which keeps their minds in the future while putting additional pressure on them. Before they know it, they have handed control to the opposition (who by now are positive and enthusiastic). This loss of control causes players to become rushed with results and inevitable mistakes. Self-talk becomes increasingly negative, tensions increase, and the rest is history. Anyway, enough for the diagnosis … We need to look at some remedies! So here are a few suggestions:
1. When you get a team 7–70, chasing 170, it’s easy to relax and take the pressure off while you wait for the other batsmen to get themselves out. After all, you’ve got 100 runs to play with. Why not reset your target so as to keep everyone focused on the task at hand. For example, set a target of getting the opposition all out for 100.
2. During a break, give all players specific instructions about what they personally have to do, without worrying about what other team members are doing or thinking. For instance, tell the pace and medi
um-pace bowlers to keep the ball up just outside off stump. Tell them to get into position quickly after each over to keep the pressure on the batsman. Encourage a lot of positive talk among players. Tell the fielders (or batsmen, if you’re batting) to control the pace and tempo of the game by either slowing things down (if the opposition batting well, or speeding things up if they are losing wickets).
3. Instruct players to say encouraging and positive things to themselves (self-talk) and to instruct themselves in terms of what they want to do, not what they don’t want to do (the subconscious mind cannot think in the reverse of an idea … so it doesn’t understand or attend to the word DON’T). If you doubt me, try this: ‘Don’t think of pink elephants!’ How did you go? So if a bowler doesn’t want to bowl short, he should tell himself to ‘Keep the ball up on the off stump’, as opposed to saying ‘Whatever you do, don’t bowl short!’
4. When things are getting out of hand (e.g. bowling, batting or fielding poorly) there is a strong tendency to analyse technique. This should be resisted as it will result in a loss of timing and rhythm (by incorporating the left brain).
5. At training sessions set up (or have them imagine) scenarios that put players under pressure. For instance, instead of just bowling in the nets, a bowler could imagine that he is bowling the last overs of a match and that he has to restrict the batsman to one run per over (or none) for three overs in order to win the game. A batsman can create a similar scenario in which he has to score four runs per over to win the match.
Mr Cricket Page 11