Test of Will

by Glenn McGrath

  I met up with Sara once more on a trip to Johannesburg and upon returning to Sydney I was still doing my best to fight my feelings. Then came the day when I was walking through the mall in Cronulla and I was wondering why I felt so low. It was then that it struck me: I was lonely and I was missing Sara. I could no longer lie to myself about how I felt. I realised I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life by myself. I realised I had fallen totally in love with Sara and wanted her to be with me.

  I left for India the next day for the Champions League and during the stopover in Singapore I contacted Sara and asked her to move to Australia. I was ecstatic that she said ‘yes’ without any hesitation. Sara moved over, but she didn’t move in straight away. I wanted to introduce her to James and Holly before she lived with us. We thought a great way to do that was a holiday to Disney World in Orlando. Sara had grown up in Miami and been to Disney World on numerous occasions. It was a great idea and Sara and the kids got on extremely well while we were there.

  It was February before the first photograph of Sara and me appeared in the gossip columns. The photographer who took it sold it for $95,000—if I knew it would fetch that amount I would’ve sold one myself! Regardless, the cat was out of the bag. We hadn’t tried to keep our relationship a secret, but we hadn’t gone out of our way to let the media know about it either. What happened after that shocked me. We had six to seven cars of paparazzi following us daily; they were like shadows and we couldn’t turn without a camera clicking or a flash casting more light on our relationship. I had never experienced anything like it before and I guess it provided me with an insight into what Shane Warne’s life must be like. Sara took it very well, although there were times when she was overwhelmed by it all. I knew Sara was the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with; I made that decision when I asked her to Australia. We were soon engaged and then married at our home in Cronulla on 18 November 2010. It was a very private ceremony, immediate family only. But unfortunately nothing is a secret in Sydney and the media found out about it. We had numerous journalists camp out at the top of our driveway, there were boats on the water and three helicopters hovered above the house for the entire time. The scenes outside belied the calm and happiness inside our house where, upon saying our nuptials, Sara became Sara Leonardi-McGrath.

  We repeated our vows on 4 July 2011 in a beautiful church in Acireale, the small town in Sicily where Sara’s family home had been.

  Sara is an amazing wife and she is also an attentive stepmother to James and Holly. She looks after the children as though they are her own and I can see her love for them in the tears of pride she cries while watching such things as Holly performing in a play or reciting poems from memory on stage at school. It is very special—she loves them and they love her back. To know this reinforces that I made the right decision in asking Sara to become a part of our family, though I never had any doubts. The love that’s within our family is the reason why we decided to add to it.

  As someone with a business degree from the University of Rome, Sara values education and in doing so she shares my belief that Holly and James’s schooling is a priority. Although I myself have long been a big believer in the need to keep learning and to improve ourselves. We train our bodies to keep healthy but we should be just as vigilant to keep the mind alert by feeding it.

  Sara is the most loyal, passionate and caring person I know. She is very protective and has a no-nonsense, direct approach to handling things (I think that’s the Italian combined with a touch of Latino in her). She says she likes it when I assert myself and take control of situations. She has an adventurous spirit; she loves to travel and prefers the chaos of India to the serenity of outback Australia. Sara is always searching for new experiences and is definitely an ideas person. She is the perfect wife and an incredible mother. I hope it’s obvious that I love her with all my heart.

  3

  PARENTHOOD

  You can never say never, you don’t know what can happen in life. Glenn never thought he was going to get remarried and I didn’t even think about kids until I met him. I never thought to have them or not to have them but when you meet that person you want to share that gift with them.

  But, we’re not starting a family—we’re building on the family we already have. I would not have adopted, I would not have used eggs from anyone else because I already have two [step]children who love me and adore me and satisfy any parental need. People can talk about biology but everyone loves what they love, how they love …

  —Sara

  One of the happiest moments after Sara fell pregnant was witnessing the reaction from James and Holly when they heard the news. James gave us both a loving hug and kiss, Holly was ecstatic and I’ll remember it as a time that defined our sense of ‘family’. As Sara said, we weren’t creating a new family, we were simply building upon the one we had.

  The thought of announcing our news to James and Holly (after Sara had endured the worst imaginable morning sickness every day for three months) made Sara nervous—although I know she’ll say otherwise—and I found that funny, because by nature she’s a very confident, very self-assured person. This was one occasion where she didn’t know how the kids would react. Although she’d later rationalise there was never going to be a problem because during our time together we’ve provided the kids with an environment of safety, reliability, stability and reassurance so, as she said, there was no reason why they wouldn’t be pleased with what awaits us.

  Regardless, she broke the news in her own unique way—by writing each of them a beautiful card to express the happiness she felt at being pregnant and how she hoped having another sibling would add even more to their lives. It really was a special time and, as it turned out, she needn’t have had any concerns because James had been asking us for years when were we going to have a baby, and he was over the moon to think we’d listened to him.

  The kids’ response signalled the end to three months of waiting … and waiting … and waiting … because we wanted to ensure everything was fine with the baby before we shared the news. The pregnancy has brought us all even closer, and Sara’s rationale was that it was due to the collective realisation that we’re going to have one ‘piece’ that’ll be a part of all of us. Sara’s desire to have a baby actually stemmed from being a stepmother to James and Holly. I think what best represents the depth of her feeling for them is the simple fact she never uses the word ‘step’ to describe her relationship with our kids. In the five years since we married, she’s never once referred to them as ‘your kids’ or introduced them to anyone as ‘Glenn’s kids’ because she believes to say anything other than ‘our kids’ would betray the bond she and the kid’s have established and share. I consider her view as not only important, but one that is quite moving. It’s also heartening for me to know that as an only child herself, Sara was happy to think that if we should have a baby girl, she’ll have Holly as her big sister. Sara views Holly as someone with a caring and special nature, and says she’s exactly the type of person she would have loved to have as her big sister. Needless to say she’s taken it, as have I, as a ‘given’ that James will be a protective big brother.

  Becoming a dad again at 45 was yet another way in which my life bucked the path I figured it would follow. In 2003 I underwent a vasectomy after Holly was born, and while I consider being a father as perhaps my greatest achievement, at the time of the procedure I thought, That’s it, I’ll put the cue back in the rack. Even when I met and married Sara—something I vowed would never happen—my inclination was to not have another child. However, five years into our marriage, Sara and I thought becoming parents would be an expression, and an extension, of our love. I also believe that a child needs to be brought into the world through love and not as an emotional bandaid you sometimes hear of when people say ‘we thought a child would be good for our relationship’.

  While we had our plan to have a child, there was also a lot for us to consider. I’d turned 45, and that meant I’d be 66
at our 3rd child’s 21st birthday party. I know there are people who say that doesn’t matter, but it was something I figured required careful consideration. Ultimately, I came to the same conclusion: while I mightn’t be in the backyard in 2030 playing a game of footy, I could at least ensure our youngest would be well loved and given good guidance. The idea of raising another child as I grew … older … didn’t matter because, while some people say that’s the stage of your life when you want time to look at sunsets and the like, the fact is Sara, Holly, James and I love doing things together as a family, and this adventure will be no different. However, there was the matter of the vasectomy I had 12 years earlier that needed to be dealt with first of all …

  I went to the fertility doctor with no idea of what my part would be in the process. Being a father already, I was well aware of the absolute pain women endure to deliver a child, and when I heard the description of the procedure I’d undergo, I was quite certain it would bring tears to my eyes. Now it’s been done—and I survived intact—I can honestly say that every bloke I’ve spoken to about it (and it hasn’t been too many) has visibly winced as they heard me explain my side of the story …

  The tests we underwent revealed good news: I had healthy sperm and Sara’s eggs were viable. However, the doctors said there was no point in reversing my vasectomy because the chances of a natural conception were described as unlikely. The doctor explained that eight years after a bloke has a vasectomy, proteins that attach themselves to the sperm prevent fertilisation of the woman’s eggs. Because my snip had occurred 12 years earlier, they said we had no chance of conceiving naturally. The only option available to us was IVF, and that meant Sara needed to take a concoction of hormones for over five months to allow for the ‘harvesting’ of the eggs that would eventually be fertilised by my sperm.

  My role in the miracle of birth was ‘simply’ allowing a doctor to take a tissue sample from one of my testes to extract sperm and, mercifully, the process took all of five minutes. As Sara noted, it all happened while I was knocked out! However, we were keen that our desire to have a child wasn’t played out in the media. We didn’t need the kind of attention that had surrounded us when word leaked that Sara and I were engaged, and we were stalked by the paparazzi. So whenever we attended the IVF clinic, it was akin to undertaking a secret mission. Sara formulated a plan, which meant I wouldn’t go to the clinic until the actual day of my procedure. Even then I’d have to wait until she’d left before entering. I also wasn’t allowed to make eye contact with anyone in the waiting room because she figured someone might recognise me. (Well, that made me smile: I’m 196.5 centimetres tall and had played a bit of cricket for Australia, so I was going to be hard to miss.) In the end, Sara and I were extremely grateful—if anyone did notice me at the clinic, they had the good grace to respect our privacy, because we definitely didn’t need the pressure that would most certainly have come with our fertility being a ‘story’.

  Our sperm and eggs were mixed to create embryos, and over the next few months Sara was constantly monitored to gauge when her body was ready to receive one. It was a difficult time for Sara; long after the pain in my testes had dissipated, her hormones were knocked out of alignment, and during our first attempt the embryo didn’t ‘take’. Thankfully, it was only a temporary setback. When we were successful at our second shot, we felt quite blessed because, as Sara and I appreciate, there are many couples who sadly don’t experience that joy despite their courage, persistence and the love that’s needed to endure years of attempting to produce a baby through IVF. Both of us know we’re fortunate, and when the story about our pregnancy broke, a lot of people made a point of telling us they were just so happy to hear a positive outcome for a change. When people ask why we’re having a baby, I like Sara’s response: it was simply a matter of life … and love.

  Being a father and husband means there are already three people in the world—James, Holly and Sara—whose lives I consider to be more important than my own, especially the kids because of the love and the sense of responsibility I have for them. They’re the most important treasures in my life, particularly after all we’ve been through. I’m with Sara because I love her, and the kids are a part of who I am—it feels like they have been part of my life forever. James is 15 and Holly 13 at the time of writing this book—I can’t imagine being without them. I was present when both of the kids were born and it was everything you’d expect: an emotional day and a time of wishing every blessing and wanting to do everything possible for the bundle of joy you cradle in your arms. Adding to the emotion of their arrivals was the fact that James and Holly were described as ‘miracles’, because they were born after doctors gave Jane and I no hope of conceiving as a result of the medication she required when she was fighting the breast cancer.

  So, the medical experts were proven wrong, and together the kids brought a lot of joy into our lives. I remember the time I saw James and Holly have their first conversation, and while I’d give anything to remember what it was they were talking about, I remember well how I, feeling fascinated, watched them interact.

  I loved playing cricket—it was ‘living the dream’, as some people say when they’re happy with their profession—but all the time I spent away from home really did weigh heavily on my mind, whether I was on tour or on a training camp. Jane was the closest thing to being a single mother, without actually being one. While she tried hard to ensure I didn’t miss the important moments of their lives by keeping detailed scrapbooks, taking photographs and videoing such things as birthday parties, it could never be a substitute for actually being there. Sometimes seeing what I was missing out on at home made it even tougher to be away … it reached the stage where it was a bit of a tug of war. The way I coped was to reconcile myself to the fact that cricket and touring was my job, and that was how I provided for us. I would be away for a while, but when I returned I made sure we always enjoyed quality time together. I thought to myself that the notion of ‘quality time’ made up for a lot, because in another life I could’ve had a 9 to 5 job and been stuck at the office working on a project while the kids were at home; I could get home tired, cranky; and maybe we could’ve had a bit of time together over the weekend before the grind would start all over again on Monday. It was a good way to deal with our situation when I spent a lot of time away, and I embraced it because I needed to believe it. It reached the stage where I’d say goodbye to Jane and the kids at home before I left for a tour, because I didn’t like the airport farewells and the fact that those last few minutes before you’d be separated for weeks—and it’s awful—were treated as fodder for photographers or television news crews. Of course, once I joined the team I slipped straight into my role as fast bowler and team ‘pest’, annoying the guys by throwing things at them—and I really enjoyed their friendship and the sense of camaraderie we shared. But there was always a sadness when I heard the door shut behind me and the kids calling out ‘bye’ as I walked towards the taxi I’d catch to the airport.

  During the drive to the airport, I would tell myself I loved playing cricket (but not as much as my family), that it provided good money for my family, and went over in my head whatever other thoughts might help. Ultimately, I realised I was spending too much time away from my family, and that was the deciding factor when I started to think perhaps the time was drawing near when I’d hang up the bowling boots.

  In the build-up to the 2006–07 season, I spent eight months at home when Jane fell ill. It was actually a great time for me as a father, and I was pleased to be doing what’s called the normal ‘Dad’ things. It opened my eyes to everything I’d been missing out on, so many good times and magic moments. Something I learnt during that time was that my family had its own routines, and there were times when I’d go to do something and the kids would say ‘but we don’t do it that way, Dad’. That was as much a shock to the system as it was an eye-opener. It also made me think about my own childhood. Apart from having my mum and dad around—well, until they
divorced—my siblings Donna, Dale and I also had our grandparents nearby, so, without even realising it, there was always a sense of ‘comfort’ that we had people looking out for us. My kids didn’t have that, because my parents and siblings lived almost 500 kilometres away in the Far West and Jane’s family was on the other side of the world, and that played on my mind. In the eight months we were together, I formed a deep attachment with the kids: the love was always there, but being with them day in day out was great, and I learnt a lot from seeing the world through their eyes, too.

  Holly has many of Jane’s characteristics; Jane was creative—and I’m pleased Holly has inherited that streak—while James loved having his father around him. It made me think a lot about my relationship with my father. Dad was a hard worker, he provided for us and battled tough times. My term for him is ‘good man’, and he instilled in me a lot of positive principles. However, when he and Mum divorced, he moved away. It wasn’t until I turned 25 and had broken up with my girlfriend at the time after I returned from the West Indies tour in 1995 that I went out west and spent three weeks with him on his farm. We reconnected and became close again. There was never an issue between us; Dad did his thing and I did mine, but that meant we could go for months without talking. The three weeks I spent out on the farm with Dad was probably the most time we’d spent together in the previous ten years, and the sense of ‘reconnection’ I felt then was the same I felt with my own children in that extended time at home, especially with James. Holly had me wrapped around her little finger, but I could see in James there was a need to have his dad around to kick the footy with or to play cricket, and to also be told by his dad what to do … they were the same needs I had when I was a boy.