Part 3: The Demons Rally
In most sports, pre-seasons are either loathed or loved—oscillating between overplayed optimism and pragmatic concern. Cricket is no exception.
After a productive off-season recruiting push, Demonland was quietly optimistic in 2009/10. The match committee and Michael Sholly, after canvassing the coaching group, landed two prize catches. Pacer, Rob Cassell, returned to Melbourne after several injury interruptions. And batter, Simon Dart, after a decade away from the Albert, was also a returning Demon. Cassell would take the new ball with Doemer, while Dart's return to the middle order promised to bring valuable experience and depth to the batting lineup.
The junior recruiting was equally impressive. Doug Patrick worked tirelessly behind the scenes, scouring both regional and metropolitan areas for emerging talent. Alex Keath, from Shepparton, was a boarder at Melbourne Grammar. An outstanding dual-sport talent, it seemed Keath was destined for the AFL; for now, he was committed to Melbourne and would play games when study and school sport allowed. Patrick had been tracking Keath's progress for years.
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For many coaches pre-season is their winter playground, a time to shine—Christmas come early, complete with new toys and free from office constraints. Elaborate drills, sketched during winter's quiet moments, emerge from desk drawers ready to meet reality. Some make it, others fall off the wagon. Undeterred, coaches rally around the support staff, leaning into the collective strength that a fresh start provides!
The winter of 2009 saw Melbourne Cricket Club's pre-season take on a different energy. In previous years, pre-seasons had followed a predictable pattern—new players finding their feet while veterans managed their workload with practiced efficiency. But after a positive realignment in 2008/09, the time felt right to push harder. As coaches, we approached the preparation with renewed purpose, though mindful of premier cricket's delicate balance between professional expectations and amateur realities.
I recall a Saturday morning at the Albert where we ran an Albert Park Lake lap. The track is roughly 4.7 kilometres in distance on an asphalt surface, and it is popular with recreational runners. The park is also home to Melbourne's Grand Prix. We ran 'Indian file' formation, adding both complexity and fostering team unity. A small-teams strategy session followed the run.
The details of the strategy session are sketchy. In short, we split into five or six groups and assigned a rotation of tasks to be completed. The tasks involved physical activity, team brainstorming, and individual problem solving. Each group had a leader who acted as the spokesman and general front-man. The hour-long session culminated in a group debrief where each team shared their solutions. This was the part that provided the humour.
During the debrief, I watched Doemer closely. Doemer, the cricketer, holds legend status, while Doemer, the salesman, wasn't far behind. He is one of the very best listeners I have encountered. He's always up for a chat; it's just he doesn't do the chatting, preferring to tease out the information he needs. This method contradicts a salesman's modus operandi, but it's how he operates. Listening is such an undervalued skill. Next time you are with someone you suspect isn't listening, just watch their mind working while you speak—if only more folk could listen to themselves.
And the humour and irony?
In addition to his exemplary listening skills, Doem has an above-average oratory delivery score. I hasten to add that you could liken his vocabulary to the miserly approach that underpins his runs-per-over doctrine. His words, like his bowling, are well-crafted and dependable.
Saying that tongue-in-cheek, it's well-crafted and dependable—sound familiar!
So, when Eiv Bowen, a senior player and leader, thought it best to interject during Doem’s closing remarks, it was both a surprise and hilarious.
I had been zoning out by this stage. While the strategy session appeared to be about team problem-solving, its true purpose was more nuanced—we (the coaches) were trawling for untapped leadership potential. A key component of any coach’s playbook is having reliable eyes on the inside. The best exponents maintain absolute credibility within the playing group while providing coaches with unvarnished insights from the trenches. This discourse is never more valuable than during pre-season when the dynamic between coaches and players can be at its most delicate.
And that Eiv Bowen interjection.
“Look, boys, what Doem is trying to say is this...lardy-da, lardy-da.”
Eiv launched into a hallucination that would put ChatGPT to shame. The exclamation was not remotely miserly in length. Eiv’s rant further confused the intended message, which, honestly, was more of a smoke-screen than functionary. But, you had to see the look on Doemer’s face; it could have stripped paint!
From that point on, I always felt there was resistance between the two. The lesson of the tale? Try to remain on Doemer’s accepted side!
So the dealing was done, the hand looked semi-stacked. New talent, returning tested players, emerging leaders, with round one around the corner, it was time to play our hand.
"If you're gonna play the game, boy. You gotta learn to play it right.”
Please check back next week…
Part 4 please!