On Warne, the greatest of all

And, an illusionist who showed up to help a fellow tweaker ...

Anybody, and everybody, has rightly penned their thoughts on the late, great Shane Warne.

So, this will be my humble attempt.  More, some words to help me understand a person everybody knew, or thought they did - a person I met, and was happy to say I did.

How do you process he is no longer among us.?   That he will never again perpetuate the virtues of his homeland, his love of Melbourne, the St Kilda Football Club, Australian cricket, his new-found home away from home, the commentary box. 

He will never play another round of golf, he’s had his last gasper, no more poker, no more texting.  How do you process that?

Well for now, you cannot. Warnie is gone.

It’s unfathomable that the gruffness in his voice will no longer echo across your living room, the furrowed brow will not be on show and those piercing eyes that never sleep, eyes that stared through the souls of many who stood with him, are now closed forever. 

You cannot, it is impossible, unimaginable to comprehend.

Perhaps it was his want.  A desire to leave the stage as quickly as he found it.

He shocked us all, as has been his need throughout his adult life.  Leaving without an encore, we are all  left wondering. Eternal mystery surrounds him until death do us part.  It feels like an audience left in anticipation, wishing for the curtain to go up one last time.

I am compelled to ask for help. Four paragraphs in and there is a glaze surrounding my vision; the keyboard feels cold and unresponsive; the cursor moves too slowly across the page!

Where else is there to go other than Gideon Haigh’s “On Warne” , “the finest cricket writer alive, on the greatest cricketer of our era’’.

Often, poorly written scripts are helped by sequels: or perhaps an omnibus or trilogy. Elongated drudgery can be the result.  There is no time for a second “On Warne” - there is no need. If you do nothing else to mark the passing of Warne, please find a copy of Haigh’s masterpiece.

I am reliably informed the first draft took Haigh four weeks to finish:  60,000-odd words in a month, both prolific and prophetic.  His prose is perspective and unrushed.  Anecdotes court with a weighty scholarly touch, common to all his work. Thankfully this is no mundane biography, just an outstanding analysis of a mercurial, paradoxical character.

In summary, the book is an unmitigated delight.  Picking but one line is too difficult, more demanding than a Warne flipper! 

It is uncommonly easy to like Shane Warne, and a little harder to say why.  Gideon Haigh knew Warne was not one to be biographed, he simply expounded the former and demystified the latter.  “On Warne” was gifted to me, I am truly thankful to that friend. 

Greg Chappell, the former Australian batsman and captain, was one of many others to share his thoughts. 

How he would bat against Warne, was the central narrative of his piece. Why he felt obligated to document this is questionable at best.  However, he did, and he is a Chappell, after all!

With that being said, his descriptive of Warne was what resonated.  Chappell quotes American naturalist, poet and writer Henry David Thoreau: “It’s not what you look at, it is what you see.”

Chappell likens Warne to an illusionist first and a leg-spin bowler second.  Bravo, say I. He was both an illusionist and a magician. Chappell is correct and has the order right.

Shane Warne was the quintessential illusionist - a trickster.  Chappell categorised Warne as Australia’s best ever spinner, opting not to label him as Australia’s best ever bowler - he is a Chappell after all!

Credit: Sky Sports

Thanks to both correspondents for their contribution.  This segues to my own Warne anecdote.

It was June 2000, the first season of two-division English county cricket.  Durham travelled to Basingstoke to play Hampshire. This  was Warne’s first season with his adopted county and how happy Hampshire were to have him.  And, it was a division one game.

I had inherited the Durham captaincy from one of Warne’s peers, David Boon.  Our team was young, inexperienced and needed some points.

An incorrect call and Robin Smith won the toss.

Cricket pitches can have minds of their own despite the best efforts of curators. This pitch was as dry and dusty as it could be - did Shane Warne really need any assistance?  No, he didn’t!

In summary, Hampshire cobbled together 340 in their first and only innings. Warne contributed a seven-ball duck. We then proceeded to make 83 in our first innings. Following on, we fared slightly better with 93 in the second.  Warne’s figures were 4-34 (18) and 4-22 (11).  Hampshire won by an innings and 164 runs.  We had no chance.  There endeth the story?

Not quite …

There would be more humiliation dished out on Sunday. There was a 50-over game scheduled, this being at the conclusion of the four-day game that barely made it to day three.

Back to the Warne wringer - Sunday!

What happened next has lived with me since that day - Friday, June 16, 2000.

Post-game, Warne entered our dressing room unannounced, carrying beers and gaspers for anyone who wanted to partake.  He sought me out, trying to avert some of the embarrassment that would have been clearly visible. We had mutual friends and had played against each other previously.  He summarised the game in minutes, offered some valuable thoughts on managing a young, inexperienced team  and then asked if he could talk with our young spinner, Nick Phillips.  I said ‘Of course, please do’  He did.

Later, riding back to the hotel, Phillips came and sat next to me.  “How did it go with Warnie?’ I asked.  ‘Unreal’ Nick replied. “He wants to meet at the ground in the morning. He thought we could go through some release variations, field placings, and bowl together in a net with Robin Smith’  ‘Awesome, how good is that’ I replied.

Nick wore a sheepish look. He mumbled ‘What about tonight, the boys are heading out, we have a day off tomorrow’  ‘Yes they do’ I replied.  ‘You don’t - you have a date with Shane Warne!’

I assured Nick I would drive him to the ground for their 10am start, and would be in breakfast from 8.30am.  I just hoped Nick could manage both a free night on the beers, and a morning not to be missed. 

Nick was a good lad.  I was sure he would try to look after himself, it’s just that older teammates can be effectively persuasive, there’s no way they would buy the Warne line.  We would see.

I got to breakfast around 8.40am, it was quiet, no sign of the Durham boys.  A stop at the continental buffet bar, some hot tea and then which table to take - too much choice - after wandering into the back area, low and behold; Nicholas Charles Phillips was in the house.  He looked as fresh as a well picked daisy.

‘Morning’ - ‘Morning’ - was the back and forth.  Nick then proceeded to share his night, or lack of.  He stayed back in his room, evading the efforts of teammates to persuade him otherwise, ordered room-service, and remained alcohol free.  In his words ‘What choice did I have’ - “It is uncommonly easy to like Shane Warne, and a little harder to say why”

We drove to the ground in silence, no need for words, unessential for me to burden the young spinner with questions.  He would find his way - Warne would make sure of this.  All that was left for me to do was to make sure Nick’s date showed up.  Of course he did - a smile and a billow of smoke emitted from his being.

I’d imagine Nick Phillips will remember that time forevermore.  Warne might have forgotten his generous offer of time and matter - for me - Shane Warne will always be, just what he always craved, a bloody good fella.

Credit: Reuters

There will never be another Shane Warne.  The probability is uncomputable.  It is unfeasible to expect a person to possess both his physical attributes and the cognitive genius that embodied Warne.  Old age would have been a grind to him, he rewrote the rules of ‘audience engagement’ - his want might have been to go on his terms, not the want of his audience.

As always, thank you being here at SpeakingNick