I describe myself as an optimistic writer. Steve Smith would likely identify as a cricketer, nothing more, nothing less. He is a humble man. Moreover, we started our respective pursuits simultaneously—in 2013 or thereabouts. More about that later.
Recently, Australian great Smith said, “no more” to one-day international (ODI) cricket after Australia’s semi-final loss to India in the Champions Trophy. Ominously for English supporters, Smith signalled his want mitigated his decision to prolong an already stellar Test career.
“Test cricket remains a priority,” Smith said in a statement after his side’s loss. “And I am looking forward to the World Test Championship final, the West Indies in the winter and then England at home. I feel I still have a lot to contribute on that stage.”
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Consistent with his character, Smith has continually maintained he would continue weighing his value on a series-by-series basis.
“It has been a great ride, and I have loved every minute of it,” said Smith.
“There have been so many amazing times and wonderful memories. Winning two World Cups was a great highlight, along with the many fantastic teammates who shared the journey.”
Smith and his like are viewed in an unjustly critical regard by many looking in from the outside. Expectations are lofty, and acknowledgment of the standard of competition is diluted by a personal connection that, at times, borders on obsession. Smith, and similarly those who endure as he has, reach an apex on their career curves that returns them to a game they knew as juniors, where teammates and camaraderie rule the space. Some argue this is the ‘old boys club’—perhaps it is—but this is one of the driving forces behind their continued excellence. Australian club cricket is the most significant democratic leveller of egos on planet cricket.
So, to the facts. The numbers tell one story: 170 ODIs, 5,800 runs at an average of 43.28, including 12 centuries—two World Cup victories in 2015 and 2023. But the statistics, impressive as they are, fail to capture the essence of Smith’s ODI career—the perfectly manicured ‘unorthodox’ technique that shouldn’t work but does, the ability to pace an innings within an inch of its life, those catches that only an elite few pull in, the immeasurable knack for rising to the occasion when it matters most.
How did it all come together? Belief. Early on, Smith had to trust his method fully. He was not an outlier, but he indeed traveled on a path not well-trodden.
And returning to the confluence of his emergence and my early steps into print.
In mid-2013, I was voluntarily dispatched to the UK. England had five Tests, and then it was back to Australia for a further five—a super-Ashes of sorts.
My brief was intermittent reporting from the grounds or a suitable vantage point. In Melbourne, Charlie Happell and Jon Howcroft (Backpagelead) would knock my musings into readable shape and then publish them to their popular sports media site. The gold ticket on my part was the ECB media pass that granted ground entry and a seat in the press box/media centre—it was nice to see many familiar faces.
Fast-forward to the fifth Test from the Oval, where the Steve Smith connection takes shape. I filed a piece after Smith recorded his maiden Test hundred. Given his career's infancy and stuttering state, it contained one or two outlandish claims. You can read the full article here.
I was forwarded some comments/reviews of the 2013 post a few years hence—my apologies for the self-indulgence.
This insightful (sorry) 2013 article uncannily forecasted Steve Smith's meteoric rise in cricket. The writer (that's me) identified Smith as potentially Australia's best batsman besides Michael Clarke and a future leader when Smith had just scored his maiden Test century—foolish predictions can come true! Smith has become one of the greatest Test batsmen of all time (averaging over 60 for much of his career) and served as Australia's captain—and he's still going, recently passing 10,000 Test runs. The article's insight into Smith's unorthodox but effective technique, mental toughness, and leadership potential identified qualities defining his illustrious international career.
Like Smith's early career, my writing lacked a clear identity. Before finding his true calling, he tried to be all things—bowling all-rounder, fielding specialist, and even briefly a wicketkeeper. Sometimes, knowing what to let go is as important as knowing what to keep.
So, what did Smith keep? As a batsman whose technique resits conventional coaching manuals and whose pre-delivery routine borders on the obsessive-compulsive, this clarity of purpose is almost jarring. Smith has always been a walking contradiction—the most reliable batsman with the least reliable technique, the consummate team man with the most individualistic methods.
That's the lesson in Smith's career trajectory for us to embrace: find what you do best, double down on it, and have the courage to let the rest go.
One day, we will miss the scraping, tapping, incessant fidgeting, and consistent run-plundering.
I hope this didn't read like an obituary; the intention was to highlight the undervalued genius of Steven Smith.