"Your Ashes" Darce 'Dugan' McKerihan and Neil Fairbrother—The Canberra Connection
Sounds like a Netflix mini-series, "The Canberra Connection!" It's not, just a terrific 'Your Ashes" yarn from Easts Cricket Club, Canberra, and Darce McKerihan
Foolish first question:
What do Neil Harvey Fairbrother and Darce McKerihan have in common?
Easy answer. Very little! Allow me to elucidate.
One, Fairbrother, was a left-handed magician who could thread needles through an off-side field with his eyes closed. And then, if truth be known, Darce was a right-handed slogger with an untidy backswing that generally sent things over rather than through.
Wait, there’s more:
World Cup finals, possibly Lancashire’s greatest ever one-day batsman, Test cricketer, golf bandit, card shark, etc. As for Darce, we’ll spare his blushes
Hang on a minute. Very little is not nothing, though.
Neil Harvey Fairbrother and Darcy ‘Dugan’ McKerihan do have something in common!
Easts Cricket Club (Canberra)
Yes, it’s true; both played for the mighty Easts (now Eastlake CC). Oh, and both have suited up for Grappenhall CC (Cheshire)—the home club of Neil Harvey Fairbrother.
Fairbrother paved the way for many Lancastrians to spend their winters in the nation's capital—myself included.
Others notables were: Steve O'Shaughnessy, Ken McLeod, John Abrahams, Mike Watkinson, Peter Martin, Steve Titchard, Steven Bramhall and even the great Tim Orrell. Apologies if I missed anyone.
And our reader, Darce McKerihan, well, he was the host to all.
I will say that Darce is an absolute ripper. Now on a permanent secondment in Queensland—who can blame him?—he still keeps a close eye on everything cricket and beyond. Not much gets past our ‘Dugan’.
Enough from me; it's time to hand over to Darce.
I was delighted he sent through his “Your Ashes”. I know you will enjoy the read.
Any new, or upgraded subscription (Annual only) will receive a free signed copy of Gideon Haigh’s “On the Ashes” (30 signed copies only) (value $35)
Early in the piece, when I was but a wee lad in the chilly confines of a Canberra winter, bedtime often interfered with my Ashes viewing.
I realise now that this wasn’t to my liking.
My mother was adamant; it would only be the first session. It was school before cricket in the McKerihan house.
Then the cycle finally broke in 1981. Botham’s Ashes.
I will always be indebted to Ian ‘Beefy’ Botham. Fuck Ian Chappell, grumpy old prick! I’m with you, Beefy.
What a place to start! Simply brilliant. I was hooked. Contempt for the Poms was born—Beefy aside.
"That’s the over, gentlemen." It's time to ask myself an important question:
So when did I enter the domain of cricket purists?
“I believe it was the summer of 1982/83.”
The Boxing Day Test that had everyone—me included—on the edge of our seats (that nobody, including my sister, was allowed to move from).
Allan Border, Jeff Thomson, Geoff Miller, Chris Tavare—I could go on. Oh, and that man Botham again! Bloody Pom’s.
This was as good a theatre as I had ever seen.
Perhaps I was a too young to be a purist, but no, life is short of prodigies.
I must have been a cricket-purist prodigy!
The next 40 years saw me devour Ashes cricket in ways I could never have anticipated!
Kerry Packer came and went.
White Balls, coloured clothing, and Mickey Mouse cricket even became a thing—of sorts. (Cricket had developed its own pornography.)
And people watched it in their droves. Armed with Esky’s of cold beer and super-short shorts. Life was good for some; I could take it or leave it.
For me, Test cricket was all that mattered. Especially when we played the Pom’s. The very mob who thought they owned the game.
Although I have watched considerably more on the TV screen than live, nothing changes; Ashes cricket has always transfixed me.
Melbourne, Sydney, The Gabba, Old Trafford, Headingley, and The Oval are the grounds I have been fortunate to watch live. As I transition to retirement, I hope to add to my live Ashes experiences and maybe even sit with Mr. Fairbrother at Old Trafford.
I always said to Harvey, "You don’t have to be a Test cricketer to tour well!"
There’s touring, and touring well.
Canberrans can tour! (Of course they can; what is there to do in Canberra?)
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And Darce goes on a Canberra marketing splurge!
Hell, we had it all in Canberra:
Dollar Night, Nude lychees at Stabs, Supervised nights under lock-and-key after a Saturday washout. Sunday Sessions. Tours to Potato Point. Easter Test Matches and the Battle of the Dushkas. Maddies. Rudes. El Rancho. La Grange. The Pavilion. The Bin. Tweeny Jugs.
It never stopped!
And then we woke up.
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So, we circle back all the way back to Fairbrother’s Old Trafford.
No doubt he will be in the house.
For me it will be the Northern suburbs of Brisbane, and no curfews! Perhaps watching the retention of the urn, the death of Bazball, and a new (or hopefully not) Open Champion down the road at Hoylake.
Bring it on.
It is heaven. Pure Heaven.
Oh, and by the way, Neil Harvey Fairbrother is a bloody beauty.
As is every Grappenhall and Lancastrian Pommy I ever crossed paths with.
Cheers,
Darce
There you have it. Thank you ‘Dugan’.
Let me know “Your Ashes” story? Just send an email to; speakingnick@gmail.com
As always, thank you for being here.
