"Your Ashes" - from Wurdiboluc, Victoria
Reader Rob 'Snicko' Cameron contributes his own unique and entertaining "Your Ashes" memories.
Situated south-west of Geelong, Wurdiboluc is a rural locality in Victoria, Australia, with a dwindling population of 569 people as of the 2016 census.
And yes, it is the birthplace of Rob ‘Snick’ Cameron, of the Cameron clan.
Rob is a man of many talents. Or, I should say, ‘Snick’ is a man of many talents.
It took me some time to ask Rob, Why ‘Snick? Snick explained:
"I was down the nets (cricket) as a young tacker, and the coach was doing some grading. I wasn’t sure if I was in the appropriate net, as the bowling was fast and accurate—I was 10 at the time. I edged one behind, then another, and the Hat-trick came soon after, upon which the coach—who’ll remain nameless—shouted out, "Rhighto Snick, that’s enough young fella; take those pads off and have a bowl; that might be better suited!"
‘Snick’ remains to this day, to the point where Rob actively promotes its use!
Anyway, Snick does wear many hats; here are a few:
He shears and looks after sheep. There’s farm management. He’s a host on Geelong’s community radio—94.7 The Pulse. A local football and netball commentator. An MC of biblical standards. A cricket tragic. The mayor of Inverleigh. And the list goes on…
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)
Thanks to Rob for sharing his “Your Ashes” memories. I hope you enjoy the read.
‘The Ashes’ have been entrenched in my cricket world from the earliest memories of "front yard" cricket on the family dairy farm at Wurdiboluc.
On warm summer evenings, with the cows safely back in the night paddock after happily giving over their day's work, my father would join his five sons in the vast expanses of the open front yard bordering Cape Otway Road.
This was the single memory of my father sharing cricket with his youngest son.
As a rule, my summer Saturdays were spent at the Modewarre Cricket Club, but the unfaltering demands of the cows kept my father at home.
Those summer evenings were special.
My second-oldest and favourite brother, Des, would always be in charge of proceedings. Des was good at this stuff.
He had to be Australia, and always I. R. Redpath (Redders) when it was his turn to bat, on the wicket he had meticulously prepared with the 32-inch Victa (Mower) and a makeshift roller from my mother’s vegetable garden. His four siblings were all well aware that his self-appointed role as groundsman was to avoid his turn dodging the lifting tails in the pit of the herringbone dairy. Des was a smart cookie!
My father had only two stipulations. Firstly, he had to be on the Australian team, and secondly, despite having left the game many years earlier, he was always the enigmatic Keith Miller. No one dared to argue.
Being the youngest, the dubious game regulations left me with little bargaining power. I was on the Poms team and reluctantly assumed the role of one G. Boycott. (Geoffrey)
I quickly loathed the name Boycott and resented every run he made against Australia. Sadly, there were plenty of them!
Boycott also provided me with the single biggest highlight of watching Ashes cricket live at the MCG.
World Series Cricket was alive and well when the Poms arrived in Australia for the 1978–79 Ashes series. The Bob Simpson role of fill-in skipper had ended in the West Indies earlier that year, and the young, inexperienced Aussies were placed under the control of a very talented, but wet behind the ears, Graham Yallop.
Times were different then.
The Boxing Day start was still a marketing embryo, and this was the final year bowlers were asked to produce eight deliveries to complete an over. The MCG Test was the third of a six-Test series.
With Christmas lunch a distant memory, Yallop went to the toss on the morning of December 29th, already two nil down. When Mike Brearley called incorrectly, the inexperienced pair of Graeme Wood and Rick Darling started a gutsy Aussie fight back.
I joined some Modewarre teammates on the long trek to the "G" for day two.
We were full of optimism as Wood, who had laboured his way to an unbeaten 100 the night before, resumed in partnership with a relatively unknown NSW debutant.
Little did we know how much joy A.R. Border would provide us over the next 16 years. Border edged Mike Hendrick to third man for a boundary in the first over, taking the score to 4-247, and the crowd went berserk. Sadly, the excitement was short-lived, as another defensive prod escorted the ball to Brearley at first slip.
We sat in depressed amazement as the next five wickets fell for 11. Blind optimism was realised again.
We thought the day was done.
Enter Boycott.
The series also saw the introduction of ex-Northcote and now South Australian tearaway fast bowler Rodney Hogg to Test cricket.
Hogg already had 17 test wickets in two outings, but even that reason for optimism was lost on us. Despite our sombre mood, the modest MCG crowd of 48,000 was making some noise as the adopted Croweater started his assault on Boycott, the doyen of English cricket.
With only a single run to his name, Hogg squeezed one between bat and pad, and the noise was extraordinary.
I had been in attendance at three full houses at the "G" for VFL grand finals, but the noise was nothing like I had previously experienced. Hogg doubled up with a positive LBW appeal against Brearley, and England went to lunch at 2–3.
My faith in the game, and my team was restored.
Boycott G.O.R.N.
The English limped to stumps at 8-107. We sat through six hours of cricket that yielded 14-122 and were on the edge of our seats all day. Rolled gold Ashes Test cricket.
Although not yet invented, Hogg completed a "Michelle" (five wickets) the following morning, his fourth in five innings on the biggest stage. Cometh the hour, cometh the man.
The Aussies carried on, completing an unlikely victory that put life back into the traditional standings of the game. The true opinions of World Series Cricket were still whispered behind hand-covered mouths by many.
This mob wore the Baggy Green, and there is nothing quite like the Ashes.
Let me know “Your Ashes” story? Just send me an email speakingnick@gmail.com
As always, thank you for being here.
