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What
a lack of imagination shown by
those people entrusted to pick the century's top Australian XI.
And how boring would the game be? Lillee
and Miller would knock the opposition over by tea on day one,
Bradman and Ponsford would bat for days two, three and four, and
Warne and Tiger would clean the others out in a couple of sessions.
Deadly dull. And nobody would want to play against us.
What
we needed was a team of wonderful players without whom there'd
be nothing to discuss or reminisce over during the rain-delayed
morning session. Like
the legends XI, each wore the baggy green and, in his own way,
contributed something unique and precious to the great game. No
question about the openers. The Victorians Ken
Eastwood (1970-71) and Wayne
Phillips (1991-92) must get the nod over Bruce Francis
and Wally Edwards. Both Vic boys had the unenviable task of being
brought in to replace famous players when the selectors had decided
to end their careers. In effect, the selectors also managed to
end the careers of the replacements.
Though two
years older than Bill Lawry, who was also his State captain, Eastwood
was called up for the seventh Test against England in Sydney.
He scored 5 and 0 and didn't play first-class cricket after that
season. Phillips
had to contend with a hostile WACA crowd, whose local hero Geoff
Marsh had just been dumped after scoring only 35 from his last
seven innings. That he had top-scored with a fine 86 before that
poor run wasn't enough to save Marsh from the restless eastern
States scribes who called for his head. How
he must have wished for a little Mark Waugh-type latitude. Phillips
scored 14 and 8 in his only Test.
No 3, as we
all know, is the key spot in the line-up.You need a batsman who
is not only rock-solid but can be aggressive and dashing, and
therefore I have no hesitation in nominating John
Dyson. In
his 58 memorable innings, Dyson brought to the crease the demeanour
of the small-town solicitor asked to defend OJ Simpson. He averaged
26.64. Like all great batsmen, Dyson was unobtrusive. In fact,
nobody I spoke to could recall any shots he played, though all
remembered his magnificent outfield catch.
No 4 must
be Victorian Roy Park. In
his only Test innings (against England in 1921), he made a first-ball
duck. Yet another Victorian backs up in the No 5 slot. Tom
Groube (1880) must have had enormous potential or some
explicit photographs of the selectors. He was selected as a batsman
in one Test (against England at The Oval), making 11 and 0. His
first-class average was 8.52.
The No 6 slot
must go to Dirk Wellham. Wellham
is one of only two batsmen in the world to have scored a century
on debut in both first-class and Test matches. Yet, on each occasion,
he was dropped for the following game (by NSW and Australia respectively).
Talk about a flaming comet! Despite starting with a ton, he finished
with a Test average of 23.36. Wellham is also remembered for a
science experiment in which, on his way back to the pavilion,
he tried to determine whether the wood in the gate was more durable
than his blade.
Unfortunately,
as in many such scientific challenges, there is danger, and on
this occasion the gatekeeper was accidentally injured. Queenslander
Tom Veivers has his name written
all over the No 7 spot. As an off-spinner, Veivers was a master
of deception. The batsman could never be sure if the ball would
go straight on or ... straight on. In 21 Tests, Veivers never
took five wickets in an innings, his bowling strike rate was 127
and his bowling average was 41.66. His 33 victims is the fewest
of any Test bowler who has played a minimum 20 Tests and sent
down 4,000 balls. His decent batting average of just more than
30 might be needed, given the wealth of Victorians up the order.
And speaking
of Victorians, how could you not make Ray
Bright captain? His batting was authoritative. In 25
matches, his highest score was 33 and his average 14.35. Not because
he couldn't bat, but because the self-effacing Ray didn't want
to show up his teammates. As much as his bowling was astonishing
(strike rate 104.5, average over 40), I opt for Ray as keeper.
A brilliant tactician and so nimble he would make Adam Gilchrist
look like a clydesdale, Brighty is the perfect man to lead this
team from behind the stumps.
The leggie
position is a terrific tussle. Candidates include Reg Sellers
(one Test, no wickets and a duck) and the immortal John Watkins.
Picked against Pakistan after just five first-class games, in
which he had taken only 11 wickets at 37, Watkins had one thing
going for him he played for NSW, which is always handy when you
are a borderline Test selection. I have to overlook both, however,
and go for the left-arm googly Croweater David
Sincock. Three Tests and eight wickets at 51.25 shows
how Sinners managed to confound the selectors even more than the
batsmen. The pace attack picks itself. Big leftie Tony
Dell would have been Australia's Joel Garner if only
our selectors hadn't felt sorry for the opposition, who, as it
was, had to face Lillee, Thommo and Tangles. And hang it, I'm
going for an all-leftie attack.
Mike Whitney
came within an ace of snaring the last spot, but his batting was
just too good. So the last spot goes to Sam
''The Cannon'' Gannon from Western Australia. Gannon
took seven wickets on debut against India (1976-77), but as he
didn't play for NSW, he was dropped when he failed to take a wicket
two Tests later. For 12th man, I had to go with history and gave
John McLaren the nod. In his
only Test (1911-12) he was 0 not out in both innings and took
1-70. He died of diabetes at 34. Somehow that seems to sum up
what cricket is about for those who are blessed enough to be a
mile better than most, and cursed enough to be an inch short of
the best.
Article
copyright © Dave Warner, 2000
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