Mr Cricket by Michael Hussey Read Free Book Online Page A

imperative for us to be able to kick with both feet. We’re not just talking about simple punts. It meant having the full arsenal of tricks: drop kicks, drop punts, torpedoes and running drop punts – all with both feet. Remember, if it was worth doing, it was worth doing as well as possible. So, Dad devised a system to teach us this ability. We would start at about 10 metres and execute each type of kick for a goal off each foot before we could go up to the next distance, which was 15 metres. Then we’d master that distance and move on to the next. The last distance I remember being tested from was about 35 metres, which I thought was pretty good for a couple of pre-teen kids. We enjoyed it, too, because we could notice ourselves gaining skills and it was another chance for us to compete against each other.
    I ended up playing two seasons of competitive footy, between the ages of 11 and 12. But, as much as I enjoyed it, it was never going to do much for my personal wellbeing. Being such a small kid, the best position they could find for me was rover. Basically, that meant the ruckman would tap it down to me – and I’d get immediately barrelled to the ground. The next time there was a tap, I’d get the ball and get smashed again. I loved football, appreciated the skills involved and enjoyed playing in a team environment, even on days when it was cold and rainy, but I wasn’t so sure I enjoyed getting smashed 20 times a game and didn’t see too much of a future in the sport for me. At one point I actually became quite worried that I was going to get badly hurt.
    Another reason I turned away from football was because of squash. The guy who lived two doors up from us, Mike Wheeler, built and started a squash centre in our local area and Mum was very adamant that we should support him. It was a new business and he was a really good man and Mum thought it our duty to help him out, so Dave and I would ride our bikes up to the centre every day or two and have a hit. On Friday afternoons and Saturday mornings Mike would teach us to play and then we’d have competitive matches. Mike was a brilliant coach and made learning the game exciting and interesting. We enjoyed squash, got right into it and, having good hand–eye co-ordination and fitness, we both did pretty well. But the main thing was that it was fun. It became much more competitive as we got older, though I reckon it was the only sport in which Dave and I didn’t try to kill each other. I was always slightly better than he was, but our games would never end in tears or fights. You’d have to ask Dave why.

    I became pretty good at squash and went through a stage of taking it quite seriously. But I lost heart around the age of 16 because, for all my effort, I couldn’t get past the two best players in the state. And being No. 3 was a curse because the national tournaments involved only the top two players in each age group. They’d pick a third player but he would stay in Perth on standby in case someone got injured.
    I tried to beat the other two but they were just too good and I never got to go on a tour. I was very disappointed about that and, being so competitive, I used to beat myself up every time I lost or played badly. However, all was not lost. Squash at least lifted my fitness and taught me about touch and placement. So when I got more and more involved in cricket, it certainly helped. I was trying to perfect both sports but it soon became apparent that the amount of time I was putting into the two pursuits was unsustainable. Something had to give. I had to choose one over the other and, in the end, it was quite an easy decision to make.
    Once my decision had been made, Dad clicked into gear and started giving us advice on how both David and I could improve as cricketers, physically and mentally. By the time I was playing for Wanneroo, he’d become heavily involved in our team’s training program,