Sydney merged into Perth then Melbourne as the excess of no-frills
domestic flights, intense heat and all-day coaching blurred into a singular,
exhausting, incredible event.
It was during the final afternoon’s coaching at Trinity
Grammar School in East Melbourne when I paused momentarily to take in the scale
of the previous six weeks’ happenings.
Submersed in the crux of the camps, shepherding the young
troops between greats, I had barely realised the cold, hard facts. 17 Test
players had been present totalling 56 hundreds and 1042 wickets between them
across 581 Tests (plus the not-so-minor attendance of twelve other First Class
players).
Sydney was the precursor, a hard graft of sweltering
proportions. Doug Walters’ wise old words were intertwined between Danny
Morrison’s amusing Kiwi self deprecation and the T20 glitz of Sydney Sixers
players Stuart Clark and Moises Henriques in pink apparel. From here, via a few
bevvys with Beige Kiwi Blair and barefoot bowls with Jez, Heidi and the family,
Perth called from afar.
Perthites seem, reasonably enough, not to have a care in the
world. The city is the most isolated on Earth, three full time zones from the
country’s bustling south east coast and with a newfound wealth due to its
lucrative mining reserves.
After strolling through Fremantle’s quaint port harbour,
convict prison and brewery (I leave you to guess where we spent the longest),
then up to Perth’s lofty King’s Park, it was time to head to the
much-anticipated coaching camp.
Figure-headed by Justin Langer, the former Test great turned
Australian assistant coach is a large factor in the huge number of kids in
attendance from all over Western Australia [and even lads in my group from as
far away as Darwin (4000km) and Christmas Island (4 hour flight)]. In all, 450
youngsters across two sites lived and breathed cricket for the three days in
typically sweltering conditions.
It was on the second night that Doug Walters threw on his
best slacks and summoned us all to the pub. Another difference in Perth is that
they serve pints, as opposed to the two-thirds-of-a-pint ‘Schooners’ across
Queensland and beyond. That I had to pay $10 for the pint was a little
London-esque, but this annoyance soon abated as we found a table in the posh,
opened-planned bar in full view of the TV. Half a pint in, transfixed to a
nervy finish in the T20 game on the box, a hiatus in the game allowed me to
take in my surroundings and more importantly the revered company I was in. To
my left, Danny Morrison, Rodney Hogg and two fellow Sunny Coast boys along for
the ride; to my right, Spud Murphy, Doug Walters and Dennis Lillee. I took
another sip of beer and returned to the game, fully dumbstruck with awe.
With the final day of coaching a foggy, reflective haze in
39-degree heat, Perth came and went, exhausted bodies strewn across the hard
airport floor as we all prepared for post-midnight flights.
Melbourne was the finale, a conclusion of sure-to-be
nostalgic memories. The presence of Test players Ray Bright, Brad Hodge, James
Pattinson and even a brash, irksome Dean Jones were just a bonus. It was the
vibe of the camp that offered real value; the banter between coaches, the
enthusiasm of the kids, the relaxing beer after a long day outdoors.
After a farewell beer with the Australian Sports Camps family, my Melbourne leg finished with classic Australia Day celebrations, all-day BBQ and beer on Torquay beach with Symo and Carly. Unbeatable.
DKL and PTJ (click here for pic): http://pic.twitter.com/Cb5guHbA
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