“I grew up revering Ashes cricket,” wrote Greg Chappell in the Sydney Morning Herald before the start of the last series in 2021-22. “My first memory of an Ashes Test was going to the Radio 5AD studios in Adelaide in 1953 to watch our grandfather, Vic Richardson, call the simulated broadcast of the Ashes series.
“A cable (similar to a modern-day text message for the age-challenged reader) would come through at the end of each over and the in-studio commentator would read the cable describing the action and tap a pencil on the desk to simulate the sound of ball hitting bat. A gong (known as Rickety Kate) would indicate the fall of a wicket.”
With live-streaming platforms, ball-by-ball commentary and a host of other offerings, cricket has moved on quite a bit from Kate, but the Ashes remain ineffably special. And as much as the big names turning up – Ian Botham and Shane Warne being prime examples – the modern history of the Ashes is also the story of the unlikely heroes.
Take Terry Alderman as a case study. His record in Australia was modest, with 68 wickets at an average of 29.41. He struggled in the West Indies and had a modest record in New Zealand. But across two Ashes series in 1981 and 1989, he was nearly unplayable – 42 wickets at 21.26 in the first series, and 41 at 17.36 in 1989, when Allan Border’s written-off side smashed England 4-0.
Alderman is hardly the only swing bowler to have thrived in English conditions. County cricket has always thrown up a host of them, and few made as much of an impact as Richard Ellison in 1985. His 17 wickets at a laughable average of 10.88 in two Tests in 1985 helped transform a series that had been evenly poised after Border’s stunning 196 at Lord’s.
One of the batting heroes for England in that series was Tim Robinson. He would finish his Test career with a modest average of 36.38, but in eight Tests against the old enemy, he made two centuries and averaged 49.54.
Robinson was frequently derided for batting like an accountant – he had trained to be one – but that was never an accusation level at one of his Nottinghamshire seniors. Derek Randall, in addition to being a superb fielder and a lively character on the field, was a courageous batsman who made all three of his Ashes hundreds in Australia. At a time when the fearsome Dennis Lillee led the Australian pace pack, Randall’s 174 in the Centenary Test (1977) and another hundred in Perth (1982) are part of Ashes lore.
Another figure of mirth in the 1980s was Auatralia’s Andrew Hilditch, who the tabloids nicknamed the Happy Hooker after he kept taking on the short ball – and getting caught – in that 1985 series. It shouldn’t be forgotten though that Hilditch, who later served as chairman of selectors, started the series with a brilliant 119 at Headingley. Despite diminishing returns, he finished his only Ashes series in England with 424 runs.
But when we talk of characters from that era before professionalism took firm roots, the first name that comes to mind is big Merv Hughes, who these days accompanies tour parties to various venues around the world. Hughes was nearly sent back home from his first Ashes tour in 1989, not for something he did, but for playing broadcast journalist.
After the Australian team had landed at Heathrow Airport, Hughes spoke to a radio station back home. “The big news is that Boonie’s cracked the first 50 of the tour!” he said, with reference to David Boon allegedly consuming 52 cans of beer on the flight over. The team management wasn’t amused by the leak. “I got in more trouble than the protagonist,” Hughes would say later. “I was shitting myself that I’d be sent home.”
It was easy to caricature Hughes, with his immense frame, beer belly and coarse send-offs to batsmen. But he was also a tremendously skilful bowler who took 19 wickets in Australia’s 4-0 triumph in 1989, and 31 at 27.25 four years later, when they won 4-1. That last effort pretty much ended his career. Bowling more than half the series with a sore knee, Hughes epitomised the intensity and dedication of a team that would soon supplant West Indies as the world’s best.
After that unforgettable effort, he could play only two more Tests. By then, however, Australian cricket had another Victorian entertainer in the side. The late Warne finished his career with an incredible 708 wickets at 25.41. But there were few teams he enjoyed tormenting as much as England. In 22 Tests spread across four Ashes series in England, he harvested an incredible 129 wickets at 21.94.
Such was Warne’s appetite for the biggest contest of all that in 2005, when his marriage and family were falling apart, he took 40 wickets at 19.92 while also contributing 249 runs. Starting with the Ball of the Century to Mike Gatting at Old Trafford in 1993, Warne never lost his aura when playing England. Just the sight of him at the top of his run-up was often enough.
A generation earlier, Botham had a similar impact on Australian sides. He scored four of his 14 Test centuries and took 148 of his 383 wickets against Australia, and the 1981 series will forever be remembered as Botham’s Ashes. England’s revival in that series began at Headingley, with an innings defeat so likely that Lillee and Rod Marsh placed bets, enticed by the 500-1 odds against a home win.
When Graham Dilley joined him in the middle with England seven down, Botham asked him if he fancied a marathon rearguard action. Dilley didn’t think he was up for that. “Right,” said Botham. “Let’s give it some humpty then!”
And give it they did. Ahead of this series, with all the talk being of Bazball and how Australia will respond to it, we can only hope that the players will channel the spirit of those legends, and give it some humpty.