opinion
Justin Langer: Career saved in the snick of time

“Did you snick it son?” “Which one?” I answered with a wry smile. “That one off Wasim Akram when you were on 70 odd, I’m sure I could hear it from the boundary line.” “I don’t think so mate, I think it was my clicky bat handle.” The night before the Test match in Hobart in 1999, Dad flew over from Perth to provide me with some moral support. My position in the team seemed to be hanging on the thinnest of threads. This was not unusual, but the media was having a field day with my prospects. Again, this was not unusual. Dad sat glued to his seat and was always a part of my peripheral vision that week in Tasmania. His presence, along with my Mum’s, was always a welcome sight, regardless of where I was playing. Near the end of this game, possibly the best of my career, Dad and I shared a Pat Cash moment together. In 1987, Cash famously climbed into the grandstand after winning Wimbledon. Sharing his triumphant moment with his family was a golden sporting moment for me, better than the game itself. In Hobart, 12 years later, I walked off the ground to be hugged and greeted by my Dad who was standing at the gate near our changing room. We were only five runs off a most unlikely victory and I had scored a century. Dad was very proud. So was I. Over the last few weeks, my memory of this memorable day was prompted by a recent presentation I did to a group of umpires, the issue being written about in the media again, and the Pakistan cricket team being in Australia. “Did you snick it son?” A couple of days before my Dad’s question, I was batting in the first innings; cruising, feeling good as I went past 50. Pakistan’s superstar spinner Saqlain Mushtaq bowled a ball that spun and hit me on the pad. The red kookaburra pill looped to the fieldsman standing a metre from me and Australian umpire Paul ‘Porky’ Parker gave me out caught, even though I missed the ball by a foot. I was devasted. The pressure had been weighing on me and a golden opportunity to release the valve felt like it had been stolen away. Feeling forlorn, I happened to walk into the same lift that Porky Parker was riding in back at the hotel. On seeing me, ‘Parks’, one of the all-round good guys, lowered his eyes and apologised profusely for his error in judgment. Not all officials do this, but I always admired the ones who did. When they make a mistake, as we all do, I found that the best umpires owned up to it. When they did that, they were always easier to give the benefit of the doubt the next time things may go wrong. “No worries, Parks. See you tomorrow.” On 70 odd in the second innings with the game on the line, Wasim Akram — the best fast bowler I ever faced — stormed in and delivered a hurtling outswinger at me. Eyes lighting up, I swung my blade to execute the perfect cover drive. The problem was that that cover drive didn’t hit the middle of the bat as I’d planned and the Pakistanis went up in tandem. They thought they had their man. Parker didn’t agree with them. “Not out’, he said, shaking his head. Pakistan heads dropped. My feet started dancing and Adam Gilchist and I took us close to victory. Pakistan was devastated after losing what seemed an unlosable game and we were celebrating like never before. That night, my Dad’s question went largely unanswered. As it did with a few of my teammates. “A clicky bat handle”, was my common reply, because I didn’t want to give away the fact that I thought the umpire in charge had made a couple of mistakes in the same game. Even today the bat I was using in that game sits on my wall with the words, ‘this is the bat with the clicky bat handle’. Pretty funny I thought, and the truth is, when I tell the story publicly, people find it hilarious. I am often asked about sportsmanship and whether players should ‘walk’ when they are out. Gilchrist famously walked once, and the argument grew wings. With respect to all umpires, and those with a different view, my simple response is that I would expect all sportspeople to respect the umpire’s decision, wrong or right. What I have learned is that you win some, and you lose some, and even though it hurts when it goes against you, you take the good ones when they go your way. When Ben Stokes was given not out in the famous Headingley Test match of 2019, the worst day of my cricket career was triggered. The ball from Nathan Lyon pitched on middle stump, hit Stokes’ pad halfway up middle stump and yet the umpire gave it not out. England still needed two runs to win, and we felt robbed. What didn’t seem fair at the time, reminded me that sometimes you get them, others you don’t. Steve Bucknor, the towering Jamaican umpire, was one of the best I played with. He had the idiosyncrasy of taking his time to make his decision. On appeal, he would tilt his head to his right ear, then to the left, look straight down the pitch, think for another second or two and then make his decision. On a bad day for the batsman, he would slowly lift his arm and point to the sky, on another he would slowly shake his head and say, ‘not out.’ You could always have a laugh with Steve, who was very fair in his assessment of himself and his decisions. In the same game that Mark Taylor scored 334 in Peshawar, Pakistan, Bucknor made a decision that changed my life. In my 10th test match, Shoaib Akthar, the fastest bowler of my generation bowled a ball that rocketed into my pads. It was the first ball of my innings. Bucknor tilted his head to the left, and then to the right. He stood tall, stared me in the eyes and then, as I waited for my fate it felt like I was having my head held under water. It was if I was about to drown. The decision could go either way, and as I waited it felt like an eternity. I was about to die. My Test career was surely over. “Not out”. If Ben Stokes was plum in 2019, and given not out, I was probably a bit lucky on that one. “Not out.” I couldn’t believe it. But I would take it. A hundred runs later — my first Test hundred — and I often think about that moment. Had Bucknor raised his finger that day, my life could have looked so different. Just as it may have if Paul Parker had have made different decisions in both innings in Hobart. Who knows? Life is a funny thing. Umpires — and referees — often get a bad rap. They get abused, booed, have things thrown at them. Some punters make an art of letting the umpires know when they make a bad decision. Some of their advice might be funny at the ground, but I am sure it’s not for the folks in blue, pink or black. I have seen spectators get so angry that the veins in their necks look like they will burst through their skin. This never makes much sense to me, but I do appreciate the emotion and passion that sport evokes. I also appreciate, the important role umpires and referees play in our sports. No matter what you may perceive to be good or bad, they deserve our respect.

opinion
Justin Langer: Career saved in the snick of time

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opinion
Justin Langer: Career saved in the snick of time