Peter Roebuck: The best cricket writer of his generation

 
Spiro Zavos Columnist

By , 13 Nov 2011 Spiro Zavos is a Roar Expert

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Peter Roebuck: The best cricket writer of his generation + enlarge image

Peter Roebuck (AAP)

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Peter Roebuck was a competent and thoughtful cricketer. He was good enough to play for Somerset’s second eleven when he was only 13 and to achieve a first class batting average of 37, scoring 17,558 runs and 33 centuries, and capturing 72 wickets at 49.

At the end of his playing career he became a cricket writer, with the emphasis on the word ‘writer.’

Quite simply, he was the best writer about cricket of his generation.

His articles were invariably gems of essays, full of insight, humour and compassion for the trials and tribulations of the players at all levels of the game.

One of his finest pieces, for instance, was an account of a grade match being played in Brisbane. Written more than a decade ago when the Baggy Green caps had a gallery of iconic players, Roebuck saw in the intensity of the play and the skills of the players, on a dusty ground far from the manicured perfection of a Test field, many reasons why Australia fielded such a formidable national side.

This sympathy and understandings of the pressures on the players (gained from 17 years as a professional player) marked Roebuck’s writings.

His last article for The Sydney Morning Herald was a wrap-up on the sensational Test between South Africa and Australia, with the visitors leading by over 180 runs, then being bowled out for 47 and the home side getting the 236 runs for a victory with the loss of only two wickets.

The heading on the article summed up Roebuck’s sympathatic interpretation of what happened, and what should happen next for the Australian team: ‘No dumps for the sake of it – selectors, coaches and captain must keep their nerve.’

When he heard the news of Roebuck’s death, Jonathan Agnew tweeted: ‘My God. Just heard about Peter Roebuck. Loved working with him. Incisive. Erudite. Funny. Don’t know the full story …’

That last sentence sums up the enigma of Roebuck. He had, and one guesses the full story will probably emerge in due course, an unusual private life.

There was the bizarre assault conviction involving the spanking with a cricket bat for three young cricketers who lived in his home in England while he was coaching them. Roebuck explained to the court that they failed to obey ‘the house’ rules for which they were caned on the buttocks.

This incident was a major problem for Roebuck at the time. At the SMH there was some consideration given to cancelling his contract. But rightly, in my opinion, it was decided to suspend any further punishment in view of the fact that the jail sentence imposed was suspended by the judge.

It is a credit to Roebuck’s stature as a person and a writer that he survived this ordeal and his career, in fact, flourished as he added radio broadcasting to his journalistic reach.

He was fearless as a leader in forcing cricket officials in Australia and the UK, particularly, to accept the benefits for the cricket world for the switch in power from the traditional powers to those on the sub-continent, particularly the growing economic hegemony of Indian cricket.

Roebuck always insisted that there should be a greater understanding of the sensitivities of India, Pakistani and Sri Lanka players and approaches from, say, Australian players and officials. His most controversial articles on this subject were written after Australia’s victory against India at the SCG in 2008.

Roebuck was scathing about the constant and vicious sledging by the Australian players which provoked an Indian reaction to this poor sportsmanship. And although this was not a popular theme for a writer for the SMH, Roebuck stuck to his guns.

It takes great courage, physical and moral, for a journalist to be critical of practices indulged in by the local side.

Roebuck was a writer with strong and sound convictions. He was fearless in expressing them. His attacks on the corruption of the officials in the highest levels of cricket administration were examples of this. I must admit that when I heard of his death my initial reaction was that, perhaps, the terrible forces of evil who have gained power in the cricket, might have got to him, as they probably did to Bob Woolmer, another notable in the cricket world to die in a hotel room in Jamiaca.

Trying to divine the inner sanctums of Roebuck’s soul is a task that should come, if it must, when all the details of what happened in his last hours come to light. Right now, it is enough to pay tribute to the friend one knew.

I remember one day at the SCG chatting with him. He was wearing his trademark outlandish straw hat. He told me about his coaching days at Cranbrook – as usual with Roebuck there was a great story imbedded in the conversation.

The teacher of German at the school, a German who had no understanding or interest in cricket, was forced to coach one of the lower grade teams. He thought about his task and came to the conclusion that it was a folly for his boys to present the full face of the bat to bowlers. The ball, when it was hit, went  in a predictable dispatch from the bat. So the boys were ordered to present the back of the bat to the bowlers. When contact was made the ball squirted off in unexpected directions …

Roebuck always found time for a chat. He was very sociable during play, even though he had to write about what had happened when play ended. At the end of this particular conversion with me, one of a number at the SCG, he sauntered across to chat with Jamie Packer. Roebuck had coached the then young Jamie (who remained a friend) at the request of Kerry Packer. Another story came to Roebuck’s mind while he was talking to me about this experience.

Intriqued about what it was like to face the thunderbolts of the face bowlers, Kerry Packer got a bowling machine brought to the cricket pitch on his property. He padded up, as if he were opening in a Test. The machine was racheted up to the fastest bowling speed and the big fellow found out, to a certain extent, what it was like facing Lillee or Holding.

In life, you have to take people for how they present themselves to you. I found him, like Agnew, an erudite and pleasant companion. I loved his writing, which invariably enhanced the spectacle and drama of the game and often gave vivid insights into the early lives of players. His writings will live on like those of a fellow cricketer writer on the SMH, Neville Cardus.

But, more importantly, Roebuck was always a pleasant and thoughtful companion in the press box. He did not carry grudges, as journalists tend to do. He loved his job. He loved Australia and the Australian attitude to life. He was proud of the fact that he had taken out Australian citizenship.

He was old-fashioned in his courtesy in framing an argument or discussing a point or chatting to an interested member of the public. And old-fashioned, too, in the way he wrote out his brilliant pieces in long-hand and read them through to a copy taker some time after stumps had been drawn.

There is a lovely phrase in cricket,’Well played,’ which is called out by spectators after a player returns to the pavilion after a strong batting performance. It is a matter of great sorrow that we will never read another splendid Roebuck piece. But for all the wonderful pieces written over the years which were a such pleasure and a joy to read, ‘Well played Peter, well played …’

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