My top ten SCG Test moments

These are my favourite memories from Test matches played at the Sydney Cricket Ground.

Boycott gone first ball
It’s the new year Test in 1979 and I’m 11 years old. I’m enjoying one of my first visits to the SCG with a family friend.

Sitting under the old green-roofed Bob Stand, I’m enraptured by the sight of Allan Border – dwarfed by the steepling Sheridan and Noble Stands but standing in harmony with the Ladies and the Members – batting with the tail.

The Australian innings ends, with Border not out on 60 in just his second Test. Soon Geoff Boycott and Mike Brearley – twin villains, to be sure – are emerging from the shadows, Boycott wearing his three lions cap and Brearley protected by an early prototype helmet.

Rodney Hogg bustles into the wicket, his elbows swinging rhythmically across his body and flings down a beguiling off-cutter. Boycott plays outside the line and, before he can adjust, the ball smacks into his front pad. The umpire’s finger rises slowly but terminally.

Suddenly the Sheridan Stand is alive, like a malevolent beast advancing towards the playing arena. Thousands of arms fling towards the furious heavens. The atmosphere is heavy with euphoric delight. And Boycott slinks from the field.

Geoff Boycott (S&G/PA Images via Getty Images)

I feel a rapture I have never before known.

Hughes’ triple sixes
It’s the new year Test of 1983 and I’m sitting in the top deck of the old Noble Stand with my grandfather. This is the first time I’ve attended all five days of a Test.

I’m loving the time spent with my dear grandpa as much as I’m loving the cricket unfolding far below on the sun-emblazoned ground.

But, as though this halcyon image is insufficient, my boyhood hero Kim Hughes is on his way to a majestic second-innings 137, which will ensure a draw (at least) and secure the Ashes for Australia; all the sweeter for the bitter memories from those long, lonely nights in ’81.

Geoff Miller prances in to bowl on light feet, his arms held eye. For the third time in his innings, Hughes crouches slightly – like a stalking leopard – and skips down the pitch before unleashing his untamed bat.

The ball soars, upon wing, in sublime sub-orbital parabolic flight before plunging to earth and landing in the Sheridan concourse.

Even from my vantage point on the far side of the ground, I see the ball land on the concrete path and bounce against the Sheridan Stand brickwork.

(Photo by Murrell/Allsport/Getty Images)

Deano shakes Sachin’s hand
Now it’s 1991 and I’m sitting on the top deck of the Brewongle Stand with my uni mates.

Out in the middle, an 18-year-old Sachin Tendulkar is batting. As he plays cover drives, straight drives and square cuts crispier than his youthful face, my mates – who happen to be Indian – are becoming increasingly excited.

When Tendulkar’s delightful innings ends on 148 not out – from just 213 balls – Dean Jones changes his course and trots after the young master to shake his hand and pat his back.

Big Merv Hughes soon follows his fellow Victorian’s example and does the same. Young Sachin looks a little bashful as he licks the saliva from his lips and walks, with self-assured swagger, from the field.

Warnie’s bunny
It’s 1994 and I’m enjoying my first day at the SCG as a member. I’m sitting in the Noble Stand, looking down the wicket, as I had done, years before, with my grandfather.

He’s been deceased, by now, for almost a decade and I’m missing him, more than ever, as I watch the game from the vantage point he coveted.

Daryll Cullinan – much heralded before his arrival in Australia – is facing Shane Warne. A short delivery on leg stump and Cullinan pulls the ball to the midwicket boundary. A short delivery on off stump and Cullinan steps back and square drives the ball to the deep point boundary.

An arrogant spring betrays Daryll’s step and a smirk infiltrates his face.

Warne strolls in to bowl again. There’s something different about his wrist position. The ball follows a shallow trajectory, lands on off stump and scuttles on. Cullinan delays moving into position as his brain tries to compute what his eyes are seeing.

(Photo by Daniel Pockett/Getty Images)

Belatedly, he plays a speculative defensive shot – as his feet skip uncertainly – but there’s a gulf between bat and pad. And the ball is already flipping through his defences anyway and crashing into his off stump.

Warnie gives Cullinan a ferocious send-off, but Daryll’s already almost out of earshot, heading quickly back to the seclusion of the dressing room.

Steve Waugh’s farewell
It’s the final day of a sun-seared, exhausting Test match against India in 2004. I’m sitting beneath the Members Stand, in front of the visiting dressing room, with my wife, my Indian mate and his family.

With a bit of acceleration, the Australians might chase down an unlikely fourth-innings target of 443. But with a clutter of wickets, an Indian victory still threatens. The draw remains the most likely result.

There’s a large fifth-day crowd in attendance because Steve Waugh, the people’s captain, has announced his retirement.

On 80 runs, with a final Test century in the frame, Waugh plays his trademark slog sweep – albeit a somewhat uncultured version – and is caught by Sachin Tendulkar in the deep.

At the end of the drawn game, Waugh’s teammates hoist him onto their shoulders for a lap of honour. The adoring crowd on the Hill wave red hankies in celebration.

Glancing over my shoulder, I see Sourav Ganguly standing still, outside the Indian dressing room, with arms folded and a yearning – almost envious – look in his lonesome eyes.

Ponting’s double
January 2006 and Australia are chasing 287 runs in the fourth innings to triumph over the South Africans. I’m watching the drama from the top deck of the Members Stand.

Ricky Ponting is at the wicket. It’s his 100th Test and he’s already scored a sublime 120 in the first innings. Now he’s progressing with steady assuredness towards the fifth-day target.

He’s a batter at the height of his immense powers. Every foot movement, every short selection and every crisp stroke are made with confidence and certainty.

(James Knowler/Getty Images)

Johan Botha skips to the wicket and delivers the ball with a whirl of arms and legs. Ponting strides forward, plants his front foot, stretches forward so that his head is over the ball and his left knee is almost on the ground and drives the ball handsomely to the cover boundary.

Not out on 143, the game is won and Ponting is the first batter to score twin tons in his 100th Test. He raises both arms towards the sky in triumph, a joyful grin emblazoned across his impish face.

As I cheer, I reflect that Ponting’s is probably the best innings I have ever seen live at the SCG.

Pup’s miracle
Now it’s January 2008 and I’m in the Members Stand, again, praying for an Australian win late on the fifth day against India.

It’s been a fractious Test match and an irritable final day. There’s venom in the conflict.

But Australia is pressing for victory as the shadows sweep the ground.

It’s the second last over of the Test and Ponting has tossed the ball to Michael Clarke. He’s already taken two wickets in the over, one caught in the slips and one leg before.

Ishant Sharma has delayed the thrilling conclusion by somehow bringing out two right-handed batting gloves. But’s he’s got the correct gloves now and has successfully defended two balls.

Clarke trots in and rolls his left arm over with barely sufficient windmill velocity to propel the ball down the wicket. But the ball pitches and spits and catches the outside edge of Sharma’s bat and traces a gentle arc to Michael Hussey’s waiting hands at first slip.

Clarke lopes away to his left, with his left arm raised, before clapping his lands and leaping into a squat to await his teammates’ celebration.

Meanwhile, a powerless Anil Kumble waits forlornly for a handshake, which never comes, and ambles from the field of battle.

(Photo by Daniel Pockett – CA/Cricket Australia via Getty Images )

Graeme Smith’s courage
A year passes and it’s another fifth-day SCG climax in January 2009.

Australia is heading for victory, but the South African batters are defiant.

Opposing captain Graeme Smith has already retired hurt after Mitchell Johnson broke his left hand. The question around the ground is whether he will bat to save the game, if required.

On my way back from the men’s room, at the rear of the Members Stand, I glance into the visiting dressing room. I report, excitedly, to my friends that Smith is padded up and ready to enter the battle.

Dale Steyn falls, leg before wicket, to Andrew McDonald. An expectant crowd turns its excited eyes to the South African dressing room. And they roar with admiration when Smith emerges from the shadows and enters the sunlight.

Holding his bat handle lightly with his bottom hand – and wincing in pain whenever leather meets willow – Smith survives for almost half an hour. The crowd’s admiration is beginning to turn into frustration.

With just two overs to go, Mitchell Johnson sweeps in from the Members’ end and delivers a well-pitched in-swinger. The ball evades Smith’s searching bat and knocks back his off stump.

Though defeated, the SCG crowd rises to applaud a brave cricketing warrior from the ground.

Pup’s triple
It’s January 2012 and Australia are taking on the Indians once more.

Ishant Sharma runs in and his delivery zeros in on Michael Clarke’s stumps. But Clarke has already accumulated 299 runs and has no difficulty clipping the ball, off his pads, to the midwicket boundary.

Clarke trots to the bowler’s end, drops his unsponsored bat on the ground, and punches the air with both hands in magnificent conquest.

(Photo by Mark Nolan/Getty Images)

I’m sitting in the Members Stand and I rejoice in finally seeing a batter make triple figures; something I have yearned for since reading about Bradman’s exploits as a kid.

The Marsh brothers celebrate
Now it’s January 2018 – as the storm clouds of Australian cricket gather – and the Marsh brothers are batting in the SCG sunshine against the Poms.

Shaun Marsh has already collected his ton and brother Mitchell is on 99. Tom Curran scampers in from the Members end and sends it down outside Marsh’s off stump.

Mitchell plays the shortish ball from his front foot and penetrates the off-side field. Sensing there’s two in it, he turns, in a tight circle, at the bowler’s end and heads back to the keeper’s end.

The only thing preventing Mitchell from completing the second run is his brother Shaun, who diverts from his path to embrace Mitchell mid-pitch in brotherly joy.

In the Australian dressing room, captain Steve Smith sees the potential calamity unfolding and, with blood pressure spiking, starts gesticulating like a wild man.

Meanwhile, cool Usman Khawaja places his hand over his face and dissolves into fits of laughter.