Ashes flashback - Edgbaston, 1997 and Steve Waugh the program seller

In the lead up to the 4th Test in this year's Ashes series, we thought it might be interesting if we relived watching an Ashes Test on opposition soil. I thought I would share a story I have told once or twice over the years: the day Steve Waugh swore at me.

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In early 1997, I decided that I would try and watch a Test in England as part of that year's Ashes. Now unfortunately, I was in the middle of my first year of full time work and was fairly social at that stage so I wasn't putting an enormous amount of money away for my trip. I think I actually started saving with only a few months to go so whilst I had enough money for the airfare and the tickets, I didn't have a great deal else. I made the decision that it was better to go and be hungry than not, so for the entire 4 weeks I ate a maximum of two meals a day, and often only one. That, combined with all the walking I did, meant I lost something close to 10kg in the time I was away. When I got back, a friend at work told me that I looked like the singer of Talking Heads, David Byrne, who often used to wear massively oversized suits. Being a little bit of a fan, especially of Little Creatures, I took it as a compliment but I think he may have meant it a little differently.

Anyway, all that was in the future as I first needed to buy the tickets. In the mid 90s, this was much more difficult than it might be today. From memory, I rang the Sydney Cricket Ground, of which I had just become a member, and asked how I could do it. They gave me a UK phone number which I called and the person I spoke to gave me the dates of each Test and the phone number of each Test venue. I picked the 1st Test at Edgbaston in simply because it fitted in best with my schedule. I then called the phone number of Edgbaston and the lady there faxed me a list of ticket prices for each different part of the ground. I remember faxing her back asking her to mark where the sun rose and set so that I can factor that into my seat picking. Unbelievably, in retrospect, she actually did this and after several more faxes back and forth, I had tickets for each day (I think maybe I could only buy tickets to the first 4 days just in case it didn't last the distance). I was ready; no money to eat but ready.

Just before I left, something happened which changed the course of my life and some say, changed the course of cricket history itself. A work colleague, Matty "The Bear" Ford, joked that I should try and get Steve Waugh to give me an autograph which included his middle name of "Rodney".

As a quick aside, Matt was the only man I ever saw bat through the innings at work. One evening, he went to the pub straight after work, drank all night and, with no sleep, came back into work the next morning at 8:30am, straight from the pub wearing the same clothes and worked all the way through the next day. Not many Test openers could bat through an innings as tough as this one. By about 4pm on the second day, Matt was stating that he was in the middle of "the worst day of his life" but he got through it and was no doubt much the better for it.

Anyway, as I am sure everyone knows, Steve Waugh's middle name was "Roger" and not "Rodney" but no matter how much I argued, Matt would not agree. To show him how right I was, I agreed to find Steve, get his autograph and have him include "Roger" in it. Matt agreed also and we wagered a case of beer on the outcome. Despite not having any idea how I would ever meet Steve, I felt the bet was mine and hastened to the airport to catch my flight. I was excited. Despite being in my early twenties, I still had a Steve Waugh poster on my wall and he was a firm hero of mine. The fateful die was cast.

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I arrived in London, caught a train to Birmingham and spent 2 or 3 hours wondering around trying to find a youth hostel. Finally, I happened upon what looked like a block of flats with a "For Rent" sign, in a very friendly area of town where people kept greeting me on the street with a smile and a "How are you?". They all kept asking me whether I was looking for something. My explanation of "somewhere to stay" seemed to cause confusion. I booked myself a bedsit for 8 days (it had a basin and a shower but no windows and the toilet was downstairs in the hall). I was very happy to have found somewhere so good and cheap. When I eventually left, the taxi driver told me that I was actually staying in a notorious red light area and all the people enquiring as to my well being on the street were actually pimps and prostitutes touting for business. The room I was staying in could apparently be rented for much shorter stays than my 8 days.

I arrived with 2 full days to fill before the Test started. So the very next day I made my way down to the ground to try and take in some of the team's training. Now, this wasn't as easy as it sounds because being absolutely determined to stick to my budget, I wouldn't pay for the bus so had a walk for a bit over an hour each way. One day I decided to head into Birmingham on the way home from the ground and made the entire walk-a-thon a 3 hour round trip. Again, when I left I actually stopped a bus and ask how much it was. It turned out it was something like 40 pence. Sometimes a small investment may reap large returns !

Edgbaston turned out to be both a wonderful Test match and the end of an innocence

When I finally reached the ground, I was surprised at how easily I walked into the members area and straight up to the nets where the Australian team was practising. I remember feeling that the ground was very small; much smaller than the SCG or MCG but it was extremely exciting none the less. I was about to watch an Ashes Test in England, the fulfilment of a lifetime dream. What shocked me though was the behaviour of the team I had come to support.

First I found Mark Waugh bowling in the nets to Brendon Julian. Now, these days Mark and Brendon commentate the cricket on Foxtel and appear good buddies but on this day they were anything but. Mark followed up each one of his gentle offspinners with lines like

"You're f*cking sh*t"

and

"You can't hit sh*t"

In the end, Brendon had to gesture at the 30 or so ten years olds that were standing behind the nets open mouthed and ask Mark to tone down the language a bit.

In another net, Michael Slater was facing some local net bowlers. One quick bowler, who looked like a heavy weight boxer, bowled one too many bouncers and Slater advanced on him and, in full batting gear, trying to fight him. Someone saw sense because Slater was escorted back to the batting crease where he batted on, albeit muttering darkly to himself for the rest of the session.

I then went and sat in the member's stand for a while and watched Ian Healy signing autographs. Well, he might have been signing anything actually because Ian never even looked at what he was writing on, let alone the people asking for his autograph. He stood facing some bloke he was talking to and bits of paper and pens were shoved over his left shoulder. He signed then and handed them back over his shoulder without ever turning around. He finished and about 12 seconds later an English father come over with his son and asked Ian for an autograph. Ian launched into him, saying

"I can't believe this. You have watched me sign loads of autographs and now when I am finished, you come over and want one ? Well, you can't have one. What I suggest you do is go out behind the pavilion and when we leave for the day, if I see you, I might give you an autograph then. Now go"

Heals then stormed off into the change rooms. Nice.

Next, Mark Waugh appeared again after a bit of pre-game soccer on the oval. He threw his arms up in the air and loudly declared,

"I'm having an autograph signing free day today"

Undeterred, two Australian guys stood in front of him in the aisle and asked for an autograph. Hardly missing a beat, Mark again yelled out

"I'm having an autograph signing free day today"

He then barged through these two fans with his shoulder and disappeared into the dressing rooms. My temperature had been rising through all of this. All I could think of was how hungry I was, how I had no money in the bank any more because I wanted to see these guys play cricket in England and how incredibly awful they were. But then my spirits soared: I was Steven Roger Waugh walking back form the oval and beginning to walk up the steps in my direction. My hero was on his way. Now was my chance.

I stood in the aisle in front of him, a bit side on to repel any shoulder charges, after watching his brother's work and waited. A second later he was with me and my dream was realised.

"Hi Steve", I began, "could I have your autograph please?"

Steve couldn't be bothered making eye contact with me and gave me a look as though I was a bit of hair he found in his soup.

"Urgahugamurmur" Steve said

"Um, pardon me Steve?" I replied, smiling.

"Wyzzmsrtmfs pen" said Steve, slightly crankier than before, although I am not sure to this day why exactly.

"Pardon Steve" I said, a bit cranky myself now.

"Pen, gotta f*ckin pen?" drawled the iconic one.

"Oh, a pen. Sorry about that, my mistake. Of course, a pen. Here you go" and I handed him a four colour pen, one of the ones where you need to select which colour you need at the top by pushing either blue, black, red or green.

The Australian cricket team must live a very sheltered life because Steve didn't think it was part of the implied contract we now had between us to actually click the pen into life, so he started writing with only the plastic shell and no biro. He did this for a second or two and then said:

"Wisamyhtssrata pen!" and, for the first time looked at me.

I was a bit dumbfounded at this point, so I just stared into the Australian cricket legend's eyes for what seemed like, well, long enough for steam to start coming out of his ears. Finally a I figured out his problem.

"Aha, sorry about that, my mistake again. You forgot to click one of the colours on. Let me do it for you" and I reached out, took the pen out of his hand, clicked on a colour and handed it back to him.

He grunted and started writing .... with the green. Oh my goodness, I had selected green. No one selects green. It never works. I sensed problems.

Steve started writing in the pad and quickly noticed that no ink was coming out. This made Steve angry. Steve big angry. Angry enough to rub the pen so hard into the paper, in an attempt to get it to write, that he tore a hole through the page and several pages after it.

"Roostafurgen pen" he shouted, holding it up to me.

Oh goodness, that green. I snatched it out of his hand, selected red instead and wrote on the page until it worked. I handed it back to the future Australian cricket captain and said:

"There you go, all fixed".

By now, Steve just wanted to get out of there. He quickly signed his autograph, shoved the pen and pad into my stomach and, without any eye contact, started trying to walk past me. The combination of anger and a strong desire to win my case of beer gave me courage and I stood my ground and said:

"Um, just a minute please. I would like you to do another one"

I am not sure many people had challenged Steve in the previous 15 years or so and he was so surprised he stopped in his tracks

"and this time .... I want you to include your middle name", I added.

Now, this got me some eye contact. OK, eye contact through a Steve Waugh frown and a haze of disgust, but a bit of eye contact none the less.

"Well you see", I explained, "the thing is I have this bet with Matty the Bear that your middle name is Roger. Now I know it's Roger, and everyone knows its Roger, but Matt thinks it is Rodney and if I get your autograph with your middle name, I win a case of beer"

Steve didn't take long to reply. He had probably been working his reply up since his issues with the green pen. He whispered:

"If you want to know what my middle name is, go buy a program mate"

Then he looked me dead in the eyes, the man Australian has just about cannonised, and finished with

"Go buy a f*cking program"

And with that, he took a leaf out of his twin's playbook and he barged through me, pushing me aside and almost ran up into the dressing room. I had my autograph but a broken heart to go with it. My idol was a bounder.

Steve Waugh strongly advised me to purchase a program before the 1st Test of the 1997 campaign

I spent the rest of the day in a bit of a haze. My hero had sworn at me, refused to make eye contact with me and then knocked me aside. I just couldn't stop thinking about how I had spent all that money to come and watch the guys play and then found them to be thoroughly disgraceful. I felt silly. Later, when I returned home, I threw my Steve Waugh poster in the bin and didn't watch much cricket for a year or so. To this day, I have never forgotten the incident. Call me a cricket tragic but it was the end of my innocence. Never meet your heros, they disappoint you. Just because someone is good at sport, it doesn't make them a good bloke. Often in fact, it almost guarantees the opposite.

The next day, I went to the England training session and they were awfully polite; a massive contrast. The next day the Test commenced. I sat in a different part of the ground each day and silently, secretly, booed Steve Waugh.

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The 1st Test in 1997 itself was excellent. Although we lost, it had so much: a total Australian collapse on day one, Tubby Taylor's comeback hundred and a Greg Blewett century, some English hundreds, an English grandfather who kept elbowing me in the ribs as we were tumbling to defeat on the final afternoon and, of course, meeting the excellent Steve Parkin and, if memory serves, three of his very hospitable friends who escorted me to the pub after Day 3 and allowed me to talk much cricket related rubbish with them for an extended period of time.

Cricket brings people together like almost no other sport and Steve and his friends were a great example of this. The only thing we did was sit next to each other and swap the occasional comment throughout the day. That was enough to go to the pub together and, in turn, that was enough to stay in contact with Steve. Cricket supporters almost never feel the need to fight or move much further along than good natured baiting. England / Australia clashes allow old friends to get reacquainted and new friends to meet. Often, these friendships last a very long time. I am happy to say that Steve, almost 14 years later, posts the odd comment on this blog and it all makes me very happy indeed.

Following on in that vein, the very first words my fellow blogger Dave said to me upon being introduced at work in Wakefield, Yorkshire during October 1998 and hearing my accent were:

"You don't follow cricket do you Stewart?"

The rest, as they say, is history. Many years of great friendship has followed and I have our mutual interest in cricket to thank for getting it all started. Despite being on the other side of the world and seeing each other seldom, Dave is one of my truly strongest friends. We can support our own countries yet still celebrate the other's success. I am absolutely convinced that this builds empathy and ultimately makes us better people, as well as further strengthens the bonds of friendship. You never realise how much of a friend you have until you are despondent about the day's play for your country and your mate sends you a text to pep you up, despite them rejoicing quietly at the same time.

So, Steven Waugh, despite your request for me to buy a program devastating me and causing a year long hissy fit on my part, the game you did so much for has in actuality done so much for me also. Therefore, I salute you, and your lack of eye contact and ability to click a pen colour on. So much so in fact, that when I watched you score your last ball of the day hundred against England in January 2003 at the SCG with Dave, and his lovely wife Lou, that I cheered like a 15 year old kid. All was forgiven. The benefits of the international cricket fellowship far, far, far outweighed the negatives.

For this, I thank you.

But gee wizz man, you could have added your middle name.

No middle name, but an autograph none the less. Note tear in page at top right