An All-Australian XI

GH on a good news story

During the Sydney Test, Pete and I attended the annual rite of a dinner hosted by our mutual friend Darshak Mehta, where the guest of honour is always a cricket person of importance. This year it was the double act of Cricket Australia chairman Mike Baird and CEO-elect Todd Greenberg, and when Pete threw the floor open to questions the first was a familiar one.

When, asked the interlocutor, was the Australian cricket going to reflect the full diversity of the Australian community? Sigh. How many times have I heard this over the years? The unyielding predominance of Mitches and Shanes has always been good for a think piece or ten in the soi-disant progressive media. And it always puts cricket on the defensive, as it did Baird now: the chairman still thinks like the politician he was, and cannot imagine anything occurring without the impetus of an official programme. As he did in this instance: CA had targeted Australians of South Asian background as a growth area blah blah blah.

Personally, I’ve never set much store on what the Australian team ‘looks like’, because as a grass roots player for half a century I sense that diversity has happened, without any formal mandate or woke fever dream: without growing South Asian participation over the last quarter century, it’s fair to say that vernacular cricket in the big cities would have perished some time ago. In clubland there’s plenty of ethnic and cultural diversity; likewise diversity of age, background, education, income and, yes, ability. You can be good, you can be bad, you can be just mediocre like me, because, as I think EV Lucas once said, no game preserves such an honoured corner for the outright duffer. Everyone pays the same and everyone’s vote at the annual meeting counts the same; we share a love of the game, are bound by the same intangible ties to our club, and that goes a long way.

But, sure, I get the idea of ‘you can’t be what you can’t see’, even if I think it sounds more convincing than it actually is for rhyming. And here’s where Baird’s response, seated as he was beside Jewish Todd Greenberg, disappointed me. For surely this is the summer where the Australian cricket team headed off those think piece writers at the pass. This Australian cricket team looks more like Australia than ever. But, amid all the on-field excitement, nobody seems to have noticed.

Consider: opening the batting we have Usman Khawaja, born five miles from Pindi Stadium, and Sam Konstas, cricket’s Achilles. Marnus Labuschagne came from South Africa, Steve Smith has an English mother, while Mitchell Starc has Slovene heritage on his father’s side. The grandfather of man of the match Scott Boland, of course, was indigenous, a member of the Gulidjan from Colac. And while Pat Cummins might look like an Aussie epitome, for long phases of history his captaincy aspirations would have confounded: not only was he a bowler but a Catholic too.

Drill down further and I dare say you’ll find more: Travis Head is even reportedly India’s father. It’s not a bad blend in other respects either: town and country, imbibers and non-imbibers, long and short, hairy and smooth. For some, that won’t be enough; for some, it will never be enough. Still, survey the summer’s terraces and the practice sessions too: Indian fans aplenty, everyone getting on fine, and no demands for a Tebbit Test. It’s no reason to stop striving, of course. But perhaps we could, from time to time, show a little more faith in cricket’s natural attractiveness and inclusivity. Come on, chairman. Cheer up a bit.