Ashes to Ashes, dust-up to dust-up

So England have taken the lead in the Ashes series and Botham and Chappell have fought again. I like it. This second rivalry is exactly 100 years younger than the one between England and Australia. It began in a bar in Melbourne in 1977. The upstart Botham (he hadn’t scored any of his 5,000-plus test runs, nor taken the first of his 383 wickets) didn’t like something Chappell said about English cricket. Botham’s version was that he gave Chappell “three official warnings” and followed these up with a punch that sent the Australian captain sprawling onto a table occupied by Aussie rules footballers. Chappell then fled the scene.

Chappell has said all Botham did was hold a beer glass to his face and threaten to cut him from ear to ear. There was also some suggestion that the matter be settled outside, but Chappell refused, saying he didn’t fight. “You either end up in jail or in hospital...”

Thirty four years later, now aged 55 and 67, Botham and Chappell chose an Adelaide parking lot to renew their relationship. But all they managed to do was drop their respective bags and go at each other, before being quickly separated. No one went to jail, no one went to hospital. Now what kind of dust-up is that?

Australian cricketers tend to have larger mouths than other sportsmen. They bring these with them to the field to talk opposition out; they take them to bars to gulp down lager half a litre at a time.

By and large, it works for them. Though there is the odd occasion when it doesn’t. I remember the former fast bowler (and later TV host) Mike Whitney coming on as a substitute and fielding a push from Ravi Shastri with remarkable sharpness of both body and tongue. Shastri was contemplating a run, in the inimitable subcontinental way; considering the issue as if it were an indulgence which he may or may not be able to afford, like buying an expensive wristwatch.

He had made a few tentative moves forward when Whitney, primed for a throw, snapped: “You take another f***ing step and I’ll break those stumps down.” To our boy’s credit, he showed awareness and poise. Safe in his ground, Shastri said: “If your bowling was as good as your throw, you wouldn’t be the f***ing twelfth man.”

The physicality of Australian sport is actually part of a much bigger picture. On the field it’s wonderful to watch, even listen to — the constant threat of violence has a way of making nerves tingle. Actual violence is a different thing. And that is the worrying part about Australia — everybody seems to want to live up to the idea of ‘being Australian’.

It isn’t street violence with knives and weapons. It is the violence of otherwise respectable men who somehow don’t think too much about causing hurt — as long as it is without weapons, give or take a few broken beer glasses.

David Hookes, the beautiful left-hander, died outside a bar in Australia. His life punched out of him by a bouncer. Then, I had wondered, was that necessary?

I am sure both Chappell and Botham would say it wasn’t. But when it comes to themselves, they feel compelled to have a good old go. Botham’s case is more of a reaction, the playing of a character that gives the Aussies what the Aussies dish out. A different man in the West Indies, he is calmed by mind-altering substances and distracted to the point of breaking a bed in happy circumstances.

Chappell, I think, is in character too. He is playing an Australian.

Till the point that no one gets hurt, I think it is wonderful to watch from the sidelines. We missed a chance in 1992 — the 25th anniversary of Ian Vs Ian — to constitute an award parallel to the Ashes. The ‘Dust (up)’. It’s only 16 years away from the 50th anniversary of that event. God willing, both gentlemen will be alive and well when we formalise that trophy (a historic broken beer glass) in 2017. In the meantime, sirs, go for it. Go to jail if you please, but try and avoid the hospital.

Published in The Express Tribune, December 9^th, 2010.