I had only really started
watching cricket with any interest, and I would have assumed I was
oblivious to cricket’s capricious nature, when I saw THAT ball.
Not Shane Warne to Mike Gatting. Not Michael Holding to Geoff Boycott. Not Waqar Younis to Brian Lara.
David Boon to Phil Emery.
Even at my tender age, I knew
this to be an anomaly. And perhaps the only reason Boon ever bowled that
day was because it wasn’t an official ODI, but a good story is a good
story.
Australia were playing Australia
A in early 1995. And after the first XI’s bowlers copped some early
treatment from the dynamic Damien Martyn and the silky Greg Blewett, captain Mark Taylor turned
to a part-part-part-time off-spinner who had played almost 100 Tests for his country… as a batsman only.
What’s even stranger than a
batsman who has only taken a handful of first-class wickets in his lengthy career
taking up the attack? That same batsman being a success taking up the
attack. The innocuous nature of the figures was
proof enough. Five overs, no maidens, 1 for 13. He wasn’t getting
walloped around, Australia A’s initial rollicking momentum was brought
to a halt AND he got a wicket.
“How could this happen?” I
thought. “It’s David Boon! You can’t smash Warnie, but you can smash
Boonie! How did HE get a wicket?”
The curious fact among curious
facts in this story though is that Boonie was in actually form with the ball. In
a tour match against Zimbabwe a few weeks prior, Boon brought himself
on as the Zimbabweans defended in soggy conditions.
Boon trapped Guy Whittall in front. 6.4 overs, one maiden, 1 for 16.
“It was a beautiful piece of
bowling. I sucked him in with a couple he could turn around the corner,
and then produced the arm ball and did him.” (The Canberra Times: Tuesday, December 20, 1994)
It seems as if it was just
laughed off. Then, in a World Series final against his regular state
opponents (a fact which doesn't require further head-scratching), he produced another “arm ball and did him”. The unfortunate
victim was talented NSW ‘keeper Phil Emery. Emery
played a frankly ugly shot, shuffling down the wicket and pecking at the ball. It gently drifted between bat and pad, hit the stumps and Emery
painted on a face reminiscent of Gatting in 1993. Ian Chappell pushed out the words "Emery's gone, it's seven for 193" while concealing a big grin.
The memory of it endures not because the ball was
Warnesque, but because Emery just fallen victim to the down part of the
up-and-down attitude cricket possesses. Which is what makes cricket so engaging. Emery knew it, Chappell knew it, Taylor
knew it, Whittall knew it, Boonie knew it and
I knew it.
Check out the dismissal here (go to about 12.45 in the video, or better yet, watch the whole thing):
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