The Lord Giveth and the Lord Hath Taken Away
It was the best of times; it was the worst of times, to steal Dickens most famous line. It was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, to once again borrow from old Charlie for nobody else has the words to sum up the sweet highs and devastating lows the first day of December in this the 2009th year of our Lord hath brought.
As usual, I woke up on December 1 sometime around ten and meandered to the deck for coffee, cigarettes and the daily newspapers. I, of course, was aware of the Liberal leadership ballot and quickly turned on the ABC. It was then the wonderful news arrived. Tony Abbott, the man I had hoped would lead the Liberal Party for many years, had finally ascended to his rightful place atop the tree. Tony Abbott was now the big dog in Liberal politics. And he won me a sizable bet by downing both Hockey and Turnbull as the roughie. He never stops endearing himself to me.
The Liberal Party needs Tony Abbott now. And with a good deal of intelligence they handed him the keys to the castle.
Electorally the parliamentary Liberal Party had little choice but to turn to Tony Abbott. Malcolm Turnbull was a failure and most likely never would have led the Coalition back to Government. His polling was bad, his leadership was divisive and his manner was arrogant. Regardless of his politics- and these days I identify more with Turnbull’s liberalism than I do with the conservatism of the hard right- Turnbull had to go for purely pragmatic reasons.
The Liberal Party has had three great leaders who between them have governed Australia for over half of the pre-World War II days: Robert Menzies, Malcolm Fraser and John Howard. All three were conviction politicians and all three sat on the right of the Liberal Party. The likes of John Hewson, John Gorton, Billy McMahon and Andrew Peacock rarely won over the electorate because they rarely stood for anything tangible and they were considered moderates or small l liberals. If the Liberal Party is to return to government in the next five years then Tony Abbott is the only man who can lead them there.
The ALP and his haters will attempt to label Abbott a fascist and a zealot but he is anything but. He is a man with conviction and more importantly, he is an everyman who has broad appeal. He is the right man for the job.
Even if it doesn’t work out and he never becomes Prime Minister, though the smart money is one day he will, the Abbott leadership should be plenty of fun. He won’t be afraid to kick some heads. Kevin Rudd’s pretty face will be battered and bruised before too long. The enjoyable flirtation between Abbott and Julia Gillard will likely only crank up a notch. Julia will be aching for Tony to amend her bill, Tony will enjoy Julia reading him the standing orders, they will both be dreaming of a double dissolution. It will be high comedy.
The joy of Tony Abbott’s rise to the Liberal leadership was quickly tempered, however, with news that Brad Hodge had announced his retirement from first class cricket and in doing so bought a despondent end to the career of one of the most molested and ill fated cricketers of this era or any other. The dwindling chance that Hodge would win a rightful recall to the Australian Test team was extinguished for good with his decision to walk away from the longer form of the game. There would be no redemption for the most wronged man in the history of Australian cricket.
I first met Brad Hodge sometime around 1995. It was at the SCG in a Sheffield Shield match between the hometown New South Wales and Victoria. I may have been the only person in attendance among the two-to-three hundred there cheering on Victoria despite the fact I had, to that point, never been south of the Murray. Those were days when I was far more interested in cricket than I am now though probably just as cynical when it comes to the politics of the sport after my first cricketing hero Dean Jones had, without reason, been dropped from the Australian team for a talentless young punk named Damien Martyn.
Brad and a young Tedeschi were chatting away while the Victorians were batting, talking about cricket and life and nothing in particular. Hodge had been dismissed for not many and had plenty of time on his hands and as you would expect, he was a top class bloke signing for the kids and chatting with whoever happened to be about. Matt Elliott was in the middle and stuck on 99 for quite a while when I flippantly asked Hodge if Elliott would make the ton. “I’ll bet my house on it with you” he replied. Next ball Elliott was out.
Though Hodge welshed on the wager I have remained a devout supporter ever since. It wasn’t hard to follow Brad Hodge though. I had eyed him out at a young age but so had many and he never let one of us down. He was a delight to watch, a fine accumulator of runs who was equally adept on the front foot driving as he was on the back foot pulling. He never had the grace of a Mark Waugh or the flash of a Dean Jones but he was full of pluck and grit and he rarely gave his wicket away.
Back in those heady days of the late nineties when the world seemed full of endless possibilities for both Brad Hodge and I, it seemed inevitable that Hodge would have a stellar Test career where he would be a stalwart for a decade or more. There were few batsmen with his talent and even fewer with his record.
Time and time again, however, Brad Hodge was looked over by a selection panel who have become renowned for not only foolish decisions but extreme bias and a want to pick teams based on popularity and marketability rather than talent or ability.
The travesty that is the unfulfilled and all too brief Test career of Brad Hodge is unparalleled in modern Australian cricket and the blame lies entirely at the feet of the selection panels led by Trevor Hohns and Andrew Hilditch, the priorities of Cricket Australia over the last half-decade and the sense of entitlement for a select few fostered under the captaincy of Ricky Ponting. Every one of those responsible for keeping Brad Hodge away from his rightful position in the Australian middle order should not only hide their face in shame but should have holes stomped in their ears and their testicles removed. We would have an army of deaf eunuchs receiving cheques from Cricket Australia but that is exactly what cricket in this country deserves after the inhumane and inequitable treatment dished out to Brad Hodge.
For reasons known only to those who perpetrated the atrocities, Brad Hodge was ostracised from the Australian team. Despite an incomparable first class record, Hodge was constantly overlooked for inferior players. Damien Martyn and Michael Clarke were but two. When he made the Australian team, he averaged 58 in six Tests including an unbeaten double century against South Africa yet was dropped two Tests later. Not only was he not in the eleven, he was not selected in the touring party. The likes of Martyn, Clarke, Andrew Symonds and Shane Watson were afforded opportunity after opportunity yet Hodge was thrown from calculations after scoring a double ton. He was, for all intents and purposes, blacklisted.
Cricket Australia didn’t find him marketable. He didn’t fit into the Rat King’s social circle. He refused to get down on his knees and felicitate the likes of Trevor Hohns and Andrew Hilditch, as they expected of him. He was persona non grata and that title remained permanent when he called the selectors out and demanded an explanation as to why Andrew Symonds was selected ahead of him. He never played a Test for Australia again.
And he never will. That dream is over. For him and for me. Brad Hodge leaves first class cricket rightfully embittered that he was stitched up by a group of talentless and malicious fools who wouldn’t recognise a decent batsman if they were punched in the balls by one.
The tale of Brad Hodge is one of tragedy, politics and wrongs. It won’t ever be forgotten: by me, by Hodge, by anybody who cares about cricket in this country.
The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. It is life, it is karma, it is just the way the world works. Never get comfortable. Never get happy. The Great Equaliser is just around the corner. Never forget that.