John Alexander (Bennelong, Liberal Party) Share this | Hansard source

Sport is a very important part of our culture—possibly more so than in any other country—and cricket holds a very special place in that sporting heritage. Richie Benaud certainly held a very special place in cricket. It is a cliche, but interestingly—as we have heard from our colleagues—this is one that unites us all: Richie Benaud was the voice of cricket, the voice of our summer. Whilst we often welcome to our shores commentators from other countries, like Britain, to commentate on cricket, and an American or two to commentate on other sports, it is very rare that an Australian is invited to commentate in Britain, but Richie was as admired and accepted in Britain, the home of cricket, as he was in Australia.

His unique voice will stay with us all. Hearing it instantly evokes memories of its companion sounds of cicadas in trees, of a bat on a ball and of Bill Lawry's cheers—what a great duo they were. It would tell you also about Richie's generosity in working with his fellow commentators. His voice is synonymous with the halcyon days of summers long gone and summers which will be missed now forever. That is Richie the cliche; Richie the man has a far greater legacy which speaks to his sportsmanship, his leadership and his commitment.

Joining the Australian team as a batsman he soon impressed with the ball and became a fixture in the team, filling the massive shoes of Bill O'Reilly was not an easy feat. But Benaud's skill as a leg-spin bowler strengthened Australia's reputation in this dark art—to be cemented years later by one Shane Warne. On the field, Benaud's statistics speak for themselves. He remains number 8 on the list of leading Australian wicket-takers, with his 248 wickets taken in only 63 games. This left him as the highest wicket-taker in Australia at the time of his retirement. Impressively, these wickets were taken at an economy of 2.10, by far the lowest in the top 10. While history has remembered his bowling ahead of his batting, he is still the holder of the third-fastest test century in minutes—and his score of more than 10,000 first-class runs. Indeed, for most of his career he was considered an all-rounder and was famously the first player to score 2,000 runs and take 200 wickets in their career. This unique record keeps Richie in exalted company.

As impressive a player as he undoubtedly was, Benaud's leadership is perhaps his greatest onfield legacy. His collegiate approach to captaincy set a benchmark that all subsequent leaders of our team have tried to emulate. Richie took charge of a young team following the retirement of Bradman and most of 'The Invincibles'. As our recent cricket history demonstrates, rebuilding a team after its foundations retire is no easy feat. But Australia's return to form following the post-Bradman slump can be directly attributed to his aggressive captaincy and to his ability to unite his team.

The opening day of the famous tied test saw over 250 runs scored. This may not be a great feat in today's age of thick bats and sympathetic pitches, but it apparently led to the unflappable Bradman embracing Richie with excitement at the prospect of what this could mean for the future of cricket. And the crowds did flock to see the attacking style of the play over the following four days with sold out crowds throughout the match. This series epitomised test cricket as it should be: aggressive, attacking, hard-fought and very close. Yet any confrontation between the teams on the field was replaced with civility and respect off the field, with both teams recognising the hard work and the talents of their opponents. Sadly, this sort of competitive camaraderie is hard to imagine these days.

If his captaincy style reformed test cricket, it was his involvement in world series cricket and commentary that led the sport in new popular directions and secured his legacy as one of the greats of the sport. The success of one-day cricket was dependent on the broadcasting, and Richie ensured it was a runaway hit. The years that followed brought all of us great calls. Benaud's commentary of the ball of the century was almost as memorable as the ball itself. His composure when his retirement speech from British TV was interrupted by a howling McGrath wicket was nothing of short of poetry. He summed up his philosophy about commentary by saying: 'Put your brain into gear. And, if you can add to what is on screen, then do it. Otherwise, shut up.' As a young commentator I was given the same advice. It is not radio; it is television. You do not need to tell people what they have just seen. So, as a fellow commentator, I can attest to the truth of this philosophy: let the picture tell the stories.

One of his less famous roles, yet one that impacted on me personally, was in his time spent in sport as the IMG agent in Australia. I had been signed up by IMG—Mark McCormack's group—and he thought it would be nice for me to meet the Australian agent, Richie Benaud. My father was delighted to come with me and have lunch with Richie. My father claimed to be the youngest player of his school to ever make the first grade team and, like all men of his age, he played against the great Don Bradman. He did not embellish the story any more to say he bowled him out three times—which did not happen. I think he actually did play against Don Bradman as his school often played against Bowral and so there is every chance that that was not such an embellishment. He was absolutely delighted to meet Richie. We drove to his apartment in Bondi, picked him up and we went to the Sebel Townhouse and you just think, this is Christmas to be with this great sportsman—and Dad's first love was cricket, as was mine.

The day got better because Harry Secombe was at an adjoining table—being a great fan of cricket, he arranged his calendar of events to coincide with the cricket—and so he came and joined us. For a dad and his son to come from the northern beaches to have had lunch in the city with Richie Benaud and Harry Secombe, you go home and tell Mum about this and get 'sure boys, you have lost it'. Whenever I would run into Richie in future years, rare as that might have been, I would remind him of his stint with IMG and our meeting and what it meant to the Alexander family and how he touched us. The only time I can recall seeing Richie upset, or maybe lose his cool, was during the underarm bowling incident. It had some impact on us because just a few months later we played tennis against New Zealand, in New Zealand, and we got less than a friendly response. There was that great saying that 'it just wasn’t cricket' because cricket embodied not just a win at all costs; it was how you played the game. When you think of the term 'it's just not cricket', you know it doesn't apply to Richie Benaud—he was the epitome of the sport.

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