An Englishman living in Australia writing about the greatest game of all

Regardless of his past deeds, a man walks out to bat with nothing to his name and in silence, except for the sound of his own foot steps and such remarks as his hosts care to make

With the 2009 Ashes series beginning this week i have thoroughly enjoyed the exponential increase in sensationalised media releases about anything from Phil Hughes apparent fallibility against the short stuff to Warney making a shock come back (you wouldn't you hellman). To my utmost delight i opened the paper yesterday to scan through the pages for the scores from the recent tour match to be greeted by the instantly recognisable musings of the most elegant and insightful journalist in the country,one Peter Roebuck.

Cricket is a pursuit wherein the lessons of life are learnt. They are not taught with the tenderness encountered elsewhere, for the game does not permit its children an easy raising or its veterans a comfortable passing.

One of my fondest pass times (Jake Stone "Whats a pass time", Interviewer- "Something you do to pass the time")in summer involves having a slice of toast and scoping the pages of the Harald for the inquisitive and poignant insights that Roebuck has provided regarding whatever aspect of the noble game of cricket is happening on that particular day. This guy is an absolute ledge and I'm actually a little afraid to throw out the claim of word smith, as it has been thrown out so frequently on this site that i believe it cheapens the glory of Roebucks ability to capture the fleeting wonder of this game of bat and ball.


Cricket is a game played in the mind. Give a man confidence and he will walk among kings. Drag him down and he will scurry among crabs.

Roebuck graduated from Cambridge University (one of the most prestigious Schools in the Googaplex) played County cricket for Somerset for 15 odd years and Writes for the Herald and Age, as well as providing ball to ball coverage on ABC radio, so its safe to say he has pretty much seen it all. Roebuck has often been embroiled in controversy, for whether friend or foe he goes skits, tells is how it is and pulls no punches. He predicted Ponting would play for Australia when he was 15, then would later push for his sacking after a spiteful test match, poked gentle fun at the fielding of Inzamam Ul Huq, provided an expert analysis of the ramifications of Ghilchrists famous walk, backed the selection of Warnie after her went for 150 in his first game and done all this an more in a unique style that paints a vivid picture (often using out of control metaphors) of the great game and its array of unique characters.



Marcus Trescothic nibbled like a confused hamster and a tickle was hear in important places. Tescothic's mum and Dad still provide the teas at their local club, so the lad walked without waiting for Mr Bucknors decision, a verdict that generally arrives by pigeon post.



As you may have guessed this article has run on the dichotomy of Roebuck quotes breaking up paragraphs of what your humble blogsquadder has to say. It is but a glimpse into the bullshit literary skills that this man holds as each an every piece he pens highlights the beautiful subtleties of this fine old game.

Warne struck again as a delivery skittled through to a batsman trapped like a thief in a spotlight. For some it remains bewildering that such a gift could be bestowed upon such an apparently vulgar fellow.

If you want your own, more in depth, taste of Roebuck and can't get a hold of the Herald then check out his website www.peterroebuck.com which has an exstensive back catalogue of his newspaper articles from around the globe, or check out one of his 7 books, of which i recommend It Takes All Sorts, a piece that documents the careers and feats of some of the games greats and not so greats, and In It to Win It, a wonderful account of the rise of the Australian cricket team out of the deep despair of the early 80's to the feats of Waugh, McGrath, Warney and the rest of the hellmen. If all else fails tune in to SBS for the Ashes turn down the volume and get some verbal Roebuck jammed in your ear piece via the waves transmitted by ABC radio.

Cricket is not a game of bat and ball. It is an internal struggle, a war raged between a man and himself. The opposition is merely a convenience.