When Dreams Comes True

The Ashes. Nothing quite grabs the collective imagination of Australians more than the age-old Test cricket rivalry between England and Australia. For many young boys and girls, fantasising about playing Test cricket for Australia occupies a considerable amount of time during their teenage years. In my case this took the shape of games played in my mind, bowling to imaginary batters in the bottom paddock and playing “Tests” on a grid drawn on a sheet of paper. I listened to Test matches in bed, in class and even in chapel. I’d learnt to cleverly disguise the lead on my transistor by running it up my sleeve to my cupped ear. It is fair to say I was obsessed with Test cricket and the Ashes.

So, imagine my reaction when, years later, my agent rang me,

 “Do you play cricket?”

Why would she be asking this?

 “Yes.” I volunteered. “Why?”

 “Kennedy-Miller are making a series on Bodyline.”

 “On Bodyline? You mean about Bodyline?”

 “Something like that. Are you interested?”

 “Am I interested???”

 “They need actors who can play a bit of cricket. Do you…”

She didn’t need to finish the sentence.

On the day of the interview, I was so nervous I took myself to “ET “to take my mind off it. Bad idea. I was wiping tears out of my eyes when I sat down to talk to George Ogilvie, Lex Marinos and the other directors.

 “Sorry. I’ve just been to ET.”
Hardly the look of a grizzled Australian Test cricketer. Fortunately, George was sympathetic. The interview went pretty well although I’m not sure it was an interview, more a monologue on every fact and figure about the Ashes I could dredge up in five or ten minutes.

A few days later the phone rang. I’d been waiting on edge of my seat ever since the interview.

 “They want to see you again.”

My heart leapt. I tried to be cool but I don’t think I succeeded. I was waiting for her to tell me to come in and get the script for the screen test, but she told me just to go to the SCG nets. That was odd.

 “There isn’t a script. Yet”.

The plot thickened but I was still in the running.  I had a call back and that was all that mattered. When I got there, I joined the other actor/cricketers as well as the actor/non cricketers. Lex told me that I had been cast but they wanted to see me play to work out who they’d cast me as.

 “I bowl leggies…”

Shut up Ned. Leggies played a minor role in the Bodyline Series. They wanted to see me bat. Lex humoured me.

 “I know you do but pad up.”

 I have never been so nervous going out to bat in my life.

My “audition” went well. I kept my elbow up and my head down. I even played a couple of decent cover drives. The “selectors” that is the four directors (three who knew almost nothing about cricket) seemed to nod in approval as I took my gloves off and tried to walk past them as nonchalantly as possible. As though it was just another net session. I imagined that Lex gave me a knowing wink. He did smile. What did that mean? Was I going to get a baggy green? He didn’t let on. Nor did the other selectors.

 Waiting for the phone to ring after an audition was always nerve wracking. This was torture. I had never wanted a role so much. I couldn’t be far from the phone. I couldn’t go anywhere or do anything. The longer I had to wait the more I thought I’d missed out. Then the phone rang.

 “You’ve been cast as Archie Jackson.”

I nearly screamed but, knowing a bit about Archie Jackson, thought that would be out of character. I was fist pumping madly while sounding as cool, calm and collected as I could over the phone. I was wrapt. Cast to play the classic Balmain boy who some said was better than Bradman but tragically died young. He didn’t play in the Bodyline series, but they told me the series was going to focus on the lead up to Bodyline when Archie flourished and leg theory was hatched.

 Then the good…no… incredible news. I was offered a three-month contract. Contracts like that for a whole bunch of actors were unheard of. Kennedy-Miller were introducing a contract system something like the old Studio system in the US. It meant that I would be spending three months pretending I was a test cricketer. Talk about boyhood fantasies coming true.

 We started rehearsing. Which meant net sessions at Riverview College. I took my dog, Unging. I took him everywhere. What I didn’t expect was that Unging would be offered a role as Yabba’s dog. Well, actually, as Unging’s newly appointed agent, I was asked if he would like to be in it. When they told me the fee, it was an offer I couldn’t refuse. Enough dog food for a lifetime. It turned out that Unging’s daily fee was more than some of the actors. This was getting better and better.

 Then another phone call.

 “They’ve dropped Archie Jackson, they decided that his story was more interesting than Bradman’s…”

 My heart sank. Another dream shattered. There was a pause. I was waiting the be told I was out. But…

 “So…they’ve decided you can play…Jack Fingleton.
Jack Fingleton! I knew Jack Fingleton. His son Jim was my brother’s best friend. Jack had dragged me off the dance floor by the ear at Jim’s wedding.

 Rehearsals proper took place at the SCG. A workshop in the Members Dining Room, talks from former Test players in the Australian Dressing Room. The Australian Dressing Room!! It was like rehearsing in Saint Peter’s Basilica or at Masjid a-Haram in Mecca. Then there were net sessions to sharpen our skills at the SCG nets and, of course, team bonding beers at the Bat and Ball Hotel. This was the best job ever. We even had a “Test” between England and Australia at the old SCG no.2 Oval. Australia won. Of course.

 Most of the cricket was shot at Mosman Oval but we did the dressing room stuff at the SCG. And…I got to walk out to bat out of the Aussie dressing room, down the Member’s steps and onto the hallowed turf of the SCG. I mean you couldn’t make it up. I was more than happy to do a few extra takes.

 “I think we need another one.” I’d tell George. He humoured me and we did.

Taking centre on the SCG pitch was just…I tried to pretend it was acting but it was like dying and going to heaven. I didn’t want it to end. Peter Philpott, ex Test leg spinner and our cricket coach, chucked down a few bumpers that I let hit me. Fingleton got pummelled by Larwood so I winced, grimaced and flinched. I even got to play a couple of good drives. To top it all off, on a couple of shooting days, we even had a crowd in the Ladies Stand. It was magic.

 As for the special baggy greens with “1932-33 “stitched below the Australian crest, it was very special to put it on, but I knew I was just acting. After we’d finished shooting most of us gave our caps back. It just didn’t seem right to keep a baggy green unless you’d really earnt it. In a real Test match.

 It was fun pretending though.