Warmth of the Iceman

Steve Waugh was perhaps the greatest captain ever to step onto a cricket field. Today, he is one of cricket’s greatest philanthropists.

“Steve.” The voice is deep. The tone is a little rude. It emanates from an elderly man in a dark blazer. In the lobby of the Taj Lands End, in the white light of approaching noon, Steve Waugh turns and looks over his left shoulder. The man in the blazer, who could be in his late 50s or early 60s, is charging towards Waugh. “Can I have your autograph, please?” he says, a little more courteous now.

Waugh doesn’t look too charmed. “It’s for my son,” the man says. The clever mention of Dark Blazer Junior clinches it. Waugh signs and says something sarcastic. But it is not clear what he had said. Waugh resumes walking to a room that, as per the hotel’s orders, is the only place on the premises where the photographer can take Waugh’s picture.

“Stupid rule,” Waugh says. “It’s just a photo.”

It would be surprising if Steve Waugh did not have another side to his personality—where he is loose and off the leash. But with strangers he is always businesslike. He won’t greet you with “How you goin’, mate?” as warmer Australian cricketers might. It’s just a handshake and a nod. At the best of times in the public eye, Waugh says little and is not exactly friendly.

This morning is not the best of times. He had slept at 2 am the previous night. Some people he was to meet haven’t turned up. And someone has inveigled an autograph off him without so much as a by-your-leave. Waugh’s body language exudes impatience or resignation. He thrusts his meaty hands in the pockets of his grey jeans, which he has paired with a grey Lacoste polo. He sighs and helplessly follows the schedule that has been chalked out for him. He also seems to have a stiff neck, because he keeps rolling or tilting it.

But let’s remind ourselves what kind of animal this Waugh is. He is the second most successful Test captain ever, with 41 Test wins (Ricky Ponting overtook him as No. 1 last December). He has won the World Cup twice and has scored 32 Test centuries. He is a tireless author, with more published words to his name than some professional writers (nearly a dozen books, including a 700-page autobiography). He is the greatest philanthropist in cricket, after Ian Botham. He is committed to the girls’ wing at Udayan, a foster home for children of leprosy patients in Kolkata. (Waugh is often seen as the founder of Udayan. That is incorrect. He supports its girls’ wing, Nivedita Bhavan). All this would not have been possible without great reserves of professionalism. So, now, though he is not in the mood and is somewhat irritable, Waugh not only goes ahead with the interview but also helps to find a suitable spot. The long list of questions startles him, and he demands to be let off sooner than agreed upon. Gradually, though, he thaws.

“Watching shows you don’t want to watch, eating things you don’t want to eat… that did not excite me. I wanted to meet real people. I wanted to get out of the hotel room,” Waugh says when asked about his willingness—atypical for an athlete—to take on additional, enervating missions in the midst of a contest. Most active sportsmen conserve time and energy. Bjorn Borg only read comics because anything heavier might burden his mind. But Waugh would not mind dissolving in a city or setting pen to paper after a long day in the field.

“It was an outlet to get out of cricket and I needed that,” Waugh says.

Because of his high forehead, all the action on Waugh’s face seems to be on the lower half. This is where his eyes, nose and mouth coexist. He is bald at the temples. But a fortunate mop above his forehead makes him look a boyish 44-year-old. It is not how much hair you have but where you have it. He often looks at you a bit sideways while listening or speaking.

We discuss an improbable aspect of Waugh’s batting record. One does not usually associate a 50-plus average and 32 hundreds with a lower-middle-order batsman (Waugh mostly batted at No. 5 or 6 in Tests). There are only a handful of such cases and one of them is Sir Garfield Sobers.

Asked if he could have batted higher up, Waugh says, “I could have, but it did not suit the team. I don’t have an ego. I was okay batting anywhere. Batting lower has its own challenges. You got to wait longer. The ball is old and reverse swinging. You got to bat with the tail.”

Was he happy batting low?

“I batted No. 3 most of my career for New South Wales. I was happy doing it, but was also happy batting lower for Australia. The one thing I would have liked is to bat higher in one-day cricket. The team was very settled at the top and No. 5, 6 and 7 came in the last few overs. I felt I could not show what I could do in ODIs.”

I had taken special care to be on time for the appointment. In 2001, someone kept him waiting and it became an international controversy. Does the Sourav Ganguly incident still rankle?

“It did not rankle me at the time,” he says, a trifle too promptly. “I don’t believe all the talk about it being a great tactic. It just showed a lack of etiquette.”

Asked if he has met Ganguly since, Waugh says, “Yeah, it’s fine. Look, at the time I just felt it showed a lack of respect. You are representing your country.”

Considering the friction between Waugh and Ganguly, it seems natural that Ganguly did not extend invitations to dinner at his Behala mansion to John Buchanan. How could Ganguly click with someone who clicked with Waugh? Waugh and Buchanan guided Australia to the record books with 16 consecutive Test wins. Ganguly and Buchanan guided the Kolkata Knight Riders into stand-up comedy material.

“I don’t think John understood Indian culture,” Waugh says. “There wasn’t a lot of local support staff in the team. When you have someone like Sourav Ganguly, who is a bit of a complicated guy, you’ve got to spend time with the players to know them better.”

With the exception of the Ganguly chapter, Waugh has had a special, honest relationship with India. He does not always wax eloquent about it, but acknowledges the defining role India has played in his cricket and life. Waugh made his debut and played his last Test against India. It was in India that Australia won the first of their four World Cups in 1987 and started an astounding turnaround. Waugh was part of that side. It was in Chennai, India, that a Test finished as a tie for only the second time in history. Again, Waugh was in the team. Away from the field, Waugh started working for Udayan in Kolkata and wrote one of his several tour diaries on the 1996 World Cup in India and Pakistan.

“Sometimes things seem to align,” he says. “India is an interesting place. You are never sure what you are going to get. It stimulates me to take photos, write, set up my charity.” Bar a few exceptions, Indian cricketers are not known for their charity work. The reasons could be many. The earlier generations played before the time of the NGO wave. And only since the 1983 World Cup have Indian players got rich. Or perhaps Indian cricketers just love their Italian clothes and bank balances too much. One cannot remember a sustained effort, such as Waugh’s at Udayan, by an Indian cricketer.

“It is their choice,” Waugh says. “I can say to them that they can make a difference. They are in a privileged position. If you have to do it, do it for the right reason, that’s what I would say to them.”

Waugh’s own ‘moment of clarity’, to quote the brutal yet lovable Jules Winnfield of Pulp Fiction, came when he met Mother Teresa in Kolkata. “It was in 1995 or 96. The meeting was brief. We shook hands but not a lot was said. She had an aura, a way with people. I thought if she could do such incredible things then people in a position of influence could do it too.” In 1998, he teamed up with Udayan.

There would be few World Cups like the one in 1987, where there was so much certainty about who the finalists would be. That India and Pakistan would provide a glorious denouement at the Eden Gardens seemed preordained. But in the semis, Australia beat Pakistan, England defeated India. In the final, Australia beat England to the relief of Indian fans. Waugh was one of the key players, scoring 167 runs at an average of 55.66 and taking 11 wickets at an average of 26.18.

“We were one of the least favourite teams,” Waugh says. “But we worked the hardest. I remember training in 40 degrees heat. We also had great team spirit. We won three or four games in the last over. Personally, I got the opportunity to bowl at the death. I enjoyed that.”

As a batsman, though, Waugh’s finest moment came in the West Indies and not India. It was the Frank Worrell Trophy of 1994-95. With Curtly Ambrose and Courtney Walsh in their prime and a young Brian Lara in the batting line-up, the West Indies were still a few years from their slump. Waugh, batting at No. 5, scored 429 runs at an average of 107.25 to inspire Australia to a 2-1 series win. He was named the Player of the Series. The enduring image of the series was his fighting 200 in the last, decisive Test and his verbal confrontations with Ambrose. ‘He followed through to within two metres away from me and gave me the regulation Clint Eastwood stare,’ he wrote of Ambrose in his West Indian Tour Diary.

Waugh agrees that fast bowling has declined since. “There are very few (genuine fast bowlers) now. They are all basically medium pacers. Mitchell Johnson is quick, probably Malinga too. But there is no one who is a real menace.”

Is anyone from the current generation at the same level as the speed demons of the 1980s and 90s? Waugh says, “Brett Lee was, but he is not playing Test cricket anymore. Shane Bond could have been there, but he did not play as much Test cricket either.”

He says he enjoys Twenty20. “They (the cheerleaders) don’t faze me.” About Mark Waugh, his more reckless twin, he says, “Our styles were different but I scored at almost the same strike rate as him.”

It is obvious that though retired, he is still competitive. Do he and Mark speak and meet often? “No. Our lives are different and busy. We don’t live close anymore. He is two hours away. We see each other occasionally and we get on fine. We speak on the phone when we have to.”

Waugh was in India to promote 6UP, an interactive mobile phone game. Every time someone plays the game, a percentage goes to the Steve Waugh Foundation. Expectedly, Waugh himself does not have the time for electronic games or even other mobile phone features.

“I use the Blackberry. I text and email with it but I’m not into the other features.”

What about his three children?

“I believe kids don’t need mobile phones. But my daughter is 14 and pushing for one.”

About The Author

Akshay Sawai