Mr Cricket (8 page)
I've been asked a few times whether I wished Dad would have let us do our own thing, or if I felt scared or threatened by him. But I can say 100 per cent that neither Dave nor I was ever worried about him getting angry or aggressive. Explaining the way he acted and the things he said might make that hard to believe. But the key to it all was the way he delivered what he said. He didn't say things in a way that sounded angry. It was more just about pushing us along. âCome on, push, push!' he'd yell, but never with a nasty undertone. On the contrary, I found him to be very encouraging. If we ran a bad time he'd never say we had to âpick it up' or that we'd done anything wrong. He just wanted to make sure that if we were doing an activity we knew that we should do it as well as we could. He never made it a competition between the guys in the team and certainly not between his two sons. My recollection of those Sunday-morning runs and training sessions was that I just wanted to be better, stronger and faster so I could please him and because I enjoyed it. And also to beat David!
I enjoyed the fact that my father wanted to be so involved and I felt lucky for it. We enjoyed the tasks he set us. Ted's a funny guy, a loveable character, and he provided for us a humorous, comforting and positive outlet for our energy and competitiveness. With his raspy ocker accent, he'd yell out some classic lines along the way. I've told the guys in the Australian team some of Dad's quotes and they've all found them to be hilarious. Perhaps it wasn't what he said, it was more the way he said it that was so funny. âI'm going to go halfway up the sand hill and offer encouragement,' he used to say when were doing the Wanneroo pre-season work. Then he'd be up there screaming, âCome on you lazy things! Get your arms up! Knees knees knees!'
It was like listening to the great former Essendon coach Kevin Sheedy, with his gravelly voice and pumped fist. âNever give in! Don't give in!' Dad would say, eyes narrowed into slits and his mouth cocked to one side. âNever let your opponent think he's on top!', âNever show any weakness!' Later came lines like: âIt's mind over matter. I don't mind and you don't matter!'
TED HUSSEY
You don't get anywhere without hard work. That was probably the most important lesson Helen and I taught the boys. Mike knew from a very early age that you'll only get out of something what you put into it. Mike and David were both quite small when they were younger, yet have built themselves into solid men through hard work. Mike also had to apply himself strongly to his university work. That was another thing that didn't come naturally to him and by working hard he got through it. In sport, they have both learned how to get the best out of themselves and are on the right track because they knew hard work was the only way to get ahead of everyone else.
In fact, Mike has always had a great level of determination and he applied it to pretty much everything he did. Helen and I were adamant that the boys played sport, so it was a constant in Mike's life when he was growing up. We'd come from an athletics background, Helen played netball as well, and no matter which sport it was, we believed physical fitness was extremely important for our children. We wanted them to learn the benefits of sport and understand the techniques and mental attitudes involved. Early on for Mike it was all about cricket and squash and, because he didn't have size on his side, he paid a lot of attention to making sure his technique was right and keeping fit. Those qualities became very important later on.
Being fit and having a good technique in whatever sport he played allowed him to take on much bigger people and give a good account of himself. He did that in squash and it proved a good lesson that he was able to apply to cricket as well. He became quite a good squash player at one stage and was invited once to fill in for someone who had to pull out of a competition match. He was probably about 15 at the time. This was a red-hot competition, too, and the bloke he was playing against was in his 30s. He was a particularly nasty fellow. Even in the warm-up he bustled Mike around, pushed him out of the way a couple of times, trod on his foot and all the rest of it. When the game started he continued on with it and the umpire didn't stop him. Mike was intimidated by this bloke and lost the first set 9â0.
I went downstairs afterwards and said to Mike, âNow listen here. You're allowing this bloke to bludgeon you, to knock you out of the road and you've forgotten something.' All Mike wanted to do was get out of there. I continued, âIf you play squash and play your shots, you'll beat this bloke easily.' Needless to say, Mike won 0â9, 9â0, 9â0. I don't think he ever forgot that lesson: it's not the size of the dog in the fight, it's the size of the fight in the dog. In regards to cricket, Mike realised that it didn't matter how fast or how big the bowler was, if he got his foot to the pitch of the ball and got his bat in the right place, he was going to score runs. Get your technique right and fight hard, I would always tell the two boys, and the rest will follow.
Mike learned those lessons well and stuck to them. But I also think some of his success came naturally. I remember his first cricket coach at Whitfords, Bob Mitchell, asked him the question at training one night, âHow long would you like to train for?' Mike immediately replied, âOh, nine o'clock tonight would be pretty good'. My eyebrows went up. To get an attitude from a kid of about 10, wanting to apply himself like that was quite outstanding. His attitude was great from a very young age.
Now, I don't want to give the impression that Mike was a saint or anything like that. Let's not get carried away! Yes, he organised his time well, applied himself to whatever he did and worked hard to get ahead. But, like any other teenager, he pushed the boundaries a bit. The thing about Mike was that he just didn't get caught! He was too bloody smart! His brother got caught playing up but Mike must have hid it better, that's all. I can't think of any time when I had to give Mike a clip (we are talking about Mike here, not Dave!) and generally he did as he was told. But there were occasions
when he probably wished his parents would go away. I can't go past the time he was about to go away with the state Under 17s. I wanted to take pictures of him in his outfit â this was a big occasion and something to be captured for posterity. But Mike decided he didn't want to do it and the pictures of him, to this day, make me laugh because he's in this foul mood and pulling a pretty bad face.
He had some rebellion in him, and even though he was sharp and on top of most things, it's not as though everything went his way. When he wanted to play district cricket in the Under 15s, he was very confident of making the team because he had already spent two years playing district Under 13s. But he missed out and wasn't selected. Oh dear. Crestfallen is hardly the word! I put it to him, I said, âListen. They are very good players. It's no slight on your character or ability that you missed out. You are younger and they've decided to take the older boys who are probably better players than you at this point.' I told him he had to accept that, go back to Whitfords and prove to them with his bat that they were wrong. Mike went on to have a very good season after missing that team and was selected for it the following year. I think that experience shocked him and made him realise again that nothing would just come to him. He had to work for it and keep proving himself above the people around him.
It's not as though we had trouble teaching him that lesson. He set about proving himself almost every day in the backyard, which played host to some unbelievable fights between these two boys of mine. As they got older they kept at it and it got so dangerous that I'd just stay out of the way. One day some time in the early or mid-90s, Mike and David had an A-grade match for Wanneroo against the Scarborough club. Scarborough was a very strong unit back then. They had Justin Langer as captain, Matthew Nicholson and a number of other very good players and they used to thump everybody around the place. That morning the two boys had had another almighty fight in the backyard. I knew nothing about it and didn't really think twice when David asked me for a lift to the ground. Mike had left already, without taking David, but I didn't realise there was a problem â David didn't mention anything â so I took him to the ground.
Later that day they were batting together. They were still fighting with each other and got into this amazing hit-out in which they tried to beat one another. If Mike hit a one, David had to hit a two. If David hit a four, Mike would hit a six, and so on. It was just about outdoing one another â anything you can do, I can do better. Wanneroo won the game and both the boys made a hundred.
It's great that Mike has made it this far. When he started off in the state side I know that he lacked some confidence. He was still a teenager and had gone in a short space of time from thinking he wasn't good enough to play A-grade to all of a sudden playing alongside some very good players for WA. Tom Moody was in that team and he's only 11-foot tall, isn't he? Tom is someone who doesn't put up with a second-rate performance and he gave Mike a bit of stick early on. But, to his credit, my boy stuck at his task and eventually cemented his place.
Mike didn't talk to me about the problems he was having back then. One thing Helen and I were very strong on raising the boys was getting them to think for themselves. If you're going to take on a challenge, you set your mind to it and you do it properly â and that includes having the right information about the task. Mike was able to do that from a very early age.
It's a fortunate man who can make a living doing what he enjoys, and Mike has always loved his cricket. Playing for WA was a big thrill. And to cement his place in that team was a good effort. You have to remember he was rejected as a one-day player but took his opportunity when it came around again. There was an injury to Simon Katich, I think, and Mike got a chance, broke his back on 99, made a hundred and then took three wickets. That suggested that maybe he could play one-day cricket!
Playing Test cricket was another matter, however. People have asked me, âWhat's been your biggest moment in sport?' Well, Mike playing for Australia was probably it and, yes, maybe I was in awe of the whole thing. I never thought I'd actually even see a baggy green and now we had one in the family! People had been telling me for years that Mike would play for Australia, but I dared not believe it. Let's not tempt fate, I thought. But when he started making triple centuries in England I started to think, âOkay, maybe my boy can bat a bit.'
Because of Dad's positive influence we built up a great group of friends at Wanneroo, blokes who would come along each Sunday morning and have a run because they enjoyed it. We could all feel ourselves getting fitter and stronger. We'd blow ourselves out on the sand hill â which these days is affectionately known by the Wanneroo players as âHusseys' Hill' â then walk back along the beach, come home and do some weights. As Dad put it, cricket is a game about âaccelerating the implement'. That meant using light weights and doing them very quickly. It was all about accelerating the bar, doing high repetitions and, in so doing, becoming quicker at swinging the bat. I don't think Dad was surprised when I hit the ball into the roof at the Telstra Dome in Melbourne a couple of years ago.
But it wasn't enough just to do the weights. Dad decided the gym had to be cold and damp. There were cobwebs everywhere and the weights were rusty and old. He thought that was a way to train the mind at the same time as training the body. No one wanted to lift damp and cold weights after running up sand hills all morning, but Dad believed that if you could make yourself do it, you were training your mind to contend with adversity. Besides, the reward at the end was pretty good: Mum would make all of us lunch and we'd have a soft drink and watch the footy.
I don't know if my kids Jasmin, William or Molly will want to run up sand hills when they're older, but I do know I will pass on to them a lot of the lessons Mum and Dad taught me. My parents gave me technical advice, motivation skills, discipline, good manners and lots of love â all the basics of what makes a good sportsman and a good person.
That said, I don't think either of my parents could believe it when I started playing for Australia. Dad had coached so many different people and teams in so many different sports over a long period of time, but none had gone on to any great heights. When David and I started playing first-class cricket, our parents were very proud of us. But, when I was picked for Australia, I think it was more a sense of disbelief. They flew to Brisbane late on the day before my first Test. They didn't want to bother me the day before the game, but after the first day's play, Dad decided he had to have a look at my baggy green. It was a funny moment because the look of amazement in his eyes was so obvious. I think he just couldn't comprehend that a son of his had got this far â especially the one whose cricket career had started with a stick in his hand, trying to fend off blue pebbles in the backyard. But he wouldn't let on. He stared at my cap for ages while I chatted with Mum. Finally, he broke his silence.
âCome on then, give us a look at it.'
