Hogan’s pearls of wisdom

January 16, 2019

I consider myself very fortunate to be one of many aspirational players that the late Martin Crowe spent time with.

This is my experience of the times I had with him.

Oddly enough, “Holy f#ck!” were two of the first words that ‘Marty’ ever said to me.

He’d been in contact with my club chairman at Auckland University Cricket Club and had offered to spend some time with some of our players.

Naturally, my hand was up even before he could finish his sentence.

Purple patch

I was in the middle of a rich vein of form.

I’d made 38 not out against Ish Sodhi’s Papatoetoe, 84 against Gareth Hopkins’ Parnell in a couple of 50-over matches and then in the first two-day match of the season I’d made 153 not out on a green seamer against former West Indian quick Franklyn Rose’s Birkenhead.

Following the hundred, I’d been handed Marty’s number and phoned him to leave a voicemail in the hope of organising a session with him.

The next weekend, we played Anaru Kitchen’s Waitakere away at Te Atatu Park.

The hosts had opted to bat first and racked up 370-odd by the end of day one.

On day two, player/coach Barrington Rowland and I knuckled down and put on 333 for the second wicket as we cruised past their total and closed the day on 400 for two, securing first innings points in the process.

Barry made 155 and I ended on 192 not out.

As if I wasn’t already on cloud nine, when I got back to the dressing room, I had a voicemail from Marty telling me to call him to organise a time for a hit.

A special end to the day

On the way home in the car, I phoned him back.

We chatted for a moment and then he asked me how I’d gone today.

I told him.

After a brief but seemingly long silence, out came those two words: “Holy f#ck!”

It was a nice hit for the ego to impress the great Martin Crowe.

However, he still hadn’t seen me play, so we organised a suitable time.

Going one-on-one with Hogan

That following week, he came and threw to me at the nets at Colin Maiden Park.

It was a surreal moment.

Here I was taking throw downs from one of the best batsmen the 1980s ever saw.

And, his throws were bang on the money.

He threw to me for 15-20 mins and made some observations and suggestions and said we should catch up again soon.

The next time, he came and met me at Colin Maiden Park while the Auckland Aces were playing the Central Stags.

As we wandered around the ground, he offered some insight into the things that were important to him as a player and therefore as a coach.

He watched Jamie How’s body language closely and noticed that he wasn’t taking time to breathe and relax himself in between balls.

He was willing How on for a big innings.

We also watched How’s opening partner bat.

As a purist, Marty found his lack of footwork akin to some of the worst behaviour ever witnessed on a cricket oval.

We hurried over to the nets shortly thereafter.

Feedback

He noticed the following:

My head position when the ball was on middle and leg stump was the reason why I was missing out on opportunities to hit through the leg-side.

He suggested I open my hips up in my stance by opening my front foot a little but to keep my shoulders square on and line them up with the bowler.

The idea is that it gives you a better chance of accessing the ball on your pads.

It’s a technique I still use today.

Sorry, Marty

Marty was kind enough to offer me some of his gear.

A beautifully weighted bat, some socks (both items GM of course) and some good quality balls to use for throw downs.

I gratefully accepted his offer.

It only dawned on me once I got home that given I was sponsored by Tazz Cricket, I would need to replace his beloved GM stickers with my own ones.

I set about removing the GM ones and replacing them with Tazz.

It was only during our next session when I removed Marty’s bat from my bag and I saw the look on his face that I thought to myself, ‘Perhaps I should have mentioned the sticker situation with him first.’

My bad, Marty.

A fateful day

The following summer, we were scheduled for another session when news hit that Marty had been diagnosed with cancer.

It was October 16, 2012.

I wondered whether he was going to turn up at all.

I would have completely understood if he didn’t.

Even if he didn’t communicate to tell me he couldn’t make it.

I would have expected his mind to be racing at a million miles an hour and for appointments to be removed from his consciousness.

But, to his credit and to my amazement, he turned up.

I watched as his uniquely strong frame wandered over to me at the nets, all padded up and ready to go.

His body language said it all.

We chatted briefly and he said, “I’m not feeling great, can we go somewhere to talk?”

So, I took my gear off and we headed up to the clubhouse.

He took some time to share what he’d learned about his form of cancer.

He was clearly shaken by its severity and was trying to come to terms with it.

Despite this, he wanted to know how I was doing and I opened up to him.

Coincidentally or not, that weekend I went on to make 182 not out in a 50-over match against Parnell.

Keeping in touch

At the time, I lived just around the corner from Marty and he said I could pop over anytime I liked to watch and talk cricket.

Unfortunately, I never took him up on the opportunity.

I thought it might be awkward being in his house and his wife’s space.

I now think about how much value I could have gained just from spending five minutes with him.

What I’ve learned since is that anytime those kinds of rare opportunities arise, you’ve got to snap them up!

False Hope

What I did take him up on however, was his offer to communicate over text message.

On one particular occasion, the Blackcaps were playing South Africa in Dunedin and Graeme Smith was being his usual immovable self at the crease.

I messaged Marty something like: ‘Technically, Smith gives us all hope.’

His response was, ‘That would be false hope, though, because Smith is an expert at organising his mind.’

While I wasn’t in his presence, he was still teaching lessons and it reinforced to me just how important the mental aspect of the game was.

The last hurrah

Watching ‘Hogan’ walk around Eden Park during the innings break of the New Zealand vs Australia group match at the 2015 Cricket World Cup accepting his induction into cricket’s Hall of Fame was a great way to publicly say goodbye to one of our greatest batsmen.

It was also a considerably emotional experience – and that’s just me, who barely knew him, let alone everyone else out there such as his friends, family and ex-teammates.

Those pictures said a lot.

Shots of the crowd adoring one of the nation’s greats 20 years after he last wore the black (or grey) of New Zealand.

And, then there was Marty.

Visibly moved by the whole experience, but also clearly very grateful for the opportunity to have that moment that day and be appreciated one last time by 50,000 screaming fans.

Well done to those at the ICC, NZC and Eden Park for making it happen.

Hogan’s pearls of wisdom

There are a few gems of advice that he offered that stick with me to this day:

As a batsman, you should only leave the pitch with the umpires.

A hundred alone is not enough – you got to make sure it’s a significant hundred.

Playing the ball with soft hands and using a light bat will allow you to deal with difficult balls in the channel in and around off-stump because the higher standard of bowler you come up against, they will test this very element of your game as often as they can.

Thanks, Marty

Marty gave me his time in the hope that I’d be able to realise my dream of playing international cricket for the New Zealand cricket team (as he always preferred to call it).

Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to achieve that, but at the very least, I’ve managed to tick the first-class cricket goal off the list.

While many people have played a significant role in my career over the years, there’s no doubt that Marty’s advice echoes that little bit louder in my mind than most because of his standing in the game.

I’m forever grateful for the time he gave me, and I hope he watches on from above with pride at the positive impact he’s had on so many people still playing the game today.

Vale Martin David Crowe.

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