Mate
Over-used, over-crossed—and sometimes perfect
When the term “mate” buys you the time you need.
Left-arm wrist-spin is a hard craft to master. Since 2008, when I started to take coaching seriously, I’ve been lucky to know, watch, and work with two excellent practitioners. Neither have played first-class cricket: one, Callum Stow, has played for the Melbourne Renegades in the BBL, represented Victoria in domestic one-dayers, and flicked some out for the San Francisco Unicorns in Guyana last year. At 23, Stow is still growing into his trade. Watch this space.
The other played at Melbourne CC when I coached there from 2009 to 2016—multiple premierships, bowled quicker than most wrist-spinners, steep bounce from a high action, and a wicked wrong-un. A trait he shared with Stowy.
Yesterday at 10.15am, walking to a 10.30am CrossFit class in Newtown. Feeling apprehensive, as always. At least I'm not late. Turning left onto Gregory Ave, a couple with matching Retrievers—both young, neither wanting to be on leashes. After a cautious glance, the male (not the dog) shouts, "Hey Speaky, how are you?"
This is where the “mate” bit comes in.
"Mate, how are you?"
It must be six years since I've seen Sean Sturrock—”mate” bought just enough time to ID him. He'd hardly changed. "Sean, what are you doing here?" A brief catch-up—his partner, the dogs, why he was in Geelong. Great to see him, albeit briefly. CrossFit was waiting. I should have stayed and chatted!
You could easily argue that “mate” is like a poodle in Australia—over-used and over-crossed. In this instance, though, it was perfect.
Nick
