Warnie

Shane Keith Warne.

In the constellation of Australian sport it is hard to name a star that burnt so brightly. Harder still to name one extinguished so unexpectedly. Dead at 52. At the dusk of an Australian summer as the sun rises later and settles sooner; a greater pall of loss and grief drawn across our Saturday.

Young kids rise for a weekend free from school as young parents rise from Friday night – many slow eyes and sore heads follow the unwinding of the week, the drudging into the day jolted not by the sore head, but by the heaviness of the news. The king is dead. There will not be another.

As far as celebrity deaths go this one strikes more like family. Shane wasn’t a cricketing hero – he was Warnie. He wasn’t a celebrity - he was our mate. We didn’t adore him like we adored upon other big-screen successes. We loved him. I loved him. He was family. I don’t think I could say that I ever met the man. But he held a place in my affection usually reserved for the closest few.

What made this extraordinary talent so personal for all of us? Known to us through his feats of genius and that uniquely laconic and bashful style– we lauded him. Practically speaking he was as distant to us as Hollywood. But personally, it felt like I could walk in the door and be unsurprised to see him sprawled out on my couch.

52 years old and still decades of cricket to share with him. I am as heavy as a stone on that thought. We loved you so much mate.

I don’t think there is much we can take from this other than pain and sorrow. Certainly not so soon after his loss.

I wouldn’t cheapen the moment by committing myself to a new order of health. No smokes, less beers, more balance in life. Warnie was on a new health kick and its appropriate for all of us – middle-aged blokes in particular - to take a look at our health. But I don’t think that’s a particularly useful tribute to a man whose character was so tied up with the celebration of life in full exuberance.

At Adelaide in 2006 on the last day of the Test with victory seeming impossible, the poms took to the crease at 1/61 with a lead of a hundred. It might not have been a match England was likely to win, but it was surely impossible that they could lose it.

Not so for Warnie. He was always looking to win. Always finding an improbable path to victory. Never conceding it was lost. At the start of play Australia would need to find 9 more wickets, along with an achievable run-chase and enough time left in the day to chase it down. Warnie bowled two sessions unchanged and ball-by-ball he outwilled them. Over by over he worked. First, convincing the English that Australia was a chance and then next, forcing them into acceptance – taking 4-49 in what he and Ponting would call their ‘greatest test’. Anyone interested in re-visiting the legend of the man today, sit back and enjoy the full 7 hours here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5j6_64UMMmY

Millions of Australians mourn today and a great light has gone out. I reckon the best remembrance and certainly the only solace I can find today is to remember that no matter how formidable the task, how hard things sometimes get –nine wickets down, a whole innings behind or a life replete with toil and failure… we can remember the man and all his magic by renewing our faith that anything is possible. That there is still magic in the world. That we can still win this despite the odds.

To live fully, to back ourselves and to believe in that as the constitution of a good life.

To Warnie.