Some people don’t try very hard in life.
Mostly because they are rubbish at things.
But when someone who is very good at something doesn’t try very hard, it really pisses you off.
“If I had their talent…”
That is why a lot of people liked Freddie.
He was freakishly talented, and yet he wouldn’t cruise, he would bowl spells that his body couldn’t handle, time and time again, and he leaves the game because of how much he put in every time he played for his country.
He may not have the record of Jacob Oram, or Jacques Kallis, but he had more balls than the two of them combined.
That doesn’t mean he wasn’t over rated by many, he definitely was.
People looked beyond the fact he only had two really great test years. Two years when his head and body were in the right space.
In those two years he was a monster. He ate up countries in that time. Runs, wickets and scary presence.
4 of his 5 hundreds were in those years, both of his 5 wicket hauls as well.
Batting average of 43, bowling average of 27, and Richter scale of 10.
He was a flaming ball of testosterone during that period.
No one could touch him. But it took a toll, as did captaincy, drinking, and his heavy frame.
He was the sort of guy you wanted in your side, the reason he turned from a fat lazy bastard into FREDDIE was because Bob Simpson once called him a cunt.
That sums him up. He wants to show he is trying to do his best at all times, and when Simpson said he wasn’t, he stepped up so much that he carried his side to an Ashes victory.
What a heart the big fella must have. An industrial strength organ that can push through pain barriers.
That spell in the West Indies when he was clearly injured is one of my all time favourite spells.
Watching it was like watching a broken boxer keep throwing the punches, he still had the heart, but the body wasn’t there. It reminded me of Ali in his fight against Larry Holmes. He knew he had the spirit in him, but his body wouldn’t let the magic come out.
Freddie wouldn’t stop though, and that is when I thought Freddie was gone.
He bowled 15 overs that day, 15 blood stained overs, and took no wickets.
And that is Freddie, all effort, little results.
He is more a folk hero than an actual hero.
But I don’t care, I would pay to watch the big fella hit the wicket any day of the week, if I was picking someone to play for my life, I’d rather have a drunkard with a big heart than a professional cricketer with his eye on the clock.
Test cricket needs guys like him, and today test cricket is a little worse off knowing that he will be leaving it.
Thanks for the brutishness Freddie.
