At the Close of Play. Ricky Ponting
were not to be discussed with anyone outside the room, but I can’t recall that direction being given. I guess I’d tuned out by then.
I was new to debates about player payments. Whatever they wanted was fine by me; whatever they paid me was more than I could have dreamed of when I was pushing lawn mowers for Ian Young at Scotch Oakburn College, and more than any of my mates from school were earning. More than once on that Windies tour I heard team-mates comparing how much we were paid to the huge sums being earned by stars from other sports, how poorly Shield cricketers were being treated and the restrictive nature of the Board’s player contracts, but I hardly stopped to listen.
The Australian Cricketers’ Association was formed after the tour, with Tim May, whose Test career had come to an end, getting the gig as our union boss. Over the next two years Maysie tried to get the idea of payments for Test and Shield players to be tied to the Board’s revenue, but the Board wouldn’t have a bar of that. It wouldn’t even discuss the concept.
You’d think people would have learned their lesson. Back in the early 1970s Bill Lawry and then Ian Chappell had stood up to the Board (in those days the Board was really just one man, Sir Don Bradman). Bill lost the captaincy after demanding a fair go for his exhausted players and when Ian had no more luck in demanding fair compensation Kerry Packer leveraged the situation to split cricket in half by offering proper pay to anyone who joined World Series Cricket.
Here we were fighting the battle again.
Late in the 1997 Ashes tour, between the fifth and sixth Tests, the ACA organised a get-together in a conference room at our hotel at Canterbury. The thing that stands out most clearly for me about that meeting is how stuffy the hotel was because of a lack of air-conditioning. James Erskine, a high-profile sports businessman, was brought on board to negotiate with the ACB on the players’ behalf, and he was introduced to us at the meeting. The Board had been stonewalling, but Erskine was willing to bring not just his negotiating skills but also his considerable financial clout into the battle, on the basis that on top of the commission the ACA would pay him, he could also win a piece of the marketing pie when a settlement was finally reached. If Maysie said hiring Erskine was a good idea, then that seemed like a fair deal to me. The ironic thing about this situation was the same Graham Halbish had left the Board on bad terms and was now working with us. It was a stroke of genius by Tim May. He told us there was plenty of money in the bank and any nonsense the Board told us about it being put away for a rainy day was rubbish, as the revenue streams were pretty good.
When Tim stressed that we had to stick together, it just seemed to be a natural thing to do. You don’t need to tell a working-class Tasmanian how these things work. When he explained that part of this was necessary because of Australia’s industrial laws, saying how we needed to get the Board to recognise that the ACA was entitled to negotiate on the players’ behalf, it went straight over my head. Maysie told us it was inevitable the Board would use the old ‘divide-and-conquer’ trick by painting our tactics in an unfavourable light, saying the ACA was being unreasonable, that a players’ union was bad for the game and by making subtle approaches to individual cricketers who they thought might not be totally committed to our cause.
By the time I returned to Australia a story was out that Denis Rogers, in his capacity as Tasmanian Cricket Association (TCA)chairman (he was also the chairman of the ACB), had told a few guys from the Tassie Shield team that the TCA and the ACB would only negotiate with individual players.
Under these circumstances, you would suspect that Denis might have made contact with me, perhaps to offer me a special deal or to argue that my allegiances should be with him, a fellow Tasmanian, rather than with my Test team-mates. He knew I respected the way he had climbed the ladder to become the first Tasmanian to chair the Board, and how I was grateful for the things he had done for Tasmanian cricket, and I was also aware of the work he had done for the Clarence footy club. But the truth is I don’t recall Denis ever trying to get me to break away from the ACA. I reckon that was simply because he knew me well. One time early in my first-class career, he drove me home from Hobart to Launceston, partly because I needed a lift and partly, I’m sure, because he wanted to get to know me better. He knew I would stick solid with my mates.
Denis has always been good to me and for me. I have made sure, whenever I’ve been back to Tassie, that I’ve always caught up with him and spent time with him, because I enjoy his company, am grateful for the support he has shown me and recognise the remarkable job he has done for Tasmanian sport. Many of the developments we’ve seen at Bellerive Oval, for example, have been because of his efforts. He is a very smart and generous man, and if Denis was guilty of anything during the ACA dispute it was that he was too concerned with protecting the Board’s interests, but that was his job.
During all the public debates that took place in the early part of the 1997–98 season, Denis and his fellow Board members, along with Board CEO Malcolm Speed, regularly painted us players as being greedy and selfish. They even released the amount top players were being paid, knowing the public would think we were greedy. At the same time they never revealed just how much money was in their bank account. Money they earned from marketing our talents. For a while, with the help of a largely compliant cricket media, it appeared they were winning the public relations war, but at the same time their refusal to come to the negotiating table was stiffening our resolve. The turning point came in the third week of November, during the second Test against New Zealand in Perth, when word got out that a player strike was a real possibility unless the Board got fair dinkum about talking to the ACA. By this time, Channel Nine, Australian cricket’s TV network, had become concerned that the players might even be planning to form a rebel competition, but there was nothing in that scuttlebutt and the players who worked for Nine — Tubby, Warnie, Tugga and Heals — were able to set the TV bosses straight. Further, Warnie was allowed to go on Nine’s coverage of the Test the next day to explain the ACA’s position, and he did it so well there was immediately a massive change in the public’s perception of who was right and who was not.
At the same time, however, Tubby sat down with Denis and the pair came up with a possible compromise, a surprise development because by working one-on-one with the Board our captain was going against the wishes of the ACA. Thinking about it now I have no problem with Tubby making that move, because when the players are dealing with the Board, the captain should always have the right to talk to the Board chairman. At the time, though, it did cause some angst within our group.
After stumps on day two Tubby presented the playing group with the results of his meeting with Denis. Our reaction was lukewarm at best. There is no doubt our skipper was motivated solely by his desire to see the impasse solved and as always he was persuasive in his arguments, but by this stage the rest of us were determined to stick with Maysie and see the battle through. Tubby went back to Denis the following morning and then returned with yet another proposal that the two of them hoped would do the trick, but our determination was stronger than ever and when Matthew Elliott asked why we were now negotiating in this way rather than via the ACA it was decided to stop the dilly-dallying, and to put things to a ballot.
Twelve pieces of paper were handed out, with each of us asked to write down ‘yes’ for strike or ‘no’ for no strike. A few ODIs in December had been targeted. Quickly, each of the voting slips was placed in a baggy green cap (the symbolism was lost on no one), and Blewey was given the job of returning officer. The result was dramatically decisive: 11 to 1. The boys were serious. We were going to strike.
The irony was that when Tugga rang Maysie to tell him of our decision, the reply was succinct: ‘Don’t do it! The momentum is swinging our way.’ I have no idea what clinched the deal, but my guess is that the powerbrokers at Nine asked the Board to fix the impasse. Or maybe the administrators saw that public opinion was swinging our way. Or was it because Tubby had been rebuffed? Perhaps commonsense prevailed. Whatever the reason, we were relieved, nobody really wanted to strike.
In the following few days, the ACA announced it was postponing the threat of strike action and the Board finally decided to talk to the ACA. This proved to be the starting point for some spirited but constructive negotiations. It would be many months before the first memorandum of understanding between the Board and the ACA was agreed to, one which in part gave players 20 per cent of the first $60 million