Dear old Don Bradman received a standing ovation from a capacity crowd at The Oval before his final Test innings. Even the dastardly English players gave him three cheers and a guard of honour. Post-match, there were heartfelt speeches from both captains before the masses threw their pork pie hats in the air and sang, “For He’s A Jolly Good Fellow!” Why was the occasion so meaningful and romantic? Because everyone knew it was the end.
Greg Chappell decided after the fourth Test against Pakistan in 1983-84 that the final Test in Sydney would be his last. He used to enjoy fielding, but now he kept looking at the clock, desperate for stumps. Cam Smith-ish in personality, he did not want an abundance of fanfare, and yet he did not want to be too secretive. He told the selectors, and his closest mates. When word filtered through to a young Greg Matthews, he asked Chappell, “Can I have your boots?” Chappell announced his farewell on the first morning of the Test. He avoided a week of build-up but still gave the match its proper context. Dennis Lillee told him, “You bastard! You got in before me!” And then Lillee and Rod Marsh also said adieu. Chappell benefited from going public. It fuelled him for his unforgettable century. Why was the entire match so meaningful and romantic? Because everyone knew it was the end.
Makybe Diva was Smith-esque in her silence about her future plans ahead of the 2005 Melbourne Cup. The great mare had not said a bloody word about it. She had a whopping 58kg on her back but became the only horse to win the Cup three times. (In all the years since, a mare has failed to get a place, let alone replicate her victories, can you believe that stat?) Greg Miles’ expertly emotional call of the race finished with, “And here comes Maybe Diva! A nation roars for a hero! She’s starting to wind up! Three-hundred left to go … Maybe Diva’s clear … a champion becomes a legend!”
Only at the presentation ceremony did her owner, Tony Santic, reveal she was done, “Effective immediately.” We wished we could have known before and during the race, but I guess she had her reasons for keeping quiet.
Which brings us to Smith. If he’s throwing a dummy by refusing to reveal whether Sunday night’s NRL grand final is his last innings, if he’s trying to deflect attention from inexperienced teammates, if the reason for his ducks and drakes is that trivial, he is doing a massive disservice to his code, to his supporters, to his club, to the NRL and also to himself. The match has a blurred context. The sense of occasion is being muddled because we don’t know what the occasion actually is for one of Australia’s finest ever sportsmen. The Last Ever Match for Cam Smith is a monumental event, equal to Tim Cahill’s last appearance for the Socceroos, the triple treat of the Shane Warne, Glenn McGrath and Justin Langer goodbyes in 2006. The Last Ever Match For Cam Smith warrants salutations and tributes and thanks to a bloke who has won everything there is to win, who’s regarded as the greatest of all time, whose numbers are league’s equivalent of batting at 99.94. But what are we meant to do in all this uncertainty? Sing, “For He’s A Jolly Good Fellow,” just in case? We’re more likely to sit on our hands and fail to do him justice.
If he really doesn’t know, fair enough. Brad Fittler says the whole thing is “a joke.” I think it’s plain awkward. If he finishes the grand final and then says he’s done, there will be the general sense of a rip-off. One of the great joys for devoted sporting fans is to give a rousing send-off to a legend.
But Smith keeps playing a straight bat. During the Dally M Awards, he deadpanned of his eighth grand final week: “Nothing changes from what we’ve done throughout this year to help us have another successful season. It’s important we really enjoy what this season brings. Particularly all the young fellas experiencing this week for the first time. When it all boils down, there’s a game of football to be played and won. We need to do the best we can to prepare well for Sunday.”
If he doesn’t retire, being chaired off Suncorp Stadium last week was the most premature celebration since Warwick Todd got on the beers during the lunch break of his fictional Tests.
“That was a bit of a funny one,” Smith said. “It was more Craig Bellamy than myself. I didn’t really want to be chaired off there at the end. We had a team photo and Craig Bellamy said mate, you’re not going anywhere, just in case this is your last game at Suncorp Stadium. I said no three times but he wouldn’t let me go … I enjoyed the moment but for me … it’s about making sure we have our focus and making sure we have our heads on.”
When Steve Waugh walked out for his last Test innings in 2004, when the SCG was going ballistic, Bill Lawry said in commentary, “For Stephen Waugh and his family, this is a wonderful moment.” He ended up on the shoulders of Matthew Hayden and Justin Langer. An Australian flag was around his shoulders. Magical scenes.
When Waugh passed 50 in that final innings, ferries on Sydney Harbour tooted their horns. How did they know it was warranted? Because the context was clear. No awkwardness, absolute clarity. Another great career was closing. Here’s hoping Smith becomes more of a Chappell than a Makybe Diva. There’s still time. Sunday morning will do.
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