Cricket 2022: Adam Gilchrist on how joyous reflection of Warnie, Marsh and Roy helps ease pain

Adam Gilchrist says he still has difficulty getting his head around losing three of his great mates as he remembers each of them and how they shaped his life.

When Australian cricket’s heart was ripped apart by the deaths of Rod Marsh, Shane Warne and Andrew Symonds, Adam Gilchrist lost three of his best mates in this world. With sadness, perspective, honesty and humour, Gilchrist opens up in an exclusive interview on how he’s still learning to cope with their shockingly quick dismissals.

Thanks for talking about all this with us. Ready?

I’ll preface this by saying I’m just one person impacted by the tragic things that have happened. This is just my personal experience of it all. I’m honoured to talk about them to you but it’s not about me.

In saying that, I am finding that I’m sharing their stories and memories more and more with our colleagues and the broader community and there’s solace in that.

What did Rod mean to you?

He was my childhood hero. He was who I wanted to be. Who I aspired to be. I can’t put it any more bluntly than that. I broke my nose the first time I ever wicketkept as a kid and in hospital that night, a nurse, a quick-thinking nurse, to ease my sorrows, said the same thing happened to Rod Marsh. I thought, ‘This is fate. I’m on my way to being like Rod Marsh.’ That was how I viewed it.

The footnote to that is when I first met Rod, I told him the story, and he said he’d never broken his nose.

Well done to that nurse. She was a good and caring nurse, letting an upset kid think it was all part of his dream.

And then?

I was very fortunate to get to know Rod and have him as head coach at the cricket academy. His first year was my intake year. That felt like Christmas every day and afterwards, I very much stayed in close contact with him.

He became a very strong guiding influence on my career. He was someone I’d go back to and talk to and get updates from, as Ian Healy was later on.

Once I’d gotten to the level of playing for Australia, Heals became a checkpoint for me in a technical sense but Rod was vitally important for career advice.

Shane Warne (left) and Adam Gilchrist (right) congratulate teammate Andrew Symonds for taking a catch to dismiss South Africa's batsman Nicky Boje in 2006.

Between his heart attack on February 22 and when he died on March 4, what did you do?

I didn’t go chasing fine details on it. Personally, I was sitting back, fingers crossed, trying to be optimistic, hoping beyond hope he’d come out of his coma. Steve Crawley at Fox Sports asked me to do a voiceover on a tribute to Rod, just in case the worst scenario turned up.

That was on the Thursday. Then at 6am the next morning, I was just getting a bit of exercise in the little gym we’ve got in the garage here at home. I was alerted by (Courier-Mail cricket writer) Crash Craddock. It was Crash who rang and let me know Rod had passed.

There’s nothing more final, is there? Nothing sadder than that news. I can still feel it now.

How does it feel? Then and now?

Goosebumps all over my body, even just thinking about it again here. It was just the most complete rush of sadness. The sense of loss to so many people. Clearly and not in any order of priority, you think of the family.

You think of the cricketing world, knowing what a character he was. Then selfishly and self-indulgently, it comes back to yourself. I thought about what an impact he had on my life. Not just my cricketing life, but by virtue of the support and advice he gave, he helped shape where my entire life went. There was such a big sense of loss because I felt such a strong sense of connection to him. My biggest feeling was, ‘He’s the reason I am who I am today.’

Adam Gilchrist with his long-time mentor Rod Marsh during the 2005 Ashes series. Picture: Phil Hillyard

How so?

I know that’s a strong statement but his influence was that real on me. I remember ringing my Dad and Mum straight after I’d shared the news with my wife, Mel. I just had this sense of really needing to talk to Dad.

Obviously his influence was huge on my entire life and the cricketing journey — I just felt so sad that I needed to hear my parents’ voices. In hindsight, I’d probably been ignoring the possibility it could happen.

Deep down when someone is in a coma like that, when minimal news is coming out after a heart attack like that, it’s less likely they’re going to come out with a clean bill of health.

That doesn’t ease the sorrow, though. It was shock and it was sadness like I’d rarely if ever felt before.

Throughout that day you’re swapping messages with a lot of people. Little did we know it was the beginning of an extraordinary period of time — a day when a lot of people wanted and needed to be in touch with each other.

Talk us through March 4.

Had a lunch and a couple of quick beers with a number of WA-based guys who had felt Rod’s influence through friendship, as teammates or from being coached by him. We had a very low-key send-off. Nothing too big at all.

As a backdrop, I was trying to organise a weekend of festivities for Mel. It was my wife’s 50th birthday. I took it pretty easy in the afternoon and evening. Managed to do the duties on one of the smaller gatherings we’d organised for Mel and her girlfriends. By the end of that day, the same night, I was receiving the news from my 15-year-old son about Warnie.

Andrew Symonds’s memorial service was a terribly sad occasion. Picture: Evan Morgan

A memory of Rod?

My tail was wagging a little bit too eagerly when I first met him in Adelaide.

It was the start of the year at the academy and he had us all over for a barbecue at his house. I just couldn’t believe we were in Rod Marsh’s house. Eating his food. Sharing his home and drinking beer with him.

Clearly, I couldn’t contain my excitement because every time he had one beer, I probably had two. Living the dream, which culminated in me basically throwing up all over his living room. I got dragged away and woke up in the spare room. I missed an early swimming session.

He dragged me there a bit later. At which point he didn’t rant or rave, but he taught me two things. One, alcohol and chlorine don’t mix too well, either. And secondly, he’d never judge anyone on what they did the night before a commitment — but you had to turn up and be ready to go and be presentable when that commitment was on.

Best advice from him?

Life-changing. It came after the academy. I’d gone back to NSW. I was included in the state squad as back-up ‘keeper to Phil Emery. I hit a point in my journey there where I thought, right, what I have to do is give up ‘keeping and focus on my batting. Try to break in as a batter. I um’d and ah’d about it an eventually rang Rod. He basically told me I was a fool. He told me don’t even think about it. Knuckle down and work even harder and maybe have a look around at other options or otherwise. That was the time WA approached me and once they did, I knew that was the journey I should pursue. I’m still living in Perth.

Shane Warne was always next to Adam Gilchrist when he welcomed viewers to the start of the day’s play on Fox Cricket. Picture: Getty Images

Your son tells you about Warnie?

I was downstairs at home. It was about nine-thirty that night. I was just sitting back, I think I had a glass of red, winding right down and reflecting on Rod. Chatting through that with Mel.

Then our son Archie came down, sobbing. He couldn’t get his words out. As a dad I was fearful, of course. What’s happened? Just take a deep breath, it can’t be that bad, and suddenly he looked up at me and said, ‘Warnie’s dead.’ Like so many people I thought, hang on. That’s not right. Before he even had time to get the next word out, my phone rang and it was Matt Weiss, our executive producer at Fox Cricket.

As soon as I saw his name, ringing me at nine-thirty or ten o’clock at night, I knew something wasn’t right. I answered his call. He confirmed that what was being released was real. You know, I think of Archie being so upset. Initially it caught me by surprise but it became symbolic to me.

Symbolic of what?

Of how upset everyone was. Our daughter was having a sleepover at a friend’s house. She rang, so upset too, asking if I could go over and pick her up. Our eldest boy was out with a few mates and he came straight home. All of it just seemed to symbolise to me how the shocking news about this herculean character was affecting people. He just had this amazing ability to connect with the most common person out there.

He could garner interest from royalty or prime ministers or the highest levels of society but he could engage with any boy or girl who simply wanted to know how to grip a cricket ball. He was the best at his chosen art, and leg-spin is the hardest skill to master in cricket. But he just had so much charisma.

Whether people had met Warnie or not, everyone felt like they knew a little bit about him. Somehow, everyone felt like they had a personal connection to him. I’m still finding that now.

Example?

I shot a TV commercial a couple of days ago. Just about everyone on the set said they had worked with either Andrews Symonds or Warnie. They all had their story. They all wanted to tell it and share it. I think that’s beautiful. That’s been a really nice part of this whole grieving process.

Because it’s been so public and so high-profile — you might think it makes it harder but I think it’s been a really positive part. The way everyone has embraced it and shared their own stories. It’s been quite therapeutic and even talking like this, it helps you deal with it. I’ve come to see that every story we share, it helps. And if nothing else, it keeps their spirits and legend and memories alive.

What was Warnie like?

He was like so many tens of thousands of blokes and now women who roll out every weekend to play. The club cricketers who work all week then get to the weekend and revel in the joy of just being with their teammates again, Warnie was like that. Regaling you with stories of the week, whether they be work-related or socially, and in amongst that trying to ply your trade and have a crack and hopefully get a win.

At the end of a game, you sit down and just bask at the joy of being in a team. Warnie was doing what every club cricketer does every weekend — but he forgot the whole world was watching. So when he told his stories, or when he found himself in a spot of bother, as opposed to the club cricketer he was on the front page of every newspaper in the country. But that was his mentality.

He had the psyche of your club cricketer … that’s made him so relatable to the broader community.

Take us into the Australian dressing room with Warnie.

There was always a bit of a joke that you couldn’t take Warnie on. By that I mean, you couldn’t take the piss out of him because he could easily turn on you a bit. He’d get a bit narky and be a bit quiet to you for a while. Working with him and observing him for those last four years at Fox Cricket, he’d really learned to laugh at himself and take the mickey out of himself.

Potentially when we were playing, there was always a little bit of uncertainty around that. Because he was so high-status, not many tried. Probably ironically, the only one who did it, and did it with ease, and without any admonishment from Warnie, was Roy (Symonds). I ended up seeing Warnie find a really nice perspective on everything, including having some fun at his own expense. Or having someone take the mickey out of him and Warnie just laughing along with it. That was nice to see but it saddens me, too. Who knows where he might have ended up? Who knows where life might have taken him?

He had his run-ins, of course?

I don’t think anyone pretends to think that anyone else is perfect. I’m sure there’s people out there who would have been on the receiving end of some of his commentary and opinions who would have been very much in disagreement with him and annoyed at him. They would have wondered why he went so long and so hard about them but that was just part of his makeup. Being at close quarters with him a lot more in those last four years, even though I’d played alongside him for 10 or 12 years, I did see a change in his perspective. Which was nice.

Adam Gilchrist with Laura Symonds after the memorial service for Andrew Symonds. Picture: Evan Morgan

Was it rocky between you two in the Australian team?

It was never as rocky as people think. Not from my perspective. But there was certainly a time when I first got into the Australian team, there was a little bit of tension there.

I think Warnie felt like Darren Berry might be the guy who got the nod. And I was carrying some uncertainty about what he thought of me from a Sheffield Shield game we played against each other. He really gave me a good baking. I addressed it with him, as I tended to do if I had an issue with anyone or if I thought there might be an issue. Warnie strongly confirmed to me that it was purely just a tactic to put me off in that particular Shield game. Nothing premeditated or heartfelt.

Later in your Test careers?

Yes, me and Warney locked horns on a couple of things. When we disagreed on a few things or the way we went about a few things. But I never felt like I was the only player in the team who wasn’t in perfect alignment with Shane Warne. The boldness of his opinion and his character meant a number of guys at different times maybe felt on the outer a little bit. But then before you knew it, and this was Warnie’s nature, he made you feel very much part of the inner sanctum. It was always a bit of a rollercoaster alongside Warnie.

That was always going to be the case when he had such a high public profile and status. He operated in different circles. Sometimes you felt like you were on that journey with him. Other times you felt slightly on the outer but it was never to the point where I felt isolated or that it was anything one-on-one personally. And then as I say, when I had the pleasure of a four-year working relationship with Warnie, it was truly great.

Rod Marsh played an influential role in the development of Australian cricketers as head coach of Australian Institute of Sport Academy

How will it feel to commentate without him this summer?

Very weird. Every morning of a Test match for the last four years, I’ve welcomed people to the coverage of Fox Cricket and sitting right alongside me, on my left shoulder, has been Warnie. That’ll be a different feeling. Whoever’s sitting next there this summer will be rightfully there, but I’ll miss him. It was beautiful working with him. If there was ever any silence or you needed discussion to fill some time, you just asked Warnie a question and away he would go.

Rod and Warnie both die on March 5. And then two months later, Roy passes away.

That was another early-morning phone call. Any time the phone rings just before 5am, you know it’s something big. It was Darren Lehmann who let me know. That did seem truly surreal.

Ryan Campbell, another really close mate of all of us, had a heart attack and been within an inch of his life ending as well. Far out. It was like an unimaginably bad dream. The first five months or so of this year felt like it was lived with a constant haziness in all our minds. Confusing. Sad.

At least the one positive was that Cambo did make it out the other side. With Roy it just felt like, how can this be happening again? Oh, jeez. It’s still hard to believe or fathom. By the time all the celebrations of Warnie’s life had finished, culminating in the big one at the MCG, who do I end up having an all-nighter with, basically going straight from the pub to the aeroplane with? It was Andrew Symonds.

Adam Gilchrist speaking at the memorial service for Andrew Symonds in Townsville. Picture: Evan Morgan

Tell us about Roy.

I don’t know how this will read in black and white, and we don’t compare any of them, but of course Warney was Hollywood. He’s got Robbie Williams, a global rock star, paying tribute to him. Elton John did the same in a concert. That’s the level of fame Warnie was at. Roy just felt like one of us.

More of a foot soldier who was there to do whatever it took to win and just be a teammate. That’s not saying one is better than any other and it’s not denigrating where Roy was or where Warnie was, but losing Roy really was an arrow through the heart for a lot of people.

Why?

Because of his nature. Because of his beautifully simple outlook on life. Because he was such a beautiful, beautiful friend. He was fun. Real fun. He had such a contagious personality and a way of making an environment really enjoyable to be in. He had the proper country drawl and no real filter when he spoke, which makes for great entertainment.

It’s dangerous to speak like that but it wasn’t a consideration for Roy. He just spoke openly and honestly and from the heart. People who are like that, it can be really easy to take the mickey out of them. We all had a lot of humour at Roy’s expense but by a mile, he was the king of taking the piss out of somebody else. That can easily spiral to become a little bit nasty but my recollection is that it never really led to that, either with us enjoying a Roy faux pas or him giving as good as he got.

He had great humour and his timing was always amazing. He just relaxed an environment and was a really, really loyal friend.

I didn’t actually realise how much you blokes loved him until he was gone.

I felt sad for him and the irony of how his Australian career ended. To this day, I wouldn’t be able to tell you, did he get dropped? Did he retire? What were the discussions? To an outside observer — I’d already finished playing — the irony was the sense that he wasn’t a team player.

That he wasn’t doing the team thing. Ask Ricky (Ponting). Ask anyone that played alongside Roy, who do you want in your team? He’s first. He was the type of teammate you wanted. No matter what the format was or where it was, you just valued that sort of dedication and commitment and loyalty as a teammate.

It was so ironic to me that his career finished with almost accusation against him. And even more ironic that was giving evidence that he wasn’t committed to the team.

Rod Marsh's wife Ros with Adam Gilchrist. Picture: Emma Brasier.

So, what happened?

I think what was missing in his life at that point was the teammates who were previously always on watch with him.

Always making sure that if he did get out of line, just a little clip to get him back and focused. I think he felt there was a void there and he couldn’t curtail that feeling when he needed to. It was a shame for it to end like that but in the reactions from everyone since he died, I think the evidence is there about closely he was held as a teammate and mate. And still is.

Was the all-nighter after Warnie’s service the last time you saw Roy?

Yep. He was really shaken by Warnie’s passing. Warnie had really started to spend some time with him and help him through some challenging personal situations. Warnie was looking to get him involved in some coaching over at the London Spirit. It really shook Roy about … and then his own funeral was possibly the saddest thing I have ever seen. Just the pure sorrow.

I’ve never seen a congregation of people so upset but it was the most beautiful possible send-off you could ever possibly hope for after such a tragic loss.

He’d found a nice commentary niche in T20?

I don’t think I’m telling stories out of school here. Crawls wouldn’t mind me saying this. On the passing of Warnie, not that we were immediately going OK, let’s start to get our team together, but in time I think there was a feeling that Roy might have been the one to be introduced into Test commentary.

What everyone said about Roy’s commentary was wow, he’s a joker and court jester, but gee he has some good analysis. He always had that ability to read a game and the players.

In team meetings for Australia, things would be getting all complicated. Roy would start speaking and just spell it out so straightforward. Always good strategy. There was going to be an opportunity for him there and I think people would have really loved to see that side of him develop. That was just one small part of the sadness of him leaving us. With Warnie as well as Roy, there’s going to be flashbacks all summer.

How so?

There will be tough moments that jump out and remind you of them. But there will be some really special times to reflect, too. At the SCG a few weeks ago, Mark Howard and I walked into the back area of the commentary box. The back room.

It was the first time we’d been in there since these guys passed. That little room was where Warnie held court. That’s where he was really centre stage. If you thought he was cranking it up on air, you should have seen him in that back room. First thing he’d do after a stint on air was walk out the back and have a durrie.

Then he’d come back in, sit down and go. He had us in the palm of his hand and it was hilarious. He’d talk about any topic in the world. That’s where he was the showman to us.

On the other side of that, it was also the room where he caught up on some zeds he might have missed the night before. To the point where one day the Prime Minister – I’m pretty sure it was Scott Morrison – came in the room to say g’day as PMs tend to do at the Sydney Test. Everyone was looking for Warnie and his feet were sticking out from under the table. He was having a kip.

How often do you think about them?

Most days, to be honest. Seriously. It’s amazing how often they come to mind. Like so many, I still find it really hard to believe it happened. Those three guys were in the lives of so many in some capacity.

It’s so wide-reaching. Strangely enough, after Roy’s funeral, I ended up back in his shed at his place in Townsville with Jimmy Maher, who read the most amazing eulogy at Roy’s funeral, and his son, two other guys who knew Roy well … and Paul Green.

Crikey.

We were playing darts. We’ve got Roy’s country music on. We’re in amongst his boats and his fishing gear and his dogs. His loyal dogs are sitting there and it’s just the most surreal way to finish the most emotional day that I’ve had for a long time.

And hopefully don’t have for another long time. We were afforded the opportunity to be able to close it out like that and reflect and enjoy his spirit. And then the tragedy of Greenie turns up not long after.”

Adam Gilchrist at a Fox Cricket launch in 2019 with fellow commentators Andrew Symonds and Shane Warne. Picture: Toby Zerna

Rod. Warnie. Roy. Three of your great great mates are gone. Got your head around it yet?

It’s still hard to piece it all together and work out why. Whenever I find myself in that mindset, I’m pretty quick to think well, unfortunately we can’t change anything.

Like I’ve said already, as long as we keep their spirit and their legend and their beautiful personalities alive, I think that’s the best thing we can do. All this loss has proven to be an opportunity where a lot of us are wanting to get together or touch base with each other more.

All those cliches where we tell our old mates, ‘We’ve got to do this more!’ We’re actually seeing it happen a bit more now, such has been the sense of grief in such a condensed period for so many guys. If that’s a positive legacy from these fellas, well isn’t that nice?”