How CJ the DJ became the Hurricanes’ shining Jewell

Four years ago, Caleb Jewell walked out to bat against Glenorchy as a 17 year old Guilford Young student; one who had been identified as a future Australian player.

Four years ago, Caleb Jewell walked out to bat against Glenorchy as a 17-year-old Guilford Young student; one who had been identified as a future Australian player.

Waiting for his arrival to the crease, at the top of his mark, was Luke Butterworth. You know him to be the red-ball wizard who produced what he wanted, when he wanted at Sheffield Shield level. And in grade cricket, at KGV, he was Fred Spofforth reincarnate.

The score was two-for-even-less. The Dees held a considerable first-innings lead, so there was no reason for Jewell to stroll to the crease with his shoulder slumped, his bat dragging along the ground and a world of insecurities on the table for the savages of Pie Park to feast on.

From the moment Jewell meekly took guard, it was inevitable that Butterworth would get his third scalp of the innings to continue his dominance of the day.

Away, away then in: Jewell got the Butterworth special.

Later that week, a surprising video of Caleb popped up on my Facebook feed. It was of him pretending to be a DJ in his family home. Pans set out on an island kitchen bench to represent spinning vinyl, headphones placed in the GO zone (left ear on, right off, providing that DJ lean), then as CJ the DJ dropped the beat, his hands raised in the air as if to push the ceiling up while he jumped to the beat of whatever young-person music he was spinning through the pans.

I was shocked.

This was not the same kid I saw trudge on and off KGV only days earlier.

How could a young man capable of exuding such confidence appear to be an insecure mess in an environment for which he was immensely talented?

Caleb Jewell bats during the Big Bash League match between the Hobart Hurricanes and the Brisbane Heat at Blundstone Arena in Hobart on January 29. Picture: AAP

Age? 17. Agreed, a huge part of the answer. It had been difficult for shield players to exude confidence knowing that Fred Spofforth was about to pick their game apart with elite skills and years of experience. But it’s all that was holding CJ back from tapping into his own elite-level skill. He needed to be CJ the DJ with bat in hand.

So, I hunted CJ, to relay my observation of the DJ. I sipped a latte, he had OJ ... What I learnt from that conversation was that Caleb was a young man desperately short on cricket confidence; struggling with the expectation placed on him having being fawned over as a batting prodigy for several years. It’s why a year later when Dan Marsh publicly questioned his mental application to the game at first-class level, I came to his defence with some words in this paper.

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What upset me most at that time is that after spending an hour chatting with Caleb, it was obvious he would need to be nurtured and guided with great care to untap his very best.

Confidence would be the key. How do we get him playing without fear of failure? How do we get him believing what we see? The batting prodigy. How do we get CJ to be the DJ?

For the coaching staff of the time to not understand this meant they hadn’t taken the time to understand.

But hey, that’s just a longstanding cricket thing and perhaps not even their fault.

All of this is why I am giddy with excitement about the progression of Caleb Jewell as the No.3 batsman the Hurricanes needed — 123 runs off 98 balls. A fifty. Fourteen fours and two sixes.

But perhaps more important than any of those runs and Canes results is that we are now seeing CJ the DJ — a young man happy and confident with his place in the world.