Resilience, humility and commitment to the team: A tribute to Ian Redpath

This week, Australian cricket bid farewell to one of its most selfless and admired sons, Ian Ritchie Redpath.

Born on May 11, 1941, in Geelong, he epitomised everything one could wish for in a cricketer: resilience, humility and an unwavering commitment to the team. Over a remarkable career that spanned the 1960s and ’70s, Ian carved out a legacy that extended beyond the boundary ropes.

Ian Redpath will forever be remembered in Australian cricket.Credit: Getty Images

He made his Test debut on New Year’s Day in 1964, opening the innings alongside Bill Lawry. Together, they built a partnership of 219, with Ian narrowly missing out on a century, scoring 97. That innings was a prelude to a career defined by courage and consistency.

I consider myself lucky to have batted with him in my first Test match innings in Perth against England in December 1970.

I had been picked as the all-rounder in the second Test of the series, the first Test played in Perth at the WACA Ground.

It was my habit not to put the pads on until the batsman before me went out to bat. I hadn’t had the pads on for long when Paul Sheahan managed to run himself out and I made the long walk to the centre to join Ian.

Redpath puts John Snow through the slips to the boundary during Australia’s first innings against England at The Oval in 1968.Credit: Central Press Photos

Having grown up dreaming about playing Test cricket and dreaming of playing in an Ashes Test match, I was in somewhat of a daze as I walked out to bat with our score at 5-107, chasing England’s 397. All I could think of was that I had to be involved in a partnership with Redders to get us closer to the England total.

I apparently took 48 minutes to score my first run. It didn’t seem that long, but my family and friends watching the game on TV said it seemed an awfully long time.

When I looked back on the game, I realised that I hadn’t faced many balls in the first 48 minutes and very few of them against the England spearhead, John Snow. Over the years I quizzed Redders about whether he did that on purpose, or was he just not able to get off strike?

In typical Redders fashion, he never really answered the question, but knowing him from years of playing with him, I have no doubt that he decided to protect the debutant and see if we could get within striking distance of the England score.

It must have been well into that first 48 minutes that the fog I was in began to lift and I realised that there was a massive contest going on in the middle.

As I came out of the haze, I realised that Snowy was really working Redders over with extremely accurate fast bowling and a regular sprinkling of short-pitched deliveries. Snowy had a smooth, economical run-up with a strong shoulder action that allowed him to disguise his bouncers well.

None of his bouncers were wasted as they always zeroed in on your armpit, forcing a defensive shot or an evasive action. Redders was not inclined to hook early in his innings and was wary of hooking Snowy anyway, so he was ducking and weaving the short balls.

Each time Redpath ducked or weaved, he straightened up and mouthed an expletive back down the pitch. Snowy just grinned, turned on his heels and went back and delivered another well-directed missile. It was around this time that I realised that I had to do my share of the heavy lifting if we were to achieve our goal.

The word legend is used too liberally. Redders was a quiet one.

We went on to compile a partnership of 219 with me finally coming into my own to make a century on debut: Red went on to his highest Test score of 171.

There is no doubt that I would not have been able to achieve this without Redders at the other end. He was a man of few words, but his silent example of what was required to make runs at this level was one of the best lessons I ever received.

Redders didn’t drink or smoke, but if we won a Test match he would have a shandy and a cigarette to celebrate. All of us who played for Australia would have died for the baggy green cap, but along with Rod Marsh, Red was one who would have killed for it; so much did he hate losing.

Ian’s contributions weren’t always measured in centuries or averages. He was the embodiment of selflessness. He was an underrated player who made runs when they were needed most. Having started his career as a dasher and averaging in the mid-30s, he became a very reliable opener who prized his wicket and ended his career averaging 43.45 including eight centuries and 31 fifties.

Bob Simpson (left), Peter Burge and Ian Redpath in England in 1964.Credit: Sport & General Press Agency

Ian was a brilliant catcher in the slips or the gully and was a dasher in the field. He was a very good all-round sportsman who played for Geelong Amateur Football Club, where he won Australian honours.

Ian was awarded an MBE in 1975 for his services to cricket and was delighted to have been inducted into the Cricket Hall of Fame in 2023. When I rang him to congratulate him for his elevation to the Hall of Fame he was his usual modest self.

Red became an antique dealer after cricket and a single-figure handicap golfer at his beloved Barwon Heads Golf Club. He was an institution in Geelong and a proud Victorian. A nicer fellow one would not meet.

I caught up with Red earlier this year while I was on a golf tour with a group from Adelaide to the Bellarine Peninsula. On the Wednesday, we played golf at Barwon Heads Golf Club followed by dinner at the club. One of our number suggested that as we had a very keen sporting group who all grew up watching Redders play, I should invite Ian to play with us and join us for dinner.

I knew that he had not been well and that he might not be up to doing both in one day. I issued the invitation and he agreed to do both with alacrity. I had a fabulous day playing with him on his home course, and our group had a wonderful night being regaled with stories of his life and career. It was the highlight of the trip for all of us.

At the end of the night, I thanked him for his generosity over dinner and said that I had really enjoyed the day. Typically, he said, “Not at all, you have no idea of the fillip that it has given me!”

Ian’s life was a masterclass in humility, resilience and quiet excellence. I consider it a privilege to have shared the same dressing room for so many years.

The word legend is used too liberally.

Redders was a quiet one.

RIP.

News, results and expert analysis from the weekend of sport sent every Monday. Sign up for our Sport newsletter.