On the Leighton Smith Podcast and a pivot to remembering Martin Crowe

This week I was on the Leighton Smith podcast and we traversed parenting, education, leadership, Elon Musk and in NZ how we chop down high achievers, free and creative thinkers. We didn’t mention him but Martin Crowe came to mind. I have recently completed a book that is not on education but more a take on a range of life experiences so far. Next step is to look for a publisher (hint, hint … if you are out there).

Below is the chapter I wrote on Martin and the friendship I was privileged to share towards the end of his life. Martin died age 53 – just over six years ago. (The piece is published with Lorraine’s permission).

An Impact of New Zealand’s “Tall Lichen” Syndrome

By strange coincidence two of the most recent books I read during writing this cross referenced each other.

In Martin Crowe’s 1995 book Out on a Limb he notes Tom Scott as a journalist he held in high regard. In Tom Scott’s brilliant memoir Drawn Out he could well have been writing this comment about New Zealand’s treatment of Martin Crowe:

“I have learned over the years that New Zealand doesn’t have a tall poppy syndrome; that’s quite wrong. We have a tall lichen syndrome.”

It was a very great privilege for me in 2014-16 to get to know Marty Crowe. First through a business arrangement, where Marty was providing advice around media interactions, then as a friendship.

From the time I first saw cricket on TV in the late 1970s I loved the game. I played through to senior club level in my teens. It is an intriguing and very difficult game to master. At the highest level the technical and mental skills required to succeed are remarkable and experience counts for so much. A batsman successfully negotiating a ball delivered at 150kmph pretty much defies physiological explanation. I would always have rather faced a charging 120kg front row forward than a psychotic fast bowler.

Martin Crowe was called into the New Zealand team in 1982 at nineteen years of age. He was selected for a One Day International and Test match series against none other than Australia. This was on top of many early selections, in his teen years, into squads and situations when all around him were much older. The series was a disaster for Marty as, at that stage, Dennis Lillie and Jeff Thompson were simply too fast, too aggressive, experienced, and merciless. He was poorly supported by the NZ leadership, including batting out of position, and basically left to fend for himself. I was at the Basin Reserve in Wellington, as a spectator, when Martin batted for the second time for his country. It did not go well – he had been shoved into the no.3 spot and, given that John Wright was out first ball, had to go in and face the fearsome Jeff Thompson with a brand new “cherry”.

The rest, as they say, is history – Martin Crowe went on to be a great cricketer. In terms of the statistics, he played in 77 test matches and 143 One Day Internationals. When he retired, he had the most test runs for New Zealand and had inspired a nation with his leadership and wonderful batting during the 1992 World Cup in Australasia. He is ranked among the world-wide greats and is one of the very few kiwis inducted into the ICC Hall of Fame. His sublime cover drives and the ability to pull a fast bowler over mid-on were evidence enough of greatness.

There is a saying, “never meet your heroes” with the implication that they will always disappoint. When I met with Marty it was just the opposite. As I began to explain the struggles, and stresses, I was dealing with through being newly in the public eye he behaved like a true hero. I had met someone who could listen, consider, empathise, and respond. I had met someone who could sift what mattered from the chaff. I had also met someone who admitted that this was hard earned as he had so often, deeply. and emotionally, taken on board the actions and criticisms of others – including media. These were often unjust and designed to harm. In Marty’s book Raw he emotionally lays out those situations a lot better than I could here and it is best that you read that to fully understand.

One of the very great privileges of my life occurred soon after Marty had been informed that, after a period in remission, his lymphoma had returned. He turned up at our home around noon one day and we drove to One Tree Hill. We wandered across the grass of the Cornwall Park Cricket Club and found a seat on the hill with a plaque dedicating the seat, and a tree, to Marty’s dad – Dave Crowe.

For the next three hours I said very, very, little and Marty talked through many aspects of his life. He spoke of the pressures of being selected very young for many teams, but how difficult it was to say that he wasn’t ready. He spoke of the many occasions when leaders within the New Zealand cricket establishment let him, and those close to him, down and often created deep hurt.

Marty also recognised that as a young person he was far from perfect. My take on that would be – “of course”. That is the definition of being young. Our ideas are partially formed. Our emotions are raw. We make mistakes. We over-reach. Our internal critique is at its peak. That is the very time we need mature mentors who have no ego. People are needed to offer unqualified love and acceptance – not because they see potential greatness and gain (personal or organisational) but because they recognise humanity (“we have this treasure in jars of clay”).

Marty talked about his deep love for his daughter and for Lorraine his wife. He talked about how he and Lorraine supported each other through the stresses and strains. He talked about how they met and how the romance blossomed.

He talked about how in the last years of Dave’s life they had spent a lot of simple time together, playing pool, eating steak, having a beer, and how it had further enhanced the relationship. He credited those simple times for massively improving his outlook post retirement from cricket.

He talked about his cousin Russell Crowe and about, when it became known that Dave Crowe was terminally ill, that Russell booked out the cinema at Mission Bay, Auckland. He then flew from South America with the newly minted film, Gladiator. He played it to an audience – of Dave, family and friends – for the first time and then jumped back on a plane to head back to South America to continue filming another epic.

He talked about some of his great experiences and achievements and many of the people he regarded as very good friends – including the great Grant Fox whom he had grown up alongside from the third form.

He talked about many of the hurts that he had felt for himself and on behalf of others that he considered to have been poorly treated. Marty spoke of the deep care he had for Ross Taylor and Martin Guptill and the respect he had for them as both people and cricketers. I know he adored being there the day when NZ played the world cup final in Australia after a remarkable campaign in 2015. I don’t think it was of major concern to him that the final did not go the way of the kiwis – there had been so many highlights. This was a team that had played in the Marty mold.

He talked about his appalling treatment at the hands of NZ Cricket on many occasions – including ridiculous and drawn-out treatment around a match fixing comment that was both bizarre and easily dismissed. He also talked about how he had learned to let go of the hurt.

He laughed about getting in shape to make a premier club cricket comeback at 50 years of age and having the great misfortune that the first bowler he faced was the very, very fast and aggressive young Lachie Fergusson who was not in the mood to be merciful. Irony plus.

He talked about his love of the game and how he had become reconciled to the issues that he faced as if they were transitions to a better way. I think he would have been so incredibly proud of the NZ team winning the first ever world test championship.

I believe I can truly say that one of his great hopes is that we would become a nation that loved difference. A nation that allowed a young person to grow through their immaturity. A nation that is truly aspirational and does not cut down those who rise above the lichen. Things were bad enough in many parts of Marty’s career through normal media. With the advent of all forms of social media and the battles for sensationalism and clicks I am not yet hopeful things will improve fast. However, there is a push towards the well-being of all athletes and that has potential.

Martin Crowe died way too young at 53 years, 163 days. A truly remarkable person – including his sporting abilities. Someone I loved listening to and someone that many could reflect upon, and honour, to make our nation a little better day by day. I deeply appreciate every moment I spent with him. Our nation would do well to make a deal that every time a Marty comes along that we love them for who they are.

Last year I was wandering through One Tree Hill domain and looking for the Dave Crowe seat. I was deeply concerned (upset really) that it appeared to be missing. Upon checking I was so delighted that, where there had been one chair, there were now two. One for Dave and one for Marty. When I am there, I simply sit and replay the conversations.

To those that Marty spoke of with deep love and respect:

Through these fields of destruction
Baptisms of fire
I’ve witnessed your suffering
As the battle raged high
And though they did hurt me so bad
In the fear and alarm
You did not desert me
My brothers in arms

Dire Straits

alwyn.poole@gmail.com