Stephen Liggins - man of goodness

Tim Ebbeck | February 08, 2023

I read the CricConnect on Steve Liggins with great fondness.

Liggo is one of those people you meet in life who was always true to themselves. And that approach was also the cause of one of the funniest things I’ve seen on a cricket field.

You see, Liggo was a big fast bowler.

You know the type.

They are the ones who are meant to be scary. Who eat raw meat before they bowl. Who love the sound of the ball hitting the batsmen. Who intimidate and like to be feared.

Now, there’s a school of thought out there that fast bowlers are not that smart.

I mean, let’s face it, have you ever seen a fast bowler’s feet? Have you ever seen a fast bowler’s strapping after they have been around for a while? Remember all the stress fractures we read about? Have you ever considered their medical bills? As an aside, I’ve recently been having my creaky old back worked on by Dr Andrew Nealon, a physio well known to cricketers around the world, and a lot of soccer players in the English Premier League (I won’t start on soccer players now as they will distract me from fast bowlers, suffice to say they are also prima donnas). Andrew is constantly telling me about fast bowlers and their backs and knees and mindsets. Good man Dr Nealon (and a former wicket keeper so a really good bloke as well).

Anyway, as I said, fast bowlers have a reputation for not being that smart.

I don’t mean they aren’t smart like a lump of concrete is not smart.

I mean they can’t be that clever – who would do that to themselves? It’s hard work and takes a determined character and a big heart to be a fast bowler. And a love of raw meat. And fast bowlers are not smart like a spin bowler who don’t run that far to bowl; and they are not smart like a batman who can hit boundaries to avoid running, and still look elegant in nicely pressed creams that never get dirty. And certainly not smart like a wicketkeeper – the elite class of cricketers.

But I digress.

Now, every now and again you meet an intellectually very smart fast bowler. Dave Gilbert made his mark in cricket administration – good bloke Dave and smart. And bloody quick, though I did take him over the pegs in a Combined Catholic Colleges versus GPS schools game in 1978. He got angry after that and bowled a lot faster. And Geoff Lawson, an optometrist. And Richard Stobo just completed a PhD in Military History – another very smart man. And my old teammate Michael Coote – a very smart man who could come up with one liners faster than any mainframe computer! And his bowling partner, Peter Vilimaa – a genuine intellectual. Esto used to drink fine red wine, snifters of brandy, and smoke cigars when we were in our 20s. And then went and worked at the ATO before becoming managing partner of his own accounting practice just so he knew all the tax office tricks so he could beat them every time. Smart man Esto.

Liggo was in the Stobo / Vilimaa class of smart. Intellectually smart. Deep thinker. Played chess and backgammon on rainy days rather than cards. Discussed classic literature with Esto whilst Randal Green and Brad Patterson (in their perfectly pressed creams) checked the form guide. I do note that Bradley Harold Patterson did make his first-grade debut for ND’s back in the early 1980s as an opening bowler just after he had recovered from a broken neck, but that’s another story. In any event, Harold is in the Michael Coote super-computer category of fast one-liner smart as well as being a Monty Python tragic and a breeder of good quality NSW Captains.

Liggo was studying law, but unusual in that he also highly ethical. You know what I mean, right? Lawyers and ethics. Like oil and water. They just don’t mix. Apologies to all my lawyer mates (Chris Elder, Mick Hewitt, John and Paul Grimble, etc etc).

But Liggo’s ethics were based on a sincere Christian belief system. If he was a Catholic we would have made him a Canon Lawyer and have him working in the Church on tax avoidance and real estate deals. But since he wasn’t a Catholic he had to make a choice and decided to become an Anglican Minister and serve a flock – I reckon his flock is very lucky.

All of that is background.

Because one other thing that fast bowlers do a lot is SWEAR.

They are notorious for their foul language. I mean most of us have dropped the odd swear word every now and again. Bob Laing at ND’s was a very good batsmen but had a terrible vocabulary – every second word was an F word. A bit like Brian Riley. And fast bowlers are the worst of the lot. That’s why people question their intelligence – their vocabulary seems so limited.

Now, Liggo was unlike other fast bowlers. He never used foul language. I would constantly try to goad him to lose his cool, especially in the changing room, especially in the shower. But like a good minister, he always just smiled at me and forgave me. Gee that was aggravating. He wasn’t even Catholic!

So, there we were playing against Manly at beautiful Manly Oval one year. It was a bit of a flat track and we were fighting for each wicket. Liggo was bowling well. Fast and aggressive (in a nice sort of way).

He bowls a brute of a ball at the batsman who nicked it and it flew through to me and took the catch.

Up we went. Elation and relief that another had fallen.

But the umpire said not out.

Now, I like umpires. They are generally really good guys. And let’s face it, they do a tough job. But I only think that when they are 100% perfect. When they make a mistake I question the gene pool from which they escaped.

And that’s what happened on this occasion. We are all putting on a minor tantrum at this poor decision by the umpire. And I am leading the pack of tantrum throwers. I was going through my thesaurus of terms to describe a bloke in black trousers, white shirt and a NSWCUA tie and the shallow pool of DNA from which he emerged.

But I noticed something.

The rest of my team mates were fuming as well but one was silent. I looked around. Tubby was chewing gum and pretending to be a future Australian Captain by kicking the dirt. Ross Turner was standing bewildered, hands on hips, elegant but cranky. Steve Whitfield had thrown his hat on the turf. Harold Patterson was giving the stare. Randal Green was telling the bowler to bounce the %$&# next ball.

And it was Sleepy’s comment that made me stop. Because I looked at the bowler.

And Liggo was standing in the middle of the pitch, hands on hips, head down, and going red in the face.

I looked at Tubby and said “Is this the day?” Was Liggo about to explode?

We all went quiet. Noise around Manly Oval stopped. The buses stopped. The surf stopped, everything stopped.

Was this day Liggo was going to swear?

We waited.

And waited.

The head rose.

The body turned and faced the umpire.

Here it was. A sledge of biblical proportions about to occur.

And Liggo said:

“GOODNESS GRACIOUS ME UMPIRE!”

Man of goodness, Stephen Liggins.