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Q: Johnny Phillips was a fine leg-spin bowler for the Northern District cricket club and was unlucky not to have been awarded a state cap. Apart from his bowling, Johnny was also noted for his brilliant fielding and for his ability to drink copious quantities of the amber fluid at the end of each game.
On one occasion Johnny was bowling against Petersham at Waitara Oval and the umpire at the bowler’s end was Fred Tilley. Fred, who had officiated around the Sydney grade scene for many years, was an umpire well respected by the players. Unlike some of his colleagues, Fred was a pleasant, smiling man who enjoyed the conviviality and camaraderie after the game as much as he enjoyed the game itself. When it came to the drinking of beer, I hesitate to say that Fred Tilley was in the class of Johnny Phillips but on the other hand, it must be admitted that fred had been doing it longer.
In this particular game, Petersham’s best batsman, Noel Hughes, had been having difficulty picking Johnny’s “wrong-un” and eventually, he nicked one and was comfortably caught behind by the keeper. There was a screaming appeal from everyone.
“Not out, “said Tilley. Then the following conversation ensued:
Phillips: What did you say?
Tilley: I said “not out”
Phillips: (Expletive) that was the worst (expletive) decision I’ve ever seen.
Tilley: You’re entitled to your opinion, Johnny, but the decision remains not out
Phillips: I knew you were getting old Fred but I dint realise you were going (expletive) blind as well.
Tilley: Could be, Johnny, because I didn’t see the bat touch the ball.
Phillips: Well surely you heard the (expletive) snick. Gee, they (expletive) heard it in Hornsby (expletive) shopping centre.
Tilley: I’m getting the feeling that you’re angry with me Johnny. Is that correct?
Phillips: Of course I’m (expletive) angry with you, you blind old (expletive).
Tilley: Then I suppose this means I won’t be able to buy you a beer after the game?
(Phillips looked down the wicket at the batsman, then looked back at the umpire and grinned.)
Phillips: You know Fred, come to think about it, I’ve seen worse decisions. After all, you’re doing the best you can, aren’t you
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Q: In November 18 2011, a group of elderly NSW cricketers gathered for lunch to reminisce, as they do every year. It was here that they heard of the passing of Ray ''Flocko'' Flockton, one of NSW cricket's best loved characters.
Flocko had been ill for some time so the news was not unexpected, yet there was no noticeable sadness in the group - only thankfulness that Flocko had come into their lives. A toast was raised and Flocko stories flowed, as did the drinks, for the rest of the afternoon.
Apart from cricket, Flockton was one of Sydney's most recognisable people, for in his working life he was a traffic cop and did point duty on some of the city's most difficult corners. For years, Monday evenings would find Flocko directing traffic outside Rushcutters Bay Stadium for ''fight night''. He knew them all, from the fighters to the pensioners in the bleachers, and even the drivers that he had held up would wave as they went by.
https://www.cricconnect.com/profile/542/neil-marks/blog/548/ray-flocko-flockton-cricketing-wag-was-a-team-favourite
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Q: Ernie Toshack still possessed a humorous glint in his eye but he was greyer and thinner than his playing days. Days, long past, when he was part of a golden era of cricket.
“G’day, young “Marksy,”he grinned. “Tosh” used the word “young” only to distinguish me from my father with whom he had played before the war. Nevertheless, it’s nice to have the adjective prefix my name, whatever the reason. We talked for a while about the old days, of my father and of mutual friends. Then he made a request.
“Young Marksy, I have never met Sir Garfield Sobers and I was hoping you’d be kind enough to introduce me.”
“Don’t go away, mate,” I said and walked back to the main table where Sobers was busy signing autographs. Between signatures I asked him if he would mind coming across to meet an old friend of mine. Gary Sobers is an easy going sort of man and in a few moments he wandered over to where Toshack and I were talking.
“Gary Sobers, I’d like you to meet Ernie Toshack. Ernie this is Gary Sobers.
https://www.cricconnect.com/profile/542/neil-marks/blog/503/a-couple-of-southpaws
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Q: A special tale about Australian Cricketer Archie Jackson and the towel
In the late 1920s the press and public were clamouring for a policy of youth in the selection of the New South Wales cricket team. The blues had won the Sheffield Shield only once in 5 years. This was not good enough for the cricket fans of the Waratah state, who were conditioned to winning. The great era, which had begun in the postwar years were drawing to a close, and legends, such as Mailey, Gregory and Andrew were no longer the dominant force they’d once been. So onto the greensward of the SCG, determined to make it their own strode players like Archie Jackson, Don Bradman and my father Alec (Äcka’) Marks – mere teenagers who had barely begun to shave.
https://www.cricconnect.com/profile/542/neil-marks/blog/502/a-special-tale-about-australian-cricketer-archie-jackson-and-the-towel
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Q: Wesley College in Perth is a lovely school, with great facilities.
In March 1992 I was manager of the NSW team to play WA in the Sheffield Shield Final. The trip was 10 days and the game was one of the best games ever played at the W.A.C.A. The fortunes of both teams flowed until finally the home team won the shield.
Soon after our arrival in Perth, we received a visit from a former Blues player, John Rogers, who was a teacher at Wesley College and a good friend. John offered the NSW team the use of the school’s ground and net facilities.
The team arrived at the school and we were shown the change rooms. As I walked into the room I saw a familiar face,eadmaster, Rod Keffotrd, whom I had known when he was teaching at Barker College in Sydney. We greeted each other, I thanked his for his hospitality and asked if we could reciprocate in any way.
“Well, we have a school assembly in half an hour, which Geoff Lawson has consented to address and I was hoping you would be able to attend yourself and, if possible, arrange for a couple of other players to join you, “Rod responded.
Like all good headmasters, Kefford never misses out on a chance to obtain a “quid pro quo”.
Half an hour later, “Henry” Lawson, the brothers Waugh, Mike Whitney and myself walked up onto the stage at the Wesley College school assembly. Lawson addressed the boys in his usual thoughtful and eloquent manner, the boys loved it.
When the assembly finished, Rod Kefford and John Rogers took us on a guided tour of the school. We walked around and then, by popular request, we ended our sojourn in one of the school bathrooms.
“Well, what do you think of Wesley?” asked Rod Kefford.
“It is a most impressive school Rod, you must be very proud, “I said. Three of the others endorsed my sentiments.
“Well, I don’t think much of it!”
Everyone turned to look at Mike Whitney.
“I beg your pardon?” said Kefford.
“It’s nothing like my old school, South Sydney Boy’s High,” replied Whitney.
I remember exchanging glances with Steve Waugh; this attitude was so out of character for Whit, who could lay claim to being Australia sport’s nicest man.
“No, this is not a real school – not like South Sydney Boys,” Whit reiterated.
Kelford asked, “Why is that?”
Whitney began to laugh. “Call yourselves a school, what a load of crap. Just look at this bathroom – there is no graffiti on the walls and not one cigarette but in the urinals.”
Then Whit winked at Rod, slapped him on the shoulder and walked out to practice
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