With perspiration pouring from his forehead and a shirt lathered in deodorant and sweat, he walks off the ground, bat in hand and with a face more tanned than Julio Iglesias. One would expect a man with clothes this wet to have just scored 150 in Madras in 40-degree heat. But no, its pre-season at NSW cricket, mid-winter and the man is Steve Stumpa Rixon, the COACH.
Stumpa is the only person I have ever met that could sweat in the shower. A product of his commitment to practice as both a player and a coach. In my opinion, the greatest coach I ever played under. Direct, focused, well planned and a panache for finding key moments in any match and rallying the troops to execute on said opportunity.
I will never forget the day he pulled me aside as a senior player and asked me to room with Rodney ‘Horse’ Davidson’. Horse was a talented left-hander with interesting social skills. Stumpa thought I could bring the best out of him and the team would be rewarded as Horse continued to pile on the runs. The combination had immediate success as he started to make runs consistently, the only issue being is I found my new roommate using my toothbrush one morning. “For .... sake Horse, that’s my toothbrush.” “Sorry mate, I forgot mine,” Horse said.
“Stumpa, I can’t do this mate,” Stumpa replied with his typical laugh followed by a deadpan response. “I'll buy you a new one, we need his runs!”
That evening we had a team dinner. Rodney ‘Horse’ Davidson settled right next to Stumpa at the head of the table with a smile from ear to ear and his clean fangs shining. Those who have dined with Stumpa know he will not start his meal until everyone has received theirs. I have seen him wait for half an hour on one occasion. Even when asked to start by others, he will refuse. As Murphy’s law would suggest, Stumpa’s meal arrived that night before the rest of the team. He sat patiently and only occasionally looking down lovingly at his 400g ribeye on the bone, chips and pepper sauce. To my amazement, my little left-hander ‘Protege of Etiquette’ Rodney started to steal a few chips from Stumpa's plate while waiting for his meal to arrive.
After the third chip was about to be removed, Stumpa picked up his fork and stabbed our opening bat in the back of his hand. “Ouch,” Horse screamed as his hand quickly moved off Stumpa’s plate. “Don’t touch my food” our coach said with sweat starting to bead on his furrowed brow.
Come on Stumpa I’ll buy you some new chips. We need his runs!