I have my own personal relationship with Phillip Hughes. It’s probably different from yours.
I never met him in person, yet know him to be humble.
I never interviewed him on the phone, yet know how hard he worked on his game.
I am not related to him, yet he is my little brother. He will keep fighting and battling to get what he wants.
Phillip was not just a batsman. He was a run maker. A rare talent.
Batsmen follow the book. Technically sound. Look graceful.
Phillip was none of those.
He had his own way. The back foot stepping towards leg stump. The flash outside off.
Four.
Runs.
His stats are on the public record. The typical cricket fan will use these to judge him. But they tell a partial story. A half finished book. One you stop reading just before you get to the really good chapters.
There should be stats for fighting spirit, courage, work ethic and respect.
These would show Phillip as one of the greats.
I am off to Brisbane on Thursday to watch the first ball of the 1st Test of the summer. I am entertaining clients.
Phil was meant to be there. Him batting. Me drinking. Eating. Laughing.
Enjoying Phillip down on one knee, playing shots in a way that others can’t. A method that they don’t teach in coaching clinics.
Well little brother, how am I meant to hold strong now?
I will cry when they hold a minutes silence for you. My clients will empathise, but they won’t really understand.
They won’t know about our relationship.
You didn’t even know the bloke!
Yeah I did. I knew you Phillip. I admired you.
You represented everything that Australians want to see in their men.
Traits that we respect.
Humble. Strong. Tenacious. Work Ethic.
I will never be able to say to your detractors ‘See, I told you so’.
Fate robbed us of that chance. But that’s ok mate.
You and I know how the story was going to play out.
They could only keep saying no for so long. We were going to convince them that saying yes was the only way forward.
63 Not Out was your final innings. Red ink. Unbeaten.
Phillip Hughes 1988 – Forever
Wow, nice work Dennis!
Thank you. I’m just shattered like everyone else.
Said all the words that were in my heart. Thanks Dennis.
You just know he thinking something like:
‘Haha. Ok Abbott. You got me this time. You were lucky.
But I’m a patient man. One day I’ll meet you again up here and we’ll do this all again. Next time I’m hitting you over the fence mate!’
I am sorry, I’m a bit weepy atm, I have no words :(((
First time reading one of your articles, but these are very touching words, and describe exactly how I feel. Thankyou for sharing.
Correct on so many counts Dennis. Phil was a really nice, yes humble guy!
Just a full on tragedy.
that’s really rather lovely
Thank you Dennis.
Thank you for finding the right poignant tone.
Thank you from all of us who really have no idea what to say – or how to say it – and are struggling to find a way to express our feelings and sadness at this distressing, humbling time.
But more so, thank you Phillip Hughes for having been Phillip Hughes.
I didn’t initially intend to add to the collective weight of words grieving for our fallen hero – but your piece, Dennis, has moved me to respond. And your site is the best place to pour out my thoughts; your comments section serving as a kind of Book of Remembrance.
I haven’t really any appropriate words to offer, only my own private, insignificant tears to add to the pool of grief and regret. When I awoke to the tragic news all I could choke out hoarsely, awaking my wife, was a strained “oh no, he’d dead.”
Those close to him must be inconsolable. Those who only knew him as a public figure, a professional sportsman, are moved, shocked, saddened. Some even heart-broken. It is such a devastating loss.
We’ve lost a terrific bloke, and a fine, undervalued cricketer. And in the process we all lose something too. And it will take some time for us to realise the full extent of cricket’s loss, and to assess the tragedy’s impact and implications. It will be quite sometime before we all recover from the shock, and we, and the game, slowly move on.
I know, Dennis, that Hughes has been a hero of yours for sometime, and that you’ve campaigned for Phil’s re-selection for quite a while now. As you say, you know you were right – and you don’t need to actually see him achieve that to prove a point. I’m sure you just simply wish you could see the boy batting again.
I was lucky enough to watch Hughes bat several times for Middlesex in his period with them in 2009. I saw him make apparently effortless first-class hundreds against Glamorgan at Lord’s; Leicestershire at Southgate; and Surrey at The Oval. I was at the same game at Southgate that Dmtri Old has spoken of on his blog today – when Hughes succumbed to James Tredwell, who took a further five wickets and finished with 6-27. Middlesex were all out of 133 and lost comfortably. My friend, Andy Smellie said that day: “Well, they (Middlesex) can’t do that badly tomorrow.” The next day we traveled to Bath and saw Middlesex bowled out for 65. Hughes made 5. Another day I saw him bowled by the gentle slow-left-arm of Scotland’s Glenn Rogers.
And I saw Hughes do something twice, which I’d not seen before nor since: he pulled balls OVER the Tavern Stand at Lord’s – colossal hits. My memory suggests that it was during his hundred in the return 50-over match with Somerset.
He was one heck of a player.
I think I’ve said enough.
Dennis, my condolences go out to you as a genuine fan of the late, great Phillip Hughes.
My condolences go out to his distraught family and friends.
And my condolences go out to cricket.
We have all suffered a staggeringly profound loss.
David Oram
Thanks for putting into words what i was thinking and feeling. I also feel for Sean Abbott, I think Hughesy would be the first to tell him , it’s not your fault mate.
Wow. Thanks to all who have commented. All I did was write what came to me on the train ride home. Thursday at the Gabba will be hard, but let’s hope it’s a celebration.
Beautiful words.
Beautiful piece Dennis.
I had a $250 bet with a mate than he would make 5000 test runs before he retired. Too bad we never got to decide that bet, eh, Robb Muirhead. RIP
A fine epitaph to more than fine cricketer.
I doff my hat to the man in the giant mouse suit may you always be remembered for your cricket.
I read this a year ago. It made me cry then and made me cry today. Great piece… Thank you