I always stick around at a cricket ground after the completion of a Test. I never know exactly what it is I’m looking for, but I know it when I see it. After the completion of the recent Bellerive Test, what I saw was the brotherhood of cricket.

Steve Smith has a filler pose: his left arm is crossed behind his back, while his right is roughly in between a crossed position and a straight position behind his back. It was on display a lot after the match; as others talked, as he talked.

On this day, it was a mask for the pain he was feeling.

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But his words were no mask. The time for straight talk had come.

After he completed a post-match interview with Mark Nicholas, and after Nicholas had finished his bit, the pair briefly chatted as they walked towards the southern stand. Obviously, it was impossible to see what they were talking about, but it ended with a sympathetic pat on the back from Nicholas. The brotherhood of cricket on display.

Kevin Pietersen is an exuberant man. To me, that enthusiasm has always seemed sincere. As he hugged every South African player still on the ground after the match, his happiness was palpable.

The brotherhood of cricket was obvious with other ex-players as well. At one point, Faf du Plessis made a detour to embrace Shaun Pollock. I’m sure there were other examples that I missed.

Most of us are familiar with the brotherhood of cricket at an amateur level, but somewhat less familiar with the raw evidence of it in professional circles, or as comfortable with it, and maybe we shouldn’t be.

For example, what should we expect from commentators and how do these expectations fit with the brotherhood of cricket?



After the Hobart match, Michael Clarke said the following:

“I want the Australian team to know that we are right there to help them. We are a part of that cricket family.

“Our phone numbers haven’t change. We’re at every single game … We feel the pain as much as the players.

“We don’t want to get in anybody’s way but, if the Australian changeroom feels like they can use our services for anything to help them, we’d love to help.”

Clarke was the previous Australian captain. I don’t expect him to leave that history behind. If I did, The Roar would have every right to announce my attack as coming from the Sand Bunker End. Channel Nine commentators have never been expected to forget their histories – the histories of the initial team were vital in forging the station’s cricket reputation. At one stage, Nine traded upon the fact that every one of their main commentators was a former international captain.

There’s a brotherhood of Australian professional cricketers, both past and present. A brotherhood is biased. Even a brotherhood that has had its fair share of squabbles recently over book excerpts in the media. Speaking of the media…

The media isn’t for cricketers. It’s about cricketers, and for the consumer. There’s the reason for the warning to sportsmen not to believe the positive or negative press. Professional cricketers must live in a bubble. While you’re in that bubble, it’s advisable to have the attitude that most articles are like letters that aren’t addressed to you: you don’t need to read them.

I certainly wouldn’t expect professional cricketers to read what I write. I mightn’t expect amateur cricketers to read what I write either, but if I did, it would be to do with the quality of the work that emanates from my keyboard and not because they can’t afford to engage with the work itself to do their job properly.



With that in mind, would Clarke’s words be better said in private? But if that’s what he feels, shouldn’t he say it? And if he didn’t, wouldn’t people accuse him of not being on Australia’s side and thwarting his former team?

We all see things we like and don’t like with the brotherhood of cricket, and we all contribute to both. The answer why rests with what I saw after the Bellerive Test.

We’re only human. White lines are clearer on a pitch than in real life.