Rod Marsh: How old-school lessons at the academy changed world cricket for the better

He was mates with absolutely everybody in Adelaide during his time running the academy and would know which of us went out on the town, where we went and what shape we were in at the end of the night.

So after a big Friday night you’d inevitably get the call on a Saturday morning.

“Henley Beach. Now.”

Rod would perch himself at the top of the dunes and look down as we all coughed and spluttered and sweated our way through the heavy sand with a belly full of beer.

“How was The Grand last night, Brad?” he’d ask at the end of it.

“What are you talking about, Rod?” I’d reply, barely able to move.

We all learned quickly there was no point trying to bullshit him.

He already knew everything.

Rod was an old-school, hard-task master and it was all designed to give us a tough edge. The game was transitioning from amateurism to professionalism around this time and he saw it as his job to prepare us for everything that brought with it.

Show up late for training? That usually meant a midwinter dip in the ocean out the front of Del Monte. It was painfully cold and Rod knew it. He would be there in his big AIS jacket and beanie while we tiptoed into the water, freezing our arses off.

There was always a smirk on his face. I think he enjoyed it.

“Who’s sooking?” he’d ask his assistant. “Who’s owning it?”

I don’t know if modern coaching protocols would approve of all Rod’s methods but, as a student of his from the age of 18, I can say it was the best introduction to the game I could’ve hoped for. He taught us all what it was to be a professional.

I still remember vividly the first time we met. I was the smallest kid there, a 15-year-old at an under 17s carnival, playing at a little grade ground in Tasmania for the Canberra Comets.

I was awestruck. This was the bloke I’d watch on TV as a kid in Queanbeyan and then immediately sprint out to the backyard to try to emulate what I’d just seen: a massive swat over mid-wicket for six against the Pommie quicks, or a flying, horizontal catch with the heels flicked up in the air off the bowling of DK Lillee.

The shirt unbuttoned almost to the navel.

The short sleeve shirt and those forearms like Popeye.

There wouldn’t have been a kid my age who hadn’t tried to be Rod Marsh at some point.

I packed away my ‘Rod Marsh Kookaburra Gold’ gloves and walked over to speak to him. It was the first of many such chats with him over the course of my life, all of which I’m grateful for. He talked about the way the game should be played: never passive, always moving forward. He talked about wicketkeeping and batting and tactics. Through it all, his passion for cricket shone through. It always did. You couldn’t walk away from a cricket chat with Rod without getting a sense of his pure love of the game.

And he was always very protective of the wicketkeepers. He had a special place in his heart for us. There is no coincidence whatsoever that the same, positive approach he played with was imbued in the likes of Ian Healy, Adam Gilchrist (who took it to another level again) and all who have followed.

He paved the way for all of us.

He changed the idea of what a wicketkeeper-batsman was.

I remember the time I broke his world record for most dismissals in a series in England. I went back to my room after returning from the ground and there was a bottle of champagne and a beautiful note waiting for me from Rod to congratulate me. When my wife and I got down to the bar, he was the first one there to shout us a drink and say well done.

He didn’t tell anyone what he’d done. It was just between us.

Those are the kinds of things you never forget.

Some of the greatest lessons I ever learned were imparted by Rod at the hotel bar. He was incredibly generous in sharing his knowledge and experiences. Tip in a few pints and the stories would start flowing. I would sit there mesmerised. I can’t think of a better cricketing education than spending a few hours at the bar with him.

And you wouldn’t even think about taking him on in a drinking contest.

Rod never came second there.

In the years to come, I think the world will come to truly understand just how profound and far-reaching Rod Marsh’s legacy to the game has been. The game never stood still when he played and he passed that mentality onto every player who went through the academy who, in turn, took that approach to the world stage.

His graduates formed the core of the most successful period of cricket Australia has ever known. They breathed new life into the Test format and other teams around the world have since tried to emulate that entertaining, enterprising approach to the game.

So much of that comes back to Rod.

He played the game the right way. He told us that it was our job to entertain.

Cricket is better for it.