READERS REPORT (9) MY SUMMER AS RICHARD HADLEE

READERS REPORT  www.stuff.co.nz 10/03/2014

GERARD O'NEIL

My summer as Richard Hadlee

I will never forget the summer of 1984. It was hot and dry, and in January the English cricket team arrived for a three-test series against New Zealand.

I had never been much of a cricket fan, but like most New Zealanders at the time, something happened and we were all swept up by cricket fever.

Even though the first test was a draw, the only topic of conversation during the following days was cricket and how our homegrown cricketing heroes should play the next test.

It seemed that everywhere you went children had turned every open space into cricket pitches.

I remember visiting my uncle and aunty on their sheep farm, and on climbing the high hill behind the house I looked down to the parched valley, where I spotted a small green rectangle in the home paddock.

Curious, I asked my uncle what the green patch was. It turned out it was my cousin's cricket pitch.

When we got back to the house, my cousins had arrived home from school and, after a quick drink, I was roped into playing a game of cricket.

Our game had some extra rules. There was a time-out when too many sheep were on the pitch, and if a batsman hit a sheep, they lost four runs.

By the second test in Christchurch, cricket interest was at fever pitch. Richard Hadlee had become as famous as Sir Edmund Hillary.

Then something began to happen. One day I was walking down a busy street in Nelson when someone shouted from a passing car, "Get them Richard".

Soon after, someone close by said: "Good on ya mate; show those Poms how to play cricket."

Initially I took no notice of the comments, thinking they were directed at someone else, but the next day as I was walking alone down a street another car went by and someone shouted, "Nice one Richard".

Soon people were regularly stopping me in the street to ask if I was Richard Hadlee. At first I thought it was funny, but by the time of the third test in Auckland, it was becoming irritating.

People would stop me to give me their views on how I should play the afternoon's session.

The amazing thing was that none of these so-called experts seemed to be able to grasp the fact that if I was playing a test in Auckland, how could I be walking the streets of Nelson at the same time?

Things came to a head when a boy of about 9 began to pester me for my autograph.

I do not know how many times I tried to explain that I was not Hadlee, but when he began to cry I gave in.

I took his pen and paper. I do not know how Hadlee signs Richard, but I can guarantee it was nothing like the Richard I signed for the little boy.

With all the attention I was getting, I decided I needed a disguise.

I soon found the perfect solution - I shaved off my moustache.

It worked. No-one ever mistook me for Hadlee again!

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