No. 11: Shane Bond (Part One)

Arguably NZ's fastest ever bowler, the Blackcaps were always a better team when Shane Bond was playing. In Part One, the boy from Belfast talks grass roots, turning points, attitude and dedication.

My link to Shane Bond is a little tenuous. He is adamant that we would have played each other during the late ‘90s in Christchurch club cricket. But I refuse to believe I could forget playing against the fastest bowler New Zealand has produced. More than 15 years later, my ex-wife, a lawyer, advised Shane during a scatterbrained time for New Zealand Cricket. Bond’s ‘outspokenness’ at the time reveals a theme that runs through his interview - openness, honesty and loyalty are the foundations to a strong moral code.

But fun was another theme - our interview was full of laughter as we recounted shenanigans and tales of characters who made light of tense situations. Because of his various T20 commitments around the world, when we spoke, Shane hadn’t been home for seven months. We spent a long time discussing our sons. It reminded me of a time when Shane had agreed to go to the school nets and watch my Cam, a budding fast bowler. His only request was that I ask permission from Cam’s starstruck coaches first. While Shane repeatedly expressed gratitude to me for the opportunities cricket had offered him and his family, I could sense he was simply looking forward to being home, being a dad and a husband.

‘How did I get here?’ I still have those moments.”

The Mumbai Indians always showed me a remarkable level of care. After COVID, I was flown back from India in a private jet and served wagyu beef at 40,000 feet. We stopped off in Tokyo - I poked my head out of the airport and went ‘Wow!’ I grew up in Belfast and the game has given me the chance to do this. I am invited to schools to talk to kids. I take pictures everywhere I go and show them where they could end up, the things they might do and the people they could meet.

When you’ve grown up watching the All Blacks, and now you’re the one standing there singing the anthem, watching the flag. Now it’s your turn. I’m standing on the WACA, the SCG, and the MCG watching Mark and Steve Waugh, Gilchrist and Ponting - arguably the greatest team of all time, and I distinctly remember thinking, ‘How good is this?’ Or the chance to bowl to Sachin Tendulkar or face Brett Lee. I wanted to tell my mates that I’d faced him. We played Australia in Sri Lanka and I had the opportunity to face Shane Warne. The interior monologue went something like, ‘I’m going to hit him for six. My mates are going to think this is awesome!’ I charged him - guts or glory - was dropped first ball and stumped the second. [we laughed hard]

I don’t necessarily tell the kids about Australians giving you shit, but those are some of the things I remember. Some yobbo yelling out to ‘Bring him on at both ends.’ Or walking through the tunnel at Perth, ringed with kids looking down at you, bleating. That Perth test stands out. It was a full house and as the day went on, the crowd was getting pissed and rowdy - we’d had four streakers. Even in the heat of battle, you’re cracking up as you run in to bowl.

My first memories of cricket are from television. I just loved watching and as I grew, I became a massive cricket watcher. I try not to watch so much now, outside of T20, but back then [the early 80s] I vaguely recall the underarm incident, Lance Cairns’s six sixes at the MCG, The Boys in the Brown. My first years were spent in Upper Hutt and I remember going to the Basin Reserve to see Ian Botham in 1983. Then Mum took me to the local club and she said, ‘For whatever reason, you could just bowl.’ I also remember I couldn’t bat that well.

There was no real family connection to the game. In those days, I never even saw my parents exercise - there was certainly no going to a gym. We came back to Christchurch when I was 9 and I played for Belfast. The club didn’t really exist but my father banded together with a couple of parents and made a team. Incredibly, I ended up playing with guys I’m still friends with 35 years later. At home, I had a wooden crate, otherwise I would just grab my wickets and go to the little park across the road. There was a huge tree - it had a cavity and that’s where I put my stumps. If I was lucky, the ball would go into the cavity otherwise it would bounce off and I’d have a chase on my hands. Bowl and pick it up. Bowl and pick it up. I look back now and think, ‘Hell, that must have been boring.’ But not at the time. I loved it. I don’t remember any coaching. I just found out by watching and doing it naturally. Belfast didn’t even have a net. That didn’t come until I went to Papanui High School.

I loved school cricket. There was no expectation on Papanui - we weren’t one of the fashionable cricketing schools, which made it all the more satisfying when we tipped one of them over. We had a mix of abilities, enjoyed each other’s company and we used to share it around - everyone had a go. I made Canterbury age group teams but I was something of an outsider … from Belfast and Papanui, a no-one playing on the outskirts of town. We played every Saturday and Sunday, and I got to hang out with my mates, talk rubbish on the sidelines and plan the night ahead. I’d had enough of school by my final year. The social aspect of being with friends was just as important as the cricket. I remember rally races in our cars around the school grounds. So much fun. I made a tight, lifelong connection to a group of ten friends. We spent a lot of time together and we still laugh about those times. Often it’s not the game but everything and everyone around it.

The Christchurch high schools had a roster of jobs at Lancaster Park and Papanui’s job was to man the scoreboard and sightscreen - half the summer was spent there. Sometimes you got to venture into the dressing room to deliver something. Otherwise, we watched all day. I saw Hadlee get his 400th, saw Tendulkar. It became real when we saw these players up close. Then I progressed to being a net bowler. I always had the dream but never the confidence that it would happen. I was just playing and hoping.

Even by that age, I can’t remember any coaching in terms of bowling … nothing. It got to the point that at 16, I called Dayle Hadlee - back in the day when phone numbers were in a book. I’d never seen myself bowl. To his credit, he offered to help. That marked the start of a relationship that still exists. I thought I bowled like Paddles - I had all his videos and books - but the video was awful. I looked nothing like him. Later I tried to include elements of Danny Morrison, Chris Cairns, Waqar, Malcolm Marshall off the long run and Alan Donald. I was naturally athletic but I was lazy, and I never had a big engine. I hated running. I didn’t have the discipline to stay fit early on and that’s when the injuries started. Combine late developer with laziness and wanting to bowl fast and you have the perfect storm for back injuries. I try to instil in Ryan [his son] a discipline for doing things you might not necessarily like.

I could have done with someone kicking my backside. I didn’t have that base to call upon later, I hadn’t put the miles in the legs. I made the New Zealand Under 19s but from 18 to 21, when I was first selected for Canterbury, I was injured a lot of the time. I straddled three eras, from amateur through semi-pro and into the professional. It was confusing and difficult to navigate as a young man.

It seems laughable to look back on it now, but in those days, Canterbury was leading the way. We would gather on a Sunday and go running through the Port Hills to the Sign of the Kiwi. You’d finish and blokes would be cracking open a beer. In my debut for Canterbury, the last one to hit the stumps in warm-ups had to shotgun a can at the end of the day. I recall guys turning up at the nets pissed from Cup Day, hitting the side netting and giggling. I was not a great drinker, but it takes maturity and strength to say, ‘Actually I don’t want this any more.’ Sometimes you drink because it’s good for team morale and it brings people together. In international cricket, maybe at the end of a series. You might go into the Australian dressing room and they’ll tell you how good they were.

I had several turning points. Tracey [Shane’s wife] and I travelled to England for the 1999 season. I played for Furness in North Lancashire. I cleaned up and took heaps of wickets [a mere 118, a league record]. I was fit and looking forward to the first-class season at home. Then I received a call-up to the Police. I accepted because I needed the job. Tracey was working at the local McDonalds and I was getting £100 a week. We were scraping by but had enough to enjoy a jaunt to Europe before we headed back. I missed the entire summer because of my training at Police College, but I still followed the cricket. And like most things, you don’t appreciate it until you miss it, missing it by choice instead of by injury. It wasn’t until I stepped away from it, looked back, and realised that was what I wanted. I made a plan. I told myself, ‘I’m going to save my holidays through the winter and play whatever cricket I can … club, whatever. If I’m going to play, I’m going to bowl flat out. I’ve got a job now. I’m not so bothered about getting injured.’ I’m certain the Police propelled me to the success I enjoyed.

And I did bowl fast. I had a relaxed attitude - the game wasn’t everything. I reconnected with Dayle and worked with him through the winter. New Zealand ‘A’ was going to India and Scott Styris got injured. Paddles was a selector and brother Dayle said, ‘Shane’s going well.’ I was selected and found myself in Chennai. It was 1000 degrees but I took some wickets. I was put on standby for the Pakistan tour when the World Trade Center was attacked, but not long after, I was at a Canterbury trial at Hagley Park - freezing October day. Dion Nash and Shayne O’Connor had broken down in Australia. Martin Snedden called and said, ‘You’re going.’ I’m sure plenty of people benefitted from my injuries but I certainly had my luck, too.

In Australia, I had no expectation it was going to last for long. ‘I’m playing Australia. I’m going to get spanked, but I’d just love to take a Test wicket.’ I took a couple, but I still thought, ‘This must nearly be over.’ I was picked for the ODI series and honestly I just had one of those times when half-volleys were hit to fielders. And then I bowled the Gilchrist yorker. That ball changed my mind-set. It turned from ‘Please don’t smash me!’ to ‘I can do this.’ I was a cop, an amateur playing the best in the world. What would happen if I trained? What could I do? Chris Cairns sat me down and gave me some of the best advice I’ve ever had: ‘Try to be the best bowler in New Zealand. From there, become the best in the world.’ This was coming from a hero of mine. I refocussed. I made a plan. Statistically, this is what I need to do - 5 wickets per Test, 2 per ODI at 4 runs per over - and trained myself to take fitness to another level. And that’s what happened. Up until then, I had had confidence in my own ability but I hadn’t felt that others rated me.

Part Two will be with you next week