Adam Gilchrist redefined the role of a wicket-keeper batsman in a dazzling career for Australia. After his retirement in 2008, his predecessor, Ian Healy, wrote a fascinating assessment.
Adam Gilchrist is a player who should be remembered as being even better than his statistics suggest – a big statement, but a true one.
Given that he made more dismissals (416) than anyone else in Tests, and had a batting average of 47.60, the stats say a lot about his greatness. But they don’t quite reveal the full story of the comfort and confidence he gave his team-mates. “Leave it to Gilly,” is the phrase that keeps coming into my head. Many times Australia did. Hardly ever did he let them down. Of his 96 Tests, Australia won 73 and lost just 11. It is no coincidence that in the only two series he played that Australia lost – in India in 2000/01, and in England in 2005 – he struggled as a batsman.
He was a remarkable performer because, for all his greatness, he did not create the constant fuss that surrounds champion specialists such as Brian Lara or Sachin Tendulkar or Ricky Ponting, who always seem to be generating headlines and massive expectations as the danger-men of the day. People rarely concentrated on Gilchrist in such a way – but everyone knew he was there, and everyone knew he was dangerous.
As a batsman, he was an extraordinary performer. He scored 14 of his 17 Test tons in the first innings, and all but three were in matches his side won. He was great at setting up a game then handing it over to the top order in the second innings. His first-innings average of 52 was much higher than his second-innings 36, although the second figure is still honourable, for it was propped up by a string of useful scores when every run was a pearl.
Gilchrist maintained a long tradition among Australian wicketkeepers of celebrating wins with a decent night’s drinking. A consolatory drink was often as valuable as the celebratory one: he was the champ there too. A “none or a gutful” man, but one who knew how to drink – never in a moment’s trouble after any of Australia’s Test wins, three World Cups, and plenty more.
An Australian batsman who walked was a new breed in the modern era and, ironically, to my knowledge he never had to walk again after his initial World Cup gesture against Sri Lanka at Port Elizabeth in 2003. Gilly was in an extremely strong position to begin walking – he was averaging superbly with the bat, with glovework to match. He took on a tough position, though, as the wicketkeeper who walked. There are always times when keepers appeal without full knowledge of whether something is out, and this was the dilemma he took on – to leave it to the umpire in the field but not while batting.
Another facet of his play which was rarely talked about was gamesmanship. A turn of phrase, delivered succinctly at appropriate moments and disguised with humour, became extremely effective. His blood boiled over at times, and he was spoken to more than once by match referees. While he was Mr Natural, he loved to get shirty and dirty, which further enhanced his image among his peers.
Incredible talent unsurpassed in the game’s history, in a style never before seen; a team man who provided confidence to all around him, allowing them to perform naturally without fear of losing; someone who would scrap with you in tough times. What more could you ask for? The answer is nothing. Adam Gilchrist had the lot, and was able to show us it all.
