As news of Richie Benaud’s passing rocks the nation this morning, The Weekly celebrates the life of a man who brought so much spirit to the game of cricket.
The 84-year-old commentator and former player died in a Sydney hospice after battling skin cancer.
Benaud had been receiving radiation treatment since November.
Benaud is survived by his loving wife Daphne.
See below Benaud’s life in pictures and a tribute to the gentleman of Australian cricket, written by Nine Network colleague Steve Crawley for The Weekly last year.
There will be one seat conspicuously empty in the Nine Network commentary box: that of my good friend, Richie Benaud.
A car accident has temporarily sidelined Richie, and for the first time in 36 years, his voice will not be among those calling the action.
No, “Marvellous!”, no “What a catch!”, and no, “Chew for twenty-chew”.
And he will be missed. Missed by cricket-loving Australians everywhere, but also missed by each one of us in the Wide World of Sports team. Because working alongside this titan of the sport – a man for whom the expression “nature’s gentleman” must surely have been coined – is a daily lesson in humility, class and the importance of old-school manners. Traits so rarely seen, much less celebrated, in this age of multi-millionaire celebrity sports stars.
There are so many ways to pay homage to a man as accomplished as Richie Benaud, but it’s a catalogue of the little things for which we love him that perhaps best celebrates his legend. Not that he ever wants to be celebrated in any fashion. We love the way the waiter comes around at dinner and says, “Red or white, Mr Benaud?” and he says, “Yes, thank you!”
The way he walks along the Yarra on those sultry evenings of the Boxing Day Test, hand-in-hand with wife Daphne. How he comes to the MCG the next day, raises his miniature binoculars and looks for her seat in the sold-out stands. How, when he finds Daphne, he lowers his binoculars, smiles and waves. She doesn’t see him, of course. But with him, it’s the thought that counts. The total respect.
Richie with wife Daphne.
Just a few years ago, we had a lunch to celebrate the end of another cracking summer of cricket.
Nearing sunset, one of our rookie producers goes merrily around the table, shaking hands with everyone and carrying on with his goodbyes.
Then commentator Ian Healy, the best wicketkeeper of the 20th century, barks, “When will you young blokes learn? A few minutes ago, the greatest man of all got up and left with no fuss.
He just stood, smiled and said, ‘Thanks … goodbye’.” Fellow legend Tony Greig, the former England captain, died at just 66 years of age on December 29 last year – the scheduled fourth day of the Boxing Day Test.
It upset Richie no end. Two months later, Bill Lawry, who served as Richie’s vice-captain for Australia way back when and who has been his sidekick in commentary since just about forever, announces he’s reigning back. Not retiring, mind you, just reigning back. And then, on October 23, 2013, Richie has his car crash.
On the way home from hitting practice balls at The Australian Golf Club, his beloved 1963 Sunbeam mounts the nature strip and slams into a brick wall.
Richie breaks his sternum and damages other parts that hurt and bleed. We love his humility and humour, always have. The way he treats people like they are the special ones. A gentle man and a gentleman.
There’s a big bash in Sydney to celebrate what would have been Don Bradman’s 100th birthday. Some 750 people fork out $350 each to go.
At one table sit the one-time opening Test batsmen from Wagga Wagga – Mark “Tubby” Taylor and Michael Slater – and during the night there are always two or
three people huddled around them seeking autographs.
Over at Richie’s table, a 100-person conga line of cricket lovers wait for a quiet word and signature, while on the big screen flickers archival footage of Richie interviewing his old mate, Don Bradman.
We love the way he talks of Bradman, like The Don was just another human being. Bradman, the chairman of selectors; Richie, the captain of Australia. How one handed the team on paper to the other. How Daphne Benaud and Jessie Bradman are soul mates. There’s Sir Don.
And there’s Bob Menzies, our longest serving PM. Menzies taught Richie the art of the pause when making a speech.
How not to overstate or overplay. They chatted about it strategically: Richie and Sir Robert Menzies. Imagine that.
We love the way the Logies people ring every year, wanting Richie to accept induction to television’s Hall of Fame, and every year he politely knocks them back.
He might consider individual honours once he retires, he says, but for now, he’s still part of a team. Oh, he did once accept an OBE – Order of the British Empire – but
only because he didn’t want to embarrass Her Majesty, the Queen of England.
And, most of all, we love the way he cannot be bullied, by anyone. Go back to April 6, 1977, and Daphne has cooked up a storm for a bunch of friends from the world over.
The phone rings. It’s KP. Kerry Packer. “Begin lunch without me,” Richie tells Daphne.
Waiting in the boardroom at 54 Park Street are Harry Chester, the then Financial Director of the Nine Network, confidant John Cornell, a couple of other executive
types, Austin Robertson included, and, of course, Mr Packer.
“Richie,” begins Packer, “what we are about to discuss – you can tell no one.”
“I’m sorry, Mr Packer, I can’t agree to that.”
“What? This is confidential … you can’t tell anyone.”
“Well, should I leave now?”
“Just who do you have to tell, Richie?”
“Daphne.”
“Why do you have to tell Daphne?”
“She knows I’ve come here at short notice to see you and the first thing she’ll ask when I get home is what did Mr Packer want?”
There is unrest, there is silence, more unrest and, finally, “Okay, you can tell Daphne … but no one else.”
After World Series Cricket is outlined to its first-choice host/commentator, Packer wants an answer. Now.
But Richie can’t give him an answer.
“Why?”
“Because I need to go home and chat to Daphne.”
The meeting at Park Street is followed by a pleasant if late lunch at Coogee. The following day, World Series Cricket has an anchor. Howzat!
The above video filmed by Channel Nine is Richie’s memories of Boxing Day. See full video here.
This story was originally published in The Australian Women’s Weekly, January 2014.
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