27th of November, 2014 was the day the cricket world stopped. Phillip Joel Hughes was pronounced dead at St. Vincent’s Hospital in Sydney. Matches were abandoned, players were broken, and the overwhelming feeling of grief, loss and despair seemed to reverberate through the populace, whether or not they knew who Phil Hughes was, or what he did for a living. To follow this story was to follow the aftermath of one of cricket’s most harrowing tragedies, and its implications on the cricketing world and society as a whole. The essay is split into two major parts: the ways in which Hughes’ death was dealt with by the media, how it was given meaning and how Hughes’ life was celebrated and two, how that media representation affected society, particularly Australian culture.
Media Interpretation of Hughes’ Death
During a Sheffield Shield game, the 22-year old New South Wales bowler, Sean Abbott bowled a bouncer at Hughes, who mistimed a pull. The ball crashed into the area under Hughes’ ear. Hughes stumbled, knelt over and collapsed. Three days later, after attempts to save his life failed, he passed away in the hospital. It seemed almost fitting to trace the story from its naissance to his three year anniversary, which was earlier this week. In that time, grief turned to debate, and a study of that evolution goes a long way in understanding the game of cricket and Australian culture as a whole.
On the 27th of November, the news that Phillip Hughes had passed away dominated TV channels and newspapers across Australia. Most channels interrupted their broadcasts to relay the tragic news. In cricketing countries outside Australia, the news made headlines and got significant coverage. On examining the story, it was found that the Australian media attached gravitas to the story by alluding to nationalistic sentiments. Media houses used phrases like “Australia’s son” and referred to the number of international games he played for Australia. The media played out the story of Hughes’ death through Michael Clarke, then captain of Australia, and close friend of Hughes’. As captain of Australia, Clarke was something of a role model to millions of Australians, and by detailing his anguish, the media prompted Australia’s outpouring of emotion over Hughes’ passing.
Hughes’ funeral was broadcast on Channel 9, the same channel that broadcasts all of Australia’s cricket. This broadcast brought the real grief of popular faces, cricket players and officials, to the public’s homes. Michael Clarke’s touching eulogy was seen by millions around the world; it was almost impossible to be in Australia and not care about Hughes’ untimely death. This eulogy, which focused on Hughes spirit, and the spirit of the game, opened the floodgates to a tide of articles, videos and blog-posts, each examining the story from a different light. These can be broadly divided into four main categories. There is the media content that acts as a tribute to the life and times of Hughes, the ways in which the cricket world moves on, the media’s treatment of Sean Abbott in the aftermath and the eventual debate about bouncers.
Gideon Haigh argues that athletes exist in the public’s eye in a state of eternal youth. Scyld Berry furthers that claim by adding that it is this youth, imperfection and promise of unfulfilled potential that makes athletes, and by extension, sports, so captivating. The tributes to Hughes reflected this: a country mourning the loss of youth. Newspaper articles, across Australia and the world, focused their tributes on Hughes’ potential. “He was going to be a star”, Andrew Menczel, of the Australian Cricket Podcast, said. That Hughes’ youth was the crux of the tragedy was reiterated in the media, where notable cricket personalities repeatedly referred to him as “Bruz” or “little bro”. Other media delved into Hughes’ achievements till that point. By giving his life context in a cricketing sense, they made Hughes’ life worth caring about, which made his passing just as sad. In the song Urthboy wrote in dedication to Hughes, Hughes is humanised through his career. “The nerves are bilingual” is a particularly poignant lyric. Hughes’ early success were discussed in detail; they were used to create a character: “young, hardworking and humble”, in the words of Cricket Australia CEO, James Sutherland. This was backed up descriptions of his his friendly demeanour, his friendliness and love of life. These tributes encapsulated Hughes as young, passionate and larger than life, and tragically cut down right before his prime.
The tributes to Hughes were influenced largely by symbolic gestures by Cricket Australia and the larger cricketing world as well. Hughes jersey number, 64, was retired. The Test match due to start in Adelaide on the 2nd of December, was pushed back to the 9th, to give the players and country more time to grieve. The New Zealand vs Pakistan game, taking place in the UAE during this tragedy, was called off for the day and when it resumed, New Zealand refused to bowl a single bouncer, or celebrate any of their milestones. All this meant that the cricket world, for the days after the Hughes tragedy, effectively stopped. This emphasised the importance of the tragedy to everyone in the cricket world. However, it was symbolism through social media that accelerated the story globally. The Twitter hashtag, #Putoutyourbats, went viral. Millions of people, posted pictures of their bats and caps. This included famous cricketers and celebrities across the world, including Sachin Tendulkar and popular football clubs. This meant that the story went outside the cricket bubble. The hashtags #63notout and #408, too, trended on Twitter. The Twitter campaign was so successful that Australia’s Twitter headquarters has an entire wall decorated with bats in memory of Hughes and Twitter’s part in paying tribute to him.
The Adelaide Test, played between India and Australia from December 9th to 13th 2014, was a seminal moment in the story of Phil Hughes’ passing. It represented cricket moving on, in a number of ways. The story is followed through the players and the fans, who each played their parts as the spirit of Hughes and the general public, respectively. The agents were the Australian team, particularly Michael Clarke, who played the Test despite a career threatening back injury. The articles published by ESPNCricinfo detailed the atmosphere change during the game. Jarrod Kimber describes the scene right before the Test match as “too morbid” in his essay, “The Perfect Test”. A 408 was painted on the field, bats, flowers and photographs of smiling Phil Hugheses were everywhere. Every Australian player wore a black armband with the initials “PH”. Before the game, there is a 63 second applause from the crowd, followed by a tribute from the legendary commentator, Richie Benaud. These tributes were Cricket Australia’s way of remembering Hughes, on a broadcast watched by over 75 million people, largely widening the scope of the story.
In the Test, Michael Clarke scores a century, an innings he dedicated to Hughes. Clarke is praised by the media for this effort. A particularly good example was, “Clarke has buried a friend. Fronted the media. Given a eulogy. And somehow, despite it all, stronger than before.” David Warner and Steve Smith, both extremely affected by the incident, too raised their bats to the sky when crossing 50, 63 and 100. These gestures, from the captain, the soon-to-be captain and vice-captain, respectively, showed the viewing public that their role models, were still mourning, and they should too.
Then, a change in approach is shown by ESPN by a change of protagonist. From focusing on the mourning Australians, they now begin to focus on the hyper-competitive Indian captain, Virat Kohli, whose thoughts are clearly on the cricket, and not Hughes. Kohli is used as a vessel for cricket to move on. Through Kohli, and the rallying Indians, the focus is brought back, from Hughes to cricket. In certain media, Kohli is seen as an antagonist, as touring captains often are. His decision to ‘send-off’ Australian batsmen was seen as disrespectful. And thus, in the Australian media, it became a simple equation: Australia were the good guys, the guys playing for their fallen mate, versus a foreign force determined to win. This characterisation gave the Test heart.
By the 5th day of the Test, India are at the precipice of victory, courtesy of Virat Kohli. Just 15 minutes from securing victory, the Australian bowlers spark a collapse and Australia win in a classic come from behind win. At this point, the media is almost totally dedicated to the cricket, and cricket seems to have returned to normal, outside the planned and manufactured tributes. Australia, on taking the final wicket, sprint spontaneously to the 408 painted on the Adelaide turf and sing “Under the Southern Cross I Stand”, their team’s victory song. This moment lauded by ESPN, “This was a perfect cricket moment. The perfect Test. The perfect celebration,” their site read. The emphasis on Hughes in the Test, and the very natural ‘moving on’ process through the Test was dubbed, “cricket healing itself”. After the Adelaide Test, the tributes ceased, and cricket returned to normal.
In 2016, the state of New South Wales began a coroner’s inquest to examine Hughes’ death. This highly publicised investigation was an ugly affair, dredging up skeletons in droves. It was covered much like a court case is. Greg Hughes, Phil’s father, questioned whether the game was ‘a safe environment’. Helmets were examined. It was also revealed that the New South Wales players were allegedly sledging Hughes relentlessly during his innings. The quote “I’ll kill you” apparently uttered by Doug Bollinger, was a particular point of contention. Players were accused, indirectly, of having a part of play in Hughes’ demise. Tabloids ran rampant with the claims. The more sensitive media criticised the inquest by alluding to the various roles the players played at the funeral (one of them was even one of Hughes’ pallbearers). While everyone was eventually cleared of fault, the inquest served as a bitter reminder of the reality of the tragedy, outside the tide of goodwill initially expressed.
The inquest continued the very real conversation about bouncers– something that remained the backbone of the Phillip Hughes story. A bouncer, a delivery well within the laws of the game, had killed Hughes, and it was bound to be an object of debate. Everyone had an opinion. Michael Vaughan, former England captain, argued that a batsman’s ability to deal with bouncers is what made him “Test Class”. No bouncers meant no quality cricket. It was feared, post the tragedy, that bowlers everywhere would cease to bowl bouncers. It was not so. In the 19th ball of the Adelaide game, Varun Aaron bowled one to David Warner, and was applauded by the crowd. Sean Abbott, the 22 year old that bowled the ball that killed Hughes, too, in his comeback game, delivered a bouncer in his 5th ball. That was cheered and lauded in the media as well. It is written in the code of cricket as much as it is in sport in general: sport without danger is hardly sport at all. Bouncers were not seen that way by others. Some pundits felt that the bouncer should be done away with, or limited, but these opinions were few and far between. Most mainstream media outlets spoke about toughening up, building better protective gear and playing on.
Social Impacts of the Hughes Tragedy
The death of Phillip Hughes changed what it meant to be Australian. Australian culture has long been linked to its sports, particularly cricket, and it is even said the Australian cricket team pre-empted the nation. By examining the key pieces of insight from the media treatment of the issue, one can conclude that the Phillip Hughes tragedy changed the way in which Australians looked at their national sport, and indeed, themselves.
Cricket culture defines Australia. The sunny outdoors, spending time with your mates. It is often said that the Australian cricket captain holds the second highest office in the country, such is the love Australians have for their national sport. Phil Hughes defined that love in a nutshell. Known for saying, “What would you rather be doing, boys, than playing cricket for your country.”, Hughes exemplified Australia’s love for the sport. As mentioned in Part 1, Hughes was used as a symbol of youth. For many, he was also a symbol of hope. From a small town in the north of New South Wales, he was the outdoorsy, rural, cheeky chap the Australians identified with. He was the passionate, talented cricketer with a homespun technique worth rooting for. That made his death a national tragedy. He was hope for Australia, hope had just been killed by the game he loved so much. And that sent a nation into shock. Phil Hughes was depicted as Australia’s younger brother, and the nation mourned as such. It is widely reported that nothing brings Australia together like cricket. Now it had. The nation mourned the loss of a son together.
Australia is a country known for its toughness. Toughness against the conditions, against the odds, against the opponent. It is this hardness that defines their cricket and national identity. Allan Border, legendary Australian captain, once almost let his teammate die rather than be ‘soft’. The Grade Cricketer, a semi-satirical Twitter presence, describes Australia’s efforts to be “Alpha” at all times a deep-rooted part of their culture. It is no surprise that Australia is the centre for sledging, bouncers and generally hard cricket. This impression of that Australians hold of themselves, of being manly and tough at all times, was changed forever in the light of the Phil Hughes tragedy. When the Australian captain, the unofficial bastion of hardness in the country, weeps openly at a press conference, and delivers a tear-filled eulogy as his friend’s funeral, it opens the country up, allowing everyone to drop the act, and have a bit of a cry. Men wept openly at street corners. Children put tear-stained bats out. Hard men from clubs that refuse to wear gloves cried openly at cricket grounds. Australia let its guard down. Being Australian no longer meant repression, or holding in sadness. The sports media ushered in a change of perspective, asking the Australian people to think about what really mattered and the resounding answer was unity and mateship.
When the Melbourne Cricket Club was founded in 1838, it’s constitution read '[for] men of all classes, the plebian mingling with the peer, in respectful feeling and good fellowship'. When Australia was founded, nearly fifty years later, it demanded a society based on these ideals. Phillip Hughes, a 25 year old from rural New South Wales, showed that cricket, and hence Australia, accepts just about anyone, and in his death, brought the country together to realise that, in a time of rising intolerance and class divide.
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