The Tea Break Series: stories from Eleven Bats

I’m going for a recce,’ I said to Stirlo.

‘There has to be a way to listen to the cricket here, for fuck’s sake.’

I limped towards the armed security manning the media area. To my surprise, the guard was shaping to let me through, obviously thinking I was media. To cement myself in his mind, I told him what a great job he was doing and shook his hand in the most ingratiating manner. I cracked a joke and looked deep into his eyes as we laughed—insertion method and passage-of-lines secured! I made my way up the stairs leading to the TV boxes, past the commercial TV commentary boxes that looked more like a hairdressing salon, along to the ABC box at the very end. There was the great man plying his trade. I quickly realised that the room was partitioned in two, and the non-ABC side was empty. I went in there, and nobody cared. Here I was, living a boyhood dream, sitting in the ABC commentary box, right behind the bowler’s arm, while in the same room Jim Maxwell commentated on Test match cricket. It had been three months since Sean’s death. I rubbed my right knee, which was still achy and very weak. Should I really be here? I decided to suspend that thought, relax and enjoy a few overs.

I went back and got Stirlo. ‘Let’s go, just follow my lead, act like you own the place.’

‘Where are we going, Harry?’

‘I have a surprise for you.’

We headed back past the guard and took a seat alongside Jim, we were like twelve-year-old boys who had just found their fathers’ Playboy stash. We watched Michael Hussey make his only Test hundred in India, were interviewed by Jim Maxwell live on radio, and ate lunch with the media pack, including a great conversation with Mike Coward about the importance of Quetta in the GWOT. This surreal and beautiful experience took me right out of myself. I truly appreciated the importance of having civilian mates outside of the SAS. It is now the number one piece of advice I have for young operators: have something outside the unit, a Third Thing. Don’t let the SAS define you. Spend time with civilians, as they will give you a greater sense of identity.

‘How good is this, Harry?’ Stirlo beamed. ‘Glad you came?’

‘Brilliant, mate. Just what the doctor ordered.’