Thread by @senantix

Thread:
In a team full of hardened men, who played the game with scary ruthlessness and earned the tag The Ugly Australians with deserving valour and pride, Kim Hughes (born 26 Jan 1954) arrived as a breath of fresh air. #cricket #onthisday #kimhughes

Effervescent, lovable, as charming in his game and as in his brilliant smile, with clean shaven boyish looks and golden locks on which sunbeams seemed to ripple, he perpetually looked the baby of the team — even when he led the side through the tumultuous late 70s and early 80s.

And he even went where no Australian captain had ever gone before, walking into the dressing room of the opponents and apologising after his pace bowler had unleashed a beamer.

He did prove himself on the field.
In the Centenary Test at Lord’s, he hit 117 & 84 — runs that injected all the romance of cricket into an otherwise drab, dry yawn of a match. He batted on all 5 days and hit a 6 on each day.
Len Pascoe call Hughes The Fred Astaire of batting.

In the Boxing Day Test,1981, Hughes hooked and pulled bouncers searing into his face with effortless élan hitting an incredible 100 as no one else managed more than 21. This was an innings played against the meanest pace quartet of all, on a devilish pitch

But he could come across as less than tough, not doing half justice to his immense talents, not taking winning seriously enough.

Dazzling onlookers with strokes beyond the capability and imagination of mere mortals, he stepped out to hit fast men over the top, hooked faster ones off his face. He also threw his wicket away to rank long hops, walking off with jaunty steps, not a care in his mind.

To him cricket was to be enjoyed, with a spirit of adventure. That is why he crashed headlong into three men hard as nails, with bared fangs doubling up as wisdom teeth, facial hair characterising the Aussie spirit of their times.

However, in spite of all he suffered from the 3 big men, the lack of bitterness in Hughes was remarkable. When Lillee & Chappell at last churlishly walked out to field on their last Test match morning, Hughes arranged his troops in two rows to applaud them in a guard of honour.

He did mention to Playboy: “If I’ve got teammates like that, I wonder what I’d do for enemies.” But, Hughes was not capable of holding a grudge for long.

When Chappell scampered a third overthrow to go past Bradman, Hughes was at the other end. He switched course, veered diagonally at Chappell and fisted the air as they crossed. Chappell looked merely relieved, sweaty and tired. Hughes looked on seventh heaven.

He is now great friends with both Lillee and Marsh. And very recently. Greg Chappell went on record saying “I don’t say this about a lot of blokes, but I love Kim Hughes. I admire what he’s been through because my life’s been very easy compared with Kim Hughes’s life.”

That was Hughes. A boy from the Australian bushes who never held a grudge. He was born to entertain and do it through some delightful cricket which made him happy and brought smiles to the faces of the onlookers. He was born for cricket, but maybe not in the Australian way.

Perhaps that is why he left captaincy in tears and made for South Africa as a rebel.
The talent and attractiveness of his batting lie buried under the mediocre average of 37.41, encompassing 4,415 runs in 70 Tests that saw him score 9 hundreds.

Yet, from his batting to his smile, the spring in his step and the glint in his eye even in phases of immense pressure, mark him out as someone distinct, someone special.
He played for the smiles and happiness, runs and wickets were by-products.
Not the other way around.