By Justin Langer
Justin Langer scored extra centuries than Ian Chappell, Doug Walters, or invoice Lawry and had a greater standard than Mark Taylor, David Boon, or Mark Waugh but lived virtually each second of his glittering attempt profession as though it used to be his final. during this intimate and from time to time poignant account, Langer appears to be like again at the team, locker room antics, and onfield triumphs which made up his 105-Test innings as a member of 1 of the game's maximum groups. Peer backstage to relive the evening they soaked the English locker rooms at Lords in beer, the hour of darkness frolic round the SCG of their underpants and saggy eco-friendly caps, and the Caribbean dinner which price the Australian Cricket Board $16,000. What used to be it prefer to face the barrage of the West Indies and Pakistan assaults at their top, who was once the easiest bowler he ever confronted, and why did an Adelaide pool desk aid Shane Warne hone his flipper. It's a trip from the world's nice cricket grounds to the poorest components of the sub-continent, Africa, and the West Indies, and the luxuries of a feted wearing champion to the day Matthew Hayden arrived in India with a fuel range in his cricket bag. learn the way meditation and martial arts helped him conflict his continual worry of failure and skim first-hand snippets from formative years sweetheart Sue Langer who shines a distinct mild on lifestyles as a cricketer's spouse.
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Additional resources for Australia You Little* Beauty: Inside Test Cricket's Dream Team
This work is not an "imaginary autobiography," though it takes some slight liberty with a few scenes and names. But "veracity"? I know something of the cunning of desire, duplicity of memoration. Against these, we can only summon the will to authenticity, in mutual trust. Page xi Acknowledgments The first chapter of this work appeared, rather differently, in the Kenyon Review (Summer 1983) and the second appeared, in an earlier, shorter form, in SubStance 37/38 (Winter-Spring 1983). My appreciation endures for the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee and for the Vilas Trust Estate: their support has made this, as earlier, writing an integral part of my work.
She was pretty, vain of her youth as a mother, tight this side of parsimony, less curious than my father and less eager to please. She prized ambition more than learning, honored tenacity in the world. What, then, did I receive from her? A certain grimness of purpose? Or did I come to value what she disprized: knowledge, generosity in all its forms? And why must we obscurely pit parent against parent, and so violate our trust, our life? As for my uncles, they were an outrageous bunch, more truculent on my father's side; spendthrift and ge- Page 20 nial, rather unlike my mother, on hers.
Walter Benjamin Reflections Page 1 1 Beginnings and Ends On a burning August afternoon in 1946, brisk wind and salt of the Mediterranean on my lips, I boarded the Abraham Lincoln at Port Said and sailed from Egypt, never to return. My father gave me a gold Movado wristwatch, and waved me goodbye from a bobbing white launch. I waved back, not daring to shout or speak. Churning tugs nosed the battered Liberty Ship into the seaways. I saw the town, the minarets, the high cupola of the Compagnie de Suez, recede.