Opinion Lillee and Thomson: Decades on, an enduring metaphor for inevitable destruction

He referred to the lethality of the Australian pace bowling duo of the 1970s and 1980s, Dennis Lillee and Jeff Thomson, and quoted perhaps the most iconic line about their greatness: “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, if Thommo don’t get ya, Lillee must.”

It was a line that first appeared in a Sydney Daily Telegraph cartoon caption during the 1974-75 Ashes, and it went on to become an Aussie anthem and a chant during the series.

Speed, swing, kill, verbals

Lillee and Thomson, a study in contrasts, blew apart England, who were playing under the auspices of Marylebone Cricket Club (MCC), 4-1 in the six-Test bout.

Thomson, a shock of long blonde hair, clean-shaven face, and catapult action attended with the heaviest grunt in the game, grabbing 33 wickets at 17.93. His partner in the kill, Lillee, his near-Jheri curls bouncing the breeze, his action sculpted in cricketing heaven, grabbed 25 at 23.84.

But as it often happens with sport, it’s not so much about the numbers as it is about the chilling terror they whipped up.

Lillee and Thomson were men of varied dispositions.

Thomson, the first ever to clock 160 kph according to records, was quicker, wickedly so, and wilder. But he was no artless tearaway as he seamed the ball into the right-handed batsman at unnerving pace. He purchased devilish bounce from not-a-particularly-high release point. He broke bones, teeth, and stumps, and became a byword for terror.

Off the field, he was a gentle, amiable figure with a crackling laugh.

Lillee had his action remodelled and pace reduced after vertebral surgery. But what he compromised for longevity, he made up with his cunning and his persona.

Tall and broad-shouldered with eyes of a desert fire, and a thick, drooping moustache that became a signifier of Baggy Green machismo, Lillee imposed on the field. He seamed the ball both ways at lively pace, and deployed the short ones with devastating dazzle.

Without the ball in his hand, he wound up the opposing batsmen with his dry humour. He was combative, and would not shrink from getting into fisticuffs with the batsman. He met his match in Pakistan’s wind-up merchant Javed Miandad, with whom he came to blows at the WACA, his home-ground, in 1981, after the Pakistani virtuoso collided with him while completing a single. Whether it was deliberate remains unknown.

When in the mood, Thomson didn’t refrain from verbal jousts either.

England had recalled Colin Cowdrey for the Ashes and the legendary batsman, then 42 years old, congenially introduced himself to Thomson. He was taken aback by the bowler’s response.

The story, in Thomson’s words: “As I handed my hat to the umpire, I was revved up and just wanted to kill somebody and Kipper walked all the way up to me and said: ‘Mr Thomson I believe. It’s so good to meet you.’ And I said: ‘That’s not going to help you, Fatso, now piss off.’”

Even with mere words, “if Lillee did not get ya, Thommo must.”

It was war, Thommo said

Describing to The Sydney Morning Herald his new-ball spell with Lillee in the first Test at the Gabba, Thomson himself referred to the series as “war”.

England had stirred the vipers’ pit by bowling short to Lillee at the end of Australia’s innings. The story goes that after Lillee perished hooking and falling over, England all-rounder Tony Greig taunted him, saying a shower might help cool the heat. Lillee, infuriated, shot back: “Just remember who started this.”

In the dressing room, Lillee kept mumbling to himself. Captain Ian Chappell wondered what he was going on about, but was happy that his lead bowler was in a rageful mood. Lillee told Chappell: “Just remember who started this: those bastards. But we’ll finish it.”

When the England batsmen arrived, Lillee was already on the ground, standing at the top of his run-up, tossing the ball in his hand. Chappell sensed the intensity and energy, and asked Thomson to share the new ball with Lillee.

“Mate, it was full-on war,” Thomson said, “and we gave it to them”.

The two fast men subjected the England batsman to an ordeal of the most brutal scale. Thomson cracked the thumb of Dennis Amiss, and Lillee broke the hand of John Edrich and battered the chest of captain Mike Denness.

“For the next few overs,” said Chappell, “I looked on in awe.” Wicketkeeper Rodney Marsh leapt to claim a Thomson bouncer, and then started wringing his hand in pain. “Hell, that hurt,” he said to Chappell, “but I love it.”

The aura that endures

Over the years, there came more frightening fast bowling partnerships. There was the Caribbean quartet, Clive Lloyd’s four horsemen of the apocalypse: Michael Holding, Andy Roberts, Joel Garner, and Colin Croft. There was the South African trio of Dale Steyn, Morne Morkel, and Vernon Philander — an axis as fearsome as any. And there were the famous duets — none more magically deceptive than Wasim Akram and Waqar Younis of Pakistan.

But none of these partnerships could match the aura of the Australia pair, because few matched the personalities of Lillee and Thomson — a combination of skill, character, feistiness and courage.

Four decades after they last played together, Lillee and Thomson remain a metaphor for inevitable destruction — as the resonance of Lt Gen Ghai’s words in India showed this week.