If you turned on the telly over the weekend, you might have seen Marnus Labuschagne facing off against South Africa in the first of a three-Test series. (Australia may have won but it was all over in just two days – for some, a Test cricket tragedy.)
The 28-year-old has risen to become one of the new stars of Australian cricket, first making the team in late 2018, proving himself as Steve Smith’s understudy at the 2019 Ashes and famously achieving a whopping 215 against New Zealand in 2020. He’s now a fixture at the top of the batting order.
Cricket has been a lifelong pursuit for Labuschagne, who has been in the nets since his under-12s days. So getting his own baggy green was, understandably, a very big moment. Four and a bit years on, he has never washed the cap. Here, Labuschagne tells us why that hat feels irreplaceable – even if technically it is not – as well as the story of two other important personal belongings.
What I’d save from my house in fire
For me, the one thing in my house that isn’t replaceable is my baggy green. Sure, you could call up Cricket Australia and get them to stitch up a new one, but that baggy green would never be the same. It is irreplaceable. It’s the one I’ve worn with pride every Test in the most amazing four-year period of my life. My baggy green is number 455 and it was presented to me by Mike Hussey on 7 October 2018, when I made my Test debut for Australia against Pakistan in the UAE.
Since that day, it hasn’t been washed once. Literally, not once.
It’s been around the world with me from Dubai to England, Pakistan, Sri Lanka and all across Australia. Soaked into the scratchy green wool is hundreds and hundreds (probably thousands, if I’m honest) of hours of sweat, tears, sunscreen, change room celebrations and camaraderie. It’s been in my hand while I’ve stood, shoulder to shoulder with my mates, belting out the Aussie national anthem and it’s been wedged on my head when we’ve sung the team song after retaining the Ashes in England in 2019.
My baggy green represents everything I dreamed of doing as a kid and it’s the culmination of thousands of hours (probably hundreds of thousands, if I’m honest) in the nets training to be the best cricketer I can be. It’ll be something I hope to one day hand down through my family. So you can bet if there’s a fire, it’s the first thing I’m grabbing.
My most useful object
Probably my coffee machine, the La Marzocco Linea Mini. It feels like a bit cliche to love coffee these days; “Of course you love coffee, everyone loves coffee”. But I don’t just love coffee for the taste of it.
Let me explain: in a few areas of my life, my pursuit of improvement and perfection – well, as close as I can get to that concept – has become an obsession. It’s been pretty helpful in improving my cricket. While some people love the outcome of scoring runs and winning games in big moments, which I also love, I feel just as much satisfaction in spending hours in the nets, tinkering away on subtle tweaks to my batting technique, improving my bowling and fielding and thinking about every aspect of the game. My game and everyone else’s game. I love the process and I love the art of doing things as best as I can and, in my life, cricket and coffee are two things that fit squarely into this category.
My interest in coffee started when I received a coffee machine for my 21st birthday. Since then, I’ve gone down the coffee rabbit hole, especially in these past few years. I’ve done my barista course and I’ve now explored hundreds of different bean options, alternative milks and coffee equipment, all in pursuit of the perfect coffee.
And I’ll get there – watch this space!
These days, I like to think of myself as the head barista of the Australian cricket team (sorry boys). On every tour, the La Marzocco machine comes with us, along with 50kg of beans and a few slabs of milk. You can bet we go through all of it.
The item I most regret losing
Let me paint the picture for you. I’m sitting in the change rooms at the Gabba after the opening Test of the Aussie summer against England last year. We’ve won early on day four and the spirits are high.
I follow my usual routine: do some media, say hi to some fans, sing the team song, grab a few cold beverages with the guys, shower, change and go to put my wedding ring back on. But wait, where is it?
Over the years, I’ve developed a rhythm of removing it, putting it somewhere safe (front pocket of the cricket bag) and then putting it back on after the game or training. Practice, repetitiveness and routine are things I think I do quite well. But it’s not here this time around. “Not to worry,” I tell myself. “I must have just left it in the car this time, as it’s a home game.” I check the car and it’s not there. “Ah well, it’ll show up eventually,” I convince myself. “Soon,” I hope.
Over the course of the next week or so, I just expected it to show up somewhere, but it never has. There’s still part of me that believes that one day in the Gabba change rooms it’ll just show up. Until then, I’ve got a replacement ring that does the job, but in the same sentimental vein as the baggy green, it’s just not quite the same as the original. If anyone finds it, there’s a free bat or 10 awaiting them.
