IThere is one word applied to every major Anglo-Australian Test series, and to the gargantuan age-long cricket rivalry in general, and that is ‘epic’. 2019, 2005, 1981. 1932–33 … All have been labeled in countless headlines and ghostwritten memoirs, and rightly so. But when journalists, pundits and players describe the Ashes as ‘epic’, they mean that only in a general sense. They are not claiming that this beloved biennial festival of cricket is literally reminiscent of the foundational texts of classical literature, Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey. That’s a shame, because in a strange way it is.
Whenever a new Ashes clash approaches, and especially in the immediate run-up to the series, speculation will arise about what will happen when the very first ball of the first Test is bowled. Moreover, from press box to pub, from Bristol to Brisbane, the question will inevitably be asked whether that first ball will dictate the tone of the entire series.
Will we see a Michael Slater moment, an echo of Phil DeFreitas’ imperious clubbing through the Australian opener to the border in 1994? Or a Zak Crawley special from 2023, when he knocked Pat Cummins into the fence? Or will a fast bowler do a 2006 Harmy and spray a shiny new Kookaburra straight to second slip? Will a hitter hear the dreaded death rattle when he gets hit around the legs, like what happened to Rory Burns in 2021? Will someone find a brand new way to be immortalized in Ashes history on day one, Ball One, for better or for worse?
What makes all these moments epic in the formal sense of the word? It’s because the world’s most famous teller of epic stories, Homer, had a penchant for being the literary equivalent of a first-baller. The two great heroic poems attributed to him are gigantic undertakings: The Iliad consists of 15,693 lines of ancient Greek verse, while The Odyssey has 12,110 lines. And yet, as colossal and compelling as they are, in both cases the overarching theme of the mammoth story is succinctly and eerily summarized in the poem’s opening words.
The Iliad begins with month (“mean“), meaning wrath or anger, which perfectly summarizes the subsequent story of the greatest Greek warrior Achilles and his actions (and inaction) at a key point in the Trojan War. Early in the story, after his honor is belittled by his commander Agamemnon, Achilles withdraws from the fighting and broods in his tent, bringing his own side to the brink of defeat. How annoyed is he? Imagine Ricky Ponting after being run off by Gary. Pratt and multiply it by 10,000. Then, after his comrade/friend/cousin/lover Patroclus decides to wear the armor of Achilles to frighten the enemy and is killed, the great man finally returns to battle in furious vengeance to kill the Trojan champion Hector. Twenty-four books and over 15,000 lines, all neatly reduced to that one noun, wrath.
Is there an Ashes equivalent? Mitchell Starc’s destruction of Rory Burns’ stumps in 2021 is a contender, with a hint of revenge after England’s 2019 heroics, and sets the tone for a series that has decisively disrupted any bragging rights for Australia. But for the most epic example of cricketing fury, we must surely zoom out from the opening balls to consider the overall contribution of another Mitchell… this time Johnson.
The moustachioed Aussie Quick must have felt dishonored during the 2010-2011 series, when his wayward accuracy on home turf in 2010-2011 led to an infamous mockery by the Barmy Army (“He bowls to the left, he bowls to the right, That Mitchell Johnson, his bowling is shite”). After nearly four years of brooding and brooding over that humiliation, his return to action in 2013-14 was completely worthy of Achilles as he terrorized England’s batting order, finishing with run figures of 37 wickets at an average of 13.97, handing Australia a 5-0 whitewash and earning himself the 2014 ICC Test Player of the Year award. A truly Iliadic performance.
What about the other epic attributed to Homer, The Odyssey? This later poem (unsurprisingly) tells the story of the king of Ithaca, Odysseus – he was famous during the Trojan War – and the ten years he spent battling monsters, the elements and the wrath of the god Poseidon on his journey home to his wife Penelope. The opening words this time are man (Other), which means man, and again it neatly summarizes the themes at play: unlike the Iliad’s struggle between great personalities, the Odyssey is the story of a single protagonist; and more than that: it’s an exploration through a panoply of fantastic and awe-inspiring adventures of what it takes to be a man.
Can we attribute this to the Ashes? In terms of first balls, you could argue that every opening bowler and batsman who opens proceedings in the greatest of all cricket battles deserves hero status. The ancient Greeks may be less kind and hope only glory for those who manage to excel at that totemic moment: so Starc, Crawley and Slater would qualify, Harmy and Burns not so much.
But there is another word in the first line of the Odyssey that is very instructive and immediately makes you think about the most appropriate cricket equivalent. Odysseus is not just a man, he is one multivariable (pollution) man. Classicists love to struggle with the translation of this adjective: some render it as ‘cunning’, others prefer to opt for ‘complicated’. Simon Goldhill, professor of Greek literature at the University of Cambridge, has gone so far as to suggest that the closest English equivalent is ‘tricky bastard’. In other words, he’s a smart, cunning pig who always finds a way.
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Who from the pantheon of Ashes heroes is most deserving of this accolade? A strong candidate is Mike Brearley, not because he is classically trained, but because of his ability to get the best out of his comrades and serially outmaneuver the enemy. If The Odyssey is a story of brains over brawn, then Brearley’s performance in leading England to victory in 1981 fits in well. In contrast, Ian Botham’s glorious performances in that series with both bat and ball, after being stripped of the captaincy, are absolutely Achillean (perhaps this helps explain why the exploits of that famous series still resonate so strongly – it was a victory of the head and heart).
But there is another warrior who stands above Brearley and all the others as the cricket king of Ithaca. Cunning, complicated, difficult bastard – these epithets all fit him like a glove. To find its identity, we just have to look at that word again multivariable but this time to translate it literally. In its most basic sense, it means “the man of many twists and turns.” That should certainly leave no room for discussion. We can argue about who is the Achilles of cricket, but the Odysseus has to be Shane Keith Warne. The only pity is that he never got to bowl the first delivery of a series. That would have been truly epic.
By the way, it is ironic that this oft-used adjective ‘epic’ carries so much power, since it is derived from a little Greek word: epic (“epic“), which simply means word. Film director Christopher Nolan is spending an estimated $250 million to bring his version of The Odyssey to the big screen. From minuscule to grand. But who should wait for that? When the first ball of the Ashes is dropped in Perth on Friday, cricket fans around the world could be in for something Homeric.
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