By Liam Grima, ACS Journalism Scholar (mentored by The Footy Almanac‘s John Harms).
Whenever I put on the baggy blue, or applied the finishing touches of sunscreen to my incredibly pale skin, I always thought that finals were just another game. I could never have been more wrong!
I’ve played in seven cricket grand finals and won six. That one grand final loss was by 12 runs; it’s such a narrow margin. It’s a moment when you were literally fingertips from the silverware and that feeling of joy or misery, when the final wicket falls. They are a game of moments. Emotions run higher and pressure builds faster than ever before. Heroes are made. Legacies are built. That is why finals are not just another game.
Indeed, you need a bit of luck to go your way in finals. It is the nature of cricket really. Getting home and kicking the footy with Dad after school, bouncing tennis balls off the garage wall practising my straight drive, I would always reenact winning that grand final, hoisting that cup, embracing my teammates. Hoping that one day, it would all become a reality.
Heading into the Grand Final as the minor premiers brings a little bit of pressure. Some teams embrace the idea of being the hunted. How can the Mulgrave 2nds embrace such a thing when our batting coming into the finals is the poorest of the top 4? How am I supposed to embrace such a thing when me, batting at 7, have been the second highest run scorer since Christmas? I’m supposed to be just a left arm spinner, not a batsman. James Morris, or as we like to refer to the 53 year old, six foot five club legend, ‘Spider’, was the leading wicket taker in the competition. Jarryd ‘Horse’ Seagrave had looked in ominous touch opening the attack all season. Hugh ‘Winx’ Paulas had found form at the right time. I was confident in our bowling that is for sure.
Mulgrave Cricket Club C TURF Grand Final XI
Back: William Jardine, Dracy Klemm (wk), James Morris, Jarryd Seagrave, Jackson Taylor (c), Deluksha Hettiumulla
Front: Hugh Paulas, Sean Nathan, Liam Grima, Dylan Carmody, Henry Matthews
We had just knocked off the fourth-placed Hawthorn Boroondara team in the semi-final by 100 runs, in a game which was quite literally a rollercoaster of emotions. Spider was relentless. 11/38 for the match, two five-wicket hauls, at 53 years of age is outrageous. Number 5 Dylan Carmody produced a fighting 40 runs in the first innings and a vital 25 in the second when it mattered most. Two-day specialist Henry Matthews had bowled every game for the season with 16 wickets, yet he wasn’t given the ball for the big occasion. There were stories everywhere going into the Grand Final.
I like to think I’m pretty calm and relaxed heading into most games. But that Friday night before, I couldn’t sleep. Rolling around in bed, thoughts racing through my head. How many wickets can I snag? Will I make a run? Please, please, please, do not let me bat before the tea break.
Drinks in the eski, whites all cleaned and cheesymite scrolls packed away, I headed off to the Hills Pantry with the rest of the Mully boys, the number one spot for a game-day feed in the morning. At least I wasn’t the only one with a few nerves.
Two fried eggs on sourdough later, sun out, not a cloud in the sky, Mulgrave Reserve was looking picture perfect as always.
Our captain, Jackson Taylor, had just capped off a stellar 500-run season at 35.6, off the back of a most recent second senior century which saw him blast 107 off 81 balls against La Trobe University in Round 13. Luckily the toss of the coin went his way and he elected to bat first.
2nd XI Captain, Jackson Taylor, preparing for the toss of the coin
Being in charge of the tunes, it was only fitting that “Thunderstruck” was pumping out of the speaker at full blast, as openers Jackson Taylor and William Jardine made their way to the middle. I was praying that they would get us off to the start we needed, having only produced opening partnerships of 1, 19 and 9 in our last three innings. Something had to give at some point.
Burwood’s opening bowler Julian Smith, who claimed a season-best five scalps the last time we met in Round 11, stood at the top of his mark ready and rearing to go. Smithy and I went to the same high school together. Even though he was three years above me, we had crossed paths a few times over the years. If there’s one thing I know about Smithy, you don’t want him to get his tail up, he’ll be sure to let you know about it.
Bowler’s name, scorers ready, the grand final was underway.
Jacko started with a positive approach as per usual, taking seven from the first over. Jards looked in ominous touch also. We raced to 0-12, 0-21, 0-33, as Jacko launched his first major of the day into the trees. A ball change was needed, surely. No one was finding that!
Ball secured and play resumed, in the blink of an eye we had raced to 0-60 after 12 overs. Where had this been the last innings? Unfortunately, a leading edge to point saw the back of our skipper, departing for an important 47 from 38 deliveries. But we had the start we wanted. For the first time in a while we weren’t having to play catch up as our keeper Darcy Klemm strode out to meet Jards.
I had full faith in Darcy. Western Australian born, leader of the club’s master blasters program and coach of our Under 13s, he is the ultimate clubman. Darcy and I were lucky enough to be out in the middle together when we had secured our last flag in D-Turf in 2024. Chasing that same feeling, Darcy was off the mark with his trademark on-drive.
But wickets in quick succession to Burwood’s Samuel Bowden and Jake Miller saw us fall to 3-88. Time for me to get the pads on! Whites ready to go and pads laid out next to my kit, I was happy with where we were at. My only concern was the tea break at 3:10pm. Ideal scenario for me was to come in after tea, hang around, get my eye in, and be there at 70 overs. We were 3-88 after only 28 overs and I was in at seven. I had a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach that I’d be in earlier than that.
Mum had just arrived with her famous homemade cake and scones for afternoon tea. Nan and Pa had just rocked up, making the trip from Torquay. Right in time to watch me bat. No pressure.
In the blink of an eye, number four Sean Nathan fell for 16 off 71, bringing number six batting all-rounder Deluksha ‘D-money’ Hettimulla to the crease. I was next. In my opinion, depending on the situation of the game, the most stressful position you can be in is being next in to bat. Different thoughts rush through your head. The bowler might have his tail up. How is the energy out there? What’s the chatter like? How many balls will it take me to get off the mark let alone make a run?
But as D-money departed for 2, I knew it would come down to me at 5-112. Strolling out there in the 43rd over to meet number five Dylan Carmody, the environment was just as I thought it might be. Smithy and all the boys were in my ear as I left my first ball wide of my off stump.
“It’s on you now Grima,” they would say.
“Weren’t you batting at ten last year?”
“Your captain let you down!”
I made it through to tea unscathed. At 5-117, a bite to eat, a quick chat and a small bit of advice from Dad like every other tea break, the grand final was well and truly in the balance.
Since transitioning from juniors to seniors, I like to think I’ve become quite capable at blocking out the noise and chatter from the opposition. It’s a part of the game. It really does come down to what you can control when you’re out there. What you say can’t stop their momentum, but your actions can. I kept reminding myself to stay present. Get to 120, 125, 130. It really is amazing how quickly a fielding team’s hunger in the field can fade.
Unfortunately, Dylan departed for a hard-fought 22 off 82 balls, and I was joined by Henry Matthews. Henry and I went to high school and graduated together, having played many games of school cricket over the years. Despite the tricky position we were in at 6-129, Henry and I put on a 56-run stand the last time we played Burwood. We were a quietly confident duo whenever we were at the crease together. Something just seemed to click. I was always strategising, planning the innings whenever we spoke in between overs. He would respond by talking about the most random topic.
“Stay present, alright. Get another 5, 10 runs, and we’ll go from there,” I said.
“Yep. So, what are your top three favourite fruits?” he would randomly ask me.
Yet, I kind of preferred it that way with him anyway. You never know what you’re going to get out of Henry. Sometimes it is a little nerve settler batting with someone you know that well.
Shortly after he fell for 6, Hugh Paulas blasted a fiery, but important 17 from 19 balls at number nine, and Spider departed for a duck. The tail was falling. I had managed to scrap to 25. It felt like I had been out there for an eternity. Having used up all my mental energy, I holed out to the man in the deep, bringing our score to 172 from 71 overs. I knew I had played my role. I would’ve loved to get to 200 though. We had been the best bowling side all season. On our home turf, defending 172. It was going to take all eleven of us to get over the line tomorrow.
Bacon and eggs rolls enjoyed, cordial made and covers taken off the wicket, Sunday rolled around before we knew it. Burwood was not to be underestimated by any means. Leading run-scorer Angus Kenny had had a stellar season with 366 runs at 36.6. Opener Charlie Langkau followed with 246 runs at 18.92. The most important wicket was Burwood skipper Cooper McNamara. In past encounters, McNamara had provided vital runs whenever it was needed of him.
When stressed as a kid, you’re always told to search deep, and find your happy place. Mulgrave Reserve is my happy place, and always has been. Liam the junior cricketer would be dialed in, finding any way possible to hype myself up before big games like this. Now, on the contrary, a few deep breaths, cracking a few smiles and jokes, I was just appreciating where I was in the moment. There was nowhere else I’d rather be; my stage, my moment.
Myself fielding in the C Turf Grand Final
Spider took the new ball as always. He’d taken 34 wickets for the season at 7.32. Jarryd followed suit, with 21 wickets of his own. The ball couldn’t have been in better hands. The contest was as we expected it. Fierce and fiery from the get go. Burwood’s Charlie Langkau and Raphael Deane-Jones kicked off proceedings. But the visitors were pushed on the back foot early as a mix up between the openers saw the fast bowlers combine, with Jarryd executing a perfect throw to Spider at the bowler’s end. Deane-Jones was short of his ground. A nerve settler at 1-10. Not long after, leading run-scorer Angus Kenny departed for 5, dismissed by Hughie Paulas with his first ball for the match caught behind, leaving the visitors scrambling at 2-24. Joining Langkau out in the middle at number four was James Ritchie. A classy left hander with a strong defensive skill set, Ritchie looked like he was on a mission. I was planning it out in my head. How am I going to get him out? What can I use to my advantage that can get the better of him. He’ll punish me if I give him any freebies.
As a left arm spinner, one of the biggest components of my game that I’m trying to perfect is my execution to left hand batsmen. I tend to stray down leg. My body tends to fall. I was almost certain that if I was able to take a few handy scalps, our chances of winning were very high. Langkau was playing conservatively. Ritchie had a few more tricks up his sleeve. Langkau was a right-hander, and just continued to find himself at the non-striker’s end. I suppose Ritchie will have to do. I started off positively. Over the wicket to Ritchie, my first over went for a single. I wouldn’t say I had bowled my best over, but it was probably just the nerves in me to start. I came back for my second over to Ritchie. He had adjusted. He was batting more on off stump. I was in two minds. Do I toss one up? Do I come wider of the crease? I couldn’t think properly. I tried to brush it off, but it was one of those times where I just couldn’t find my rhythm. Ritchie had taken me for two fours off his hip, with the score racing to 2-61.
“Hit the rubbish,” I heard one of them shout.
“Have a spell, Grim,” another one said.
Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be. I didn’t want to think of what it would be like winning. I didn’t dare think of what it would be like losing. I went pretty flat after my three-over spell. I knew that I’d let us down with ball in hand. 111 more for victory, and Burwood were premiers. Langkau and Ritchie had taken complete control of the innings.
Drinks couldn’t have come at a better time. We still felt ahead in the game. Just a few more wickets and we had them. Jacko brought us in for the occasional huddle as he always does.
“We’ve talked about it all year,” he said, “they are allowed to play better cricket than us, it’s how we respond that matters.”
He was right. These next few overs were critical. I knew I hadn’t done my job with the ball. However, I’ve played enough cricket to know that it’s a funny game. It can change in an instant. It was a grand final. Who was going to bob up? Someone had to take over. As we walked out after drinks, there seemed to have been a built realisation within the group that this was the moment. The ball swung back into Jarryd’s hands. Making the move from Mazenod Old Collegians Cricket Club to join Mulgrave for the 2025/26 season, he was a ferocious right arm quick. You always knew he was up for the fight when he came charging in at the top of his mark with that competitive look in his eyes. In every team, there’s always the one person that thrives under pressure. The one that is comfortable with the ball in their court. Jarryd was the man for the moment.
Opening bowler Jarryd Seagrave celebrates with teammates after making the crucial breakthrough
Eleven overs until tea, Jarryd is steaming in to Ritchie, leading edge caught by Jards at cover. The breakthrough we were after. If anyone could, it was Jarryd. As Ritchie departed for a well made 24, the skipper Cooper McNamara made his way to the crease. He was unconventional, but smart. From past encounters, he had always been really shaky in his first few overs at the crease. I had a feeling he would give us a sniff early on. Powering in like a steam boat, Jarryd bowled to McNamara, thumped into the pads. Fielding at point, I was up immediately. It was close, but not close enough according to the umpire. Was that our opportunity missed? Jarryd, more determined than ever, came in for the final ball of the over. Cut away to point by McNamara, caught by a diving Dyl Carmody in the gully. I could barely contain my excitement that I rushed right over to Dyl. Burwood had fallen to 4-63 on the verge of tea. But Jarryd was not done there. The middle order of James Blackman and Jake Miller were unable to hold up against the ruthlessness of Jarryd, taking two more quick scalps. Incredibly, Burwood were sent into the tea break at 6-67. We had completely flipped the game on its head. I can’t remember a time in all my years playing cricket where one person has been able to flip the script like that, let alone do it in a grand final when it was needed most. Jarryd headed into the main break with a well-earned 4-14 from 18 overs. I knew we still had work to do. But, with 4 wickets in hand, 103 more runs required and the tail exposed, there was no way we could lose it from here.
We had been the best bowling side all season and we had rightfully shown it. Henry claimed our seventh wicket an over after the tea break, with a trapped in front LBW. Hughie Paulas finally got his man in Langkau who had been out there the whole time, departing for 29 off 165 balls. Smithy and fellow Burwood opening bowler, Benjamin Giudice were next in line. I hadn’t actually seen Smithy bat before believe it or not. I assumed he was just a typical tail-ender batting at nine. The same for Giudice. At 8-75, it was over to the two of them to do the heavy lifting. We got the perfect start after tea, it was now all about maintaining that composure in the field. Yet we just couldn’t seem to break the partnership. Our overconfidence in all the work that we had done to get to 8-75 started to come to light as the score was slowly increasing. 8-85, 8-98, 8-113, this game had so much already. In the last few seasons, club coach, Michael Hancock, has continued to instill in the playing group that in finals, the calmest team wins. I’ve been a big believer in that saying. But as Smithy and Giudice continued to find the occasional boundary, every now and then an outside edge behind the wicket, bowling wasn’t the challenge anymore, it was staying composed. Even Jarryd, who continued to be on point all day, couldn’t get it going his way. Spider, who had been the best bowler in the competition all season, still hadn’t found a wicket next to his name. I came back on for a second spell, hoping spin would do the trick. What more could we do?
My Dad has always told me right from the very beginning, whenever I walked out with bat in hand, ‘stay patient, wait for your ball.’ Playing senior cricket has not only been a great challenge, but presented me with many different game scenarios that you train for. Staying patient does not just apply for batting. Staying patient and waiting for that ball is just as important for a fielding side. Letting the batsmen make the mistake. If you stick to your plans long enough, the wickets will come. At 8-131, with victory slowly slipping out of our grasp, a fumble down the leg side from wicketkeeper, Darcy Klemm, saw Giudice slow off his mark after a late call of yes from Smithy. Fielding at my usual position at point, I knew this was the match defining moment. We would only get one shot at this. With a calm, cool and collected head, Darcy picked up, gathered and delivered a pinpoint throw to Spider at the bowler’s end, who quickly clipped the stumps right in time, breaking the 56-run stand. The umpire raised his finger. There is an uproar of emotion and ecstasy, but more importantly, belief. Giudice departed for 34, leaving Smithy to finish the fairytale comeback. Smithy wasn’t going down without a fight that’s for sure, propelling the visitors to 9-158, inches away from premiership glory.
Yet, it was only fitting that Jarryd Seagrave would put the icing on the cake. With a back of a length slower ball to Burwood’s Samuel Bowden, catching the top edge of the bat to fall safely into the gloves of Darcy Klemm, which would cap off one of the most heart stopping grand finals.
The Mulgrave 2nd XI celebrating premiership glory
I ran straight over to Darcy, all much the same as our previous premiership with each other. It’s my sixth cricket premiership. I could not contain my excitement. That little kid in me continues to shine on through every time. It’s hard to grasp and put into words the feeling of emotions right after the final wicket falls in a grand final like that; relief, excitement, gratitude. It’s as if every worry in your life matters no more. If anything you just want to be surrounded by teammates, friends, family, people who have been there along the journey. My Mum and Dad have been there for every big game, every milestone while my Nan and Pa, have supported whether it’s from close or afar; it means so much. So much work goes into just making the grand final. Winning it truly is the cherry on top.
My Father, Adrian, and I celebrating the 2nd XI premiership
The celebrations had commenced. Shield in one hand, a drink in the other with a medal around my neck, which wouldn’t come off until the next day. It never gets lost on me how grateful I am to have been involved in a number of premierships and successes. Some time had passed, as Henry and I walked back out onto the wicket the same way we had left it two hours ago. Laying down on the wicket, reminiscing about the game, telling old school stories all while ordering the biggest Macca’s meal we could, as premiership teammates.
Teammate Henry Matthews and I out in the middle post-game
As the sun set on another cricket season at Mully, I couldn’t wait to do it all over again. Premierships indeed aren’t guaranteed, but whether it’s cricket season or not, training or game day, Mulgrave Reserve will always be my happy place.
Link to scorecard:
Australian Cricket Society’s literary scholar Liam Grima is mentored by writer John Harms. His pieces are also published at www.footyalmanac.com.au .