Phillip Hughes: A small-town prodigy

Phillip Hughes' death shocked the nation and made headlines around the world. Photo / Getty Images

On the streets of Phillip Hughes's home town on Australia's east coast, he is remembered with a mix of fondness and frustration as the quiet left-handed kid whom nobody could get out.

The tragic death of the 25-year-old son of a banana farmer shocked the nation and made headlines around the world, but it was greeted with an outpouring of personal sorrow and stunned disbelief in the small riverside town of Macksville, where Hughes learnt to play by hitting tennis balls tied to pieces of string.

Thousands are expected to pay tribute to the batsman at his funeral in Macksville today, many who will watch the funeral from overflow areas at a nearby sports field.

At the local ex-servicemen's club, whose team Hughes played for as a junior, a group of his fellow aspiring cricketers nursed beers and recalled with wonder the feats of their boyhood mate who went on to represent Australia. It was in the parks and backyards of this sleepy town of 3000 people, about 434 km north of Sydney, that Hughes emerged as an uncannily talented batsman.

Known as the East Street Warriors after the street where they lived and played, Hughes, his older brother, Jason, and their close group of friends devoted almost all their spare time to cricket, including a weekly 'Friday night special' where they would set up spotlights in the garden and play until 2am. Hughes quickly became known for his genial temperament, his steely determination and his prodigious abilities.

"One back-yard game, we decided that if you hit the clothes line pole, it was worth 50 runs," said Rick Laverty, 30, a fellow back-yard player who now fixes local power lines.

"Phil hit it three times in one innings. It was incredible. Before we knew it, he was on 150 runs."

It was these frequent makeshift games on East Street that are believed to have spawned Hughes' unusual left-hand batting style, which favoured his off side and included a notoriously dangerous cut shot. In the back yard, he was the only left-hander on a makeshift field that favoured right-handers: if he hit it too hard on his leg side, he would break a row of glass windows.

"He couldn't go to the leg side or there was trouble to be had for all of us," said Anthony Miles, 41, a long-time family friend.

"We could make up our own rules because it was back-yard cricket but there weren't enough rules to get him out. It became boring after a while because he just kept batting."

By the age of 12, Hughes had started to play in local competitions against adult opponents who ran up against the same problem. His abilities, and his quiet, friendly nature, quickly became known in and around Macksville.

Gary Smith, 45, a local security worker who was almost 20 years older than Hughes, recalled playing against him when the future opener was about 12 and by far the smallest player on the ground. Smith's team, from the nearby town of Bowraville, played two games against Macksville's ex-servicemen's team but were never able to dismiss Hughes, who was not much taller than the stumps.

"We couldn't get him out," Smith recalled. "We had to get the rest of the team out to get past him. He was only a little fella playing against all these big fellas. It didn't matter how we bowled. I remember we tried bowling faster but it just meant he hit it harder. I don't think he actually scored that many runs, but we just couldn't get him out."

Another of those who came up against him, Todd Bartlett, 44, a telecommunications worker, recalled: "You'd move a player in the outfield, and he [Phil] would just hit the ball wherever the player just was. Then you'd move the player again, and he'd just do it again."

But Smith adds a refrain repeated endlessly across the town: despite his obvious talents, Hughes was quiet, humble and unassuming. His temperament was in stark contrast to his flamboyance on the pitch and he showed none of the swagger that has become something of a trademark of the Australian team in recent years.

"He never put himself above the rest of the team," Smith said. "He was quiet. He never bragged, wasn't cocky. He just did his job at the crease and batted all day." Smiling, he added: "He didn't have to say anything. We couldn't get him out." As his cricketing talents became apparent, Hughes, then a teenager, left his family and home town for Sydney and was soon touring the world with the Australian team and playing county cricket in England and the Indian Premier League.

But he frequently returned to Macksville. He would visit his family and help his father, Greg, on the banana farm, where he claimed he learnt the value of hard, repetitive work.

With his cricketer's wages, he recently bought a 90-hectare cattle-stud farm on the outskirts of town for the family to share, calling it "408", because he was the 408th person to play Test cricket for Australia.

"He was like everyone's little brother - I think that is why his Australian team-mates are finding it so hard," said Miles, who now works as a travel agent.

"He didn't like the limelight. He was very humble and very respectful and very caring of his family. When Phil met someone, he wanted to earn their respect first - the game came second."

Despite Hughes's unorthodox style, his boundless natural talents were obvious to all aside, perhaps, from himself. He sought advice and practised relentlessly, first with his ball on a string in the back yard, next with a ball machine in the nets in the park across from his house, then with teachers and professional coaches. His friends would turn up at his house and hear the "knock, knock, knock" of Hughes practising. Later, he tried yoga and studied the routines of professionals in other sporting codes.

His parents, Greg and Virginia, strongly supported his career and would spend hours helping him with the ball machine in the nets or driving him across the country for matches. His father once said he was happy to do so "because Phil always said thank-you".

Three days after he was struck at the Sydney Cricket Ground by the bouncer which killed him, the signs of Hughes's loss are evident throughout Macksville.

A native waratah plant now hangs on the nets in which he used to practise, bunches of flowers have been left outside the home of his family home, and makeshift tribute books have been placed in local shops. Hughes's school, Macksville High School, said it had offered counselling to staff and students.

"Phillip was held in very high regard by the staff and admired by the students for the qualities that brought his cricketing success -persistence, sportsmanship and hard work," said a spokesman.

At the town's two pubs, friends, neighbours and family members have been gathering to share their memories and their grief.

In the Nambucca Hotel, Simon Donovan, 37, said that the crowd in the pub broke into tears when news emerged on Thursday afternoon that Hughes had died.

"There was not a dry eye in the place," he said. "We were all crying. It is just such a traumatic loss. His whole family are really nice. I am shocked - we are all shocked."

At the century-old pub, The Star, Craig Mattick, 34, a chef who knew Hughes, said the family would regularly stop in together when they were all in town.

"He was a good bloke," he said. "He was just one of the boys."

Hughes's home state of New South Wales is preparing to hold a state funeral, but private vigils in his home town have already begun and will continue for years. Near his old cricket nets, a teenager sat on his front lawn in front of a makeshift shrine consisting of a bat and the state team's blue baggy cap.

Miles, one of the family's old friends, said the death would not be real "until his family comes back [from Sydney] and Phil is not coming with them".

"People are saying that cricket won't be the same - for us, home won't be the same," he said.

"We know that he was a cricketer and he was a good bloke. Now he won't get the chance to be anything else."