What Happened in Australia?

I'm always rather open in this blog of mine but one topic I haven't touched on since it happened was the poisoned chalice of my trek to Australia...

If you look back into the archives here you'll see me agonising over a decision on whether or not to go to Australia on a six month cricket contract. In most people's worlds, it's a no brainer. Back in September 2013, at the meagre age of 22, I got an email out of the blue asking me to go to a Victorian suburb called Lysterfield, to play cricket and generally enjoy the trip of a lifetime. One month on from winning my own club's best 1st XI batsman award, I would be going to another country to start again. Not only that, but the flights were free and I had somewhere to stay for the entirety.

At a time when my life was drifting and I was struggling to work out a route, this opportunity just arose from nowhere. It was a dream come true.

I still had a decision to make though, as I knew it wasn't going to be easy. My brain was still fragile and travelling to the other side of the world on my own was never going to be plain sailing regardless of how amazing it sounded. However, after much persuasion, I went. 

Late September 2013, I travelled to Heathrow Airport at 5 in the morning to catch a flight to Abu Dhabi and then on to Melbourne. Even the flight was a new experience for me, but the excitement of what lay ahead got me through the gruelling 24 hour flight.

Eventually I landed. Going through Australian border control took a lifetime, but as I walked into the main lounge of the airport I noticed two guys holding a photo of me. I recognised them from their social media profiles.

I was here.

They asked me if I was nervous and I merely scoffed and said, "Of course not!" I was trying to put on a front, presuming they'd be hard hitting, banter throwing Australian lads.

In reality, I was bricking it.

It was a 45 minute drive across Melbourne and into the suburbs as we reached Lysterfield Cricket Club, a few blocks away from the set of Australian soap, Neighbours. I got out the car, banging my head on the boot lid as I did so, and walked into the clubhouse where there was a ring of members all waiting to greet me. As I went around the group, shaking hands, I noticed Dan, the guy I'd be staying with, along with his parents Greg and Diane. Everyone was so nice. We shared a few drinks before we drove the short journey to Dan's house.

It was your classic Aussie abode. A huge single storey house, with a pool and a well kept garden and a dog who's name slips my mind. I didn't last long before crashing to my sleep. It had been a long couple of days.

I came round at some point in the afternoon, weary from the jet lag as I was shown around the town by Dan. There wasn't a lot to it. Mostly fields, the cricket club of course, a 7/11 and a mall. Most of the Aussie lads were in AFL Grand Final mode, the showpiece Aussie Rules football event. The day after, we rocked up at someone's house to watch the game and sink as many drinks as we could.

That was the first and only time I would get drunk in Australia.

A couple of days later was the first training session with the squad I would be playing with. I got the impression everyone was expecting me to bat like the next Kevin Pietersen, but in the match practice, I got out three times in the space of two overs. It was a little bit embarrassing, but I put it down to the jet lag and moved on.

Except from that point, I never did move on. I'd been in Melbourne, (or at least 40 minutes away from it) for four days now and the inevitable feelings of homesickness had kicked in. Everyone gets homesick so far away from home on their own, but my complete lack of knowledge and coping skills left me completely high and dry. I had to force myself to leave the comfort of my bedroom and all the feelings of depression had come flooding back. I had panic attacks in the middle of the night and spent most of my waking hours nervously looking over my shoulder, talking to myself and experiencing the worst anxiety attacks I've experienced to date.

At first I tried to fight it. I knew this would happen, as I read and re-read the letter I'd written myself before I left.

"You will feel homesick but this will pass."

"You may feel anxious but give yourself time."

"You may feel depressed but talk to someone."

All of it became impossible. I was on my own, 10,000 miles away with no-one to turn to. I could barely talk to my own Mum at home about my feelings, how on Earth would I be able to talk to a no nonsense Aussie who I barely know? I was way out of my depth.

It all went downhill drastically. I went out for a walk to try and clear my head, not stopping until I realised I had no idea where I was. At complete breaking point, I spent the remainder of the Australian dollars in my wallet to hail down a cab to take me to the nearest hospital where I broke down completely.

I would never go back to Lysterfield.

After a night of calming down and soul searching, I decided the only thing I could do was go home. I asked Diane to bring my belongings to the hospital and then take me to the airport. She was very understanding and I almost thought that I should have told her everything from the start, but I was in too deep now. I never said goodbye to Dan or any of the cricket guys.

I simply bought the first ticket available to London, in tears after what I considered to be another failure, and fled. Another 24 hour flight later, this time via Dubai, and I was back on my doorstep. It was about midday as I knocked on the door and could see my Mum approaching it. I never told them I was returning.

Her face was full of sadness and disappointment and I had this horrendous feeling that I had let her down. But that was nothing compared to the absolute fire and rage that came from Dad as he walked in from work that evening. I had never seen him so apoplectic with rage before and I can comfortably say that I haven't since. I could understand if he was disappointed like Mum, but his sheer and unbridled anger made me literally wee myself. He didn't speak to me for days.

Do I regret going? That week was one of the worst and extreme weeks of my life but I don't regret going one bit. I often think back to those days and wonder what would go through my head now if I never went in the first place. I'm not sure I could have handled the regret in saying no. Getting a six month cricket contract in Australia at the height of summer was something I never thought would happen to me. It was beyond my wildest dreams. You know when you sleep at night, scenarios go through your mind like stopping a mass murderer and becoming a national hero or winning the lottery. Crazy things that'll never happen. This trip never even made those thoughts. That's how special it was.

I resent the illness that caused that trip to come to an abrupt and ugly end. A couple of friends have done the same trip since. To Sydney and Perth and have enjoyed a complete and fulfilling journey and part of me is jealous. Jealous that the only memories I can share are hideous. Yet part of me takes that experience and learns from it. Part of me thinks it made me a better man.

For weeks after I got home, I received threats from the players at the club who wanted to be reimbursed for leaving them after a week. I could understand where they were coming from, but I began to ignore them after they got nasty and personal and eventually they went quiet. In that time, it reminded me how very far away they all are and that I was in no danger whatsoever.

Very. Far. Away.