Cricket: 'Nugget' Miller Dies, Aged 84; 'Pressure? I'll Tell You What Pressure Is. Pressure Is a Messerschmitt Up Your Arse, Playing Cricket Is Not Keith Miller, Second World War Fighter Pilot and Australian Test Cricketer Who Died Yesterday - The Birmingham Post (England) | HighBeam Research APA "Cricket: 'Nugget' Miller Dies, Aged 84; 'Pressure? I'll Tell You What Pressure Is. Pressure Is a Messerschmitt Up Your Arse, Playing Cricket Is Not Keith Miller, Second World War Fighter Pilot and Australian Test Cricketer Who Died Yesterday." The Birmingham Post (England). MGN Ltd. 2004. Retrieved January 20, 2017 from HighBeam Research: Please use HighBeam citations as a starting point only. Not all required citation information is available for every article, and citation requirements change over time. Cricket: 'Nugget' Miller Dies, Aged 84; 'Pressure? I'll Tell You What Pressure Is.

Pressure Is a Messerschmitt Up Your Arse, Playing Cricket Is Not Keith Miller, Second World War Fighter Pilot and Australian Test Cricketer Who Died Yesterday Browse back issues of this publication by date October 12, 2004 | Copyright Copyright MGN Ltd. This material is published under license from the publisher through the Gale Group, Farmington Hills, Michigan. All inquiries regarding rights or concerns about this content should be directed to Customer Service . Create a link to this page Copy and paste this link tag into your Web page or blog: <a href="" title="Cricket: 'Nugget' Miller Dies, Aged 84; 'Pressure? I'll Tell You What Pressure Is. Pressure Is a Messerschmitt Up Your Arse, Playing Cricket Is Not Keith Miller, Second World War Fighter Pilot and Australian Test Cricketer Who Died Yesterday | HighBeam Research">Cricket: 'Nugget' Miller Dies, Aged 84; 'Pressure? I'll Tell You What Pressure Is.

Pressure Is a Messerschmitt Up Your Arse, Playing Cricket Is Not Keith Miller, Second World War Fighter Pilot and Australian Test Cricketer Who Died Yesterday</a> Byline: Alex Lowe Keith Miller, the Australian all-rounder known as 'Nugget' for the way he illuminated cricket in the post-war era, died yesterday after a period of ill-health. He was 84. Dubbed by Neville Cardus as 'the Australian in excelsis', Miller was a dashing batsman, a fearsome bowler and an instinctive fieldsman who played 55 Test matches as one of the most charismatic cricketers of his generation. He was a member of Don Bradman's Invincibles of 1948 and will probably be remembered and revered as much for his attitude to life as for his new-ball partnership with Ray Lindwall. Bob Merriman, chairman of Cricket Australia, said: 'Keith Miller was a genuine legend, a man whose dashing approach helped cricket regain its place in the public affection after the dark years of the Second World War. … "Doubt lies at the origin of all truth" - Socrates "Judge Wilson, he hates me!"!

- Lionel Hutz "Why?" - Marge Simpson "I kinda run over his dog". - LH "Kinda!?" - MS "Well, if you replace 'dog' with 'boy' and kinda' with 'repeatedly'". - LH "mark too much real world ness what about the vision" - Zak When Rousseu lay dying, a priest burst in telling him that he should renounce the devil and all of his evil works. Upon which Rousseu replied, "This is no time to start making enemies". Wait a minute, it's not funny - it's genocide!' - Ben Law Imanueall KAAANNNTT!!! - Bill Eichler You've slanted my essay! - Ben Law "This Dictionary doesn't seem to have an index in it" - Bill Eichler "There is no point in giving me all this gay innuendo becuase you know you are preaching to the converted" - Bill Eichler "I'll tell you what pressure is...Pressure is having a Messerschmidt up your arse....playing cricket is not" Keith Miller "I am a lover of truth, a worshipper of freedom, a celebrant at the altar of language and purity and tolerance.

That is my religion, and every day I am sorely, grossly, heinously and deeply offended, wounded, mortified and injured by a thousand different blasphemies against it. When the fundamental canons of truth, honesty, compassion and decency are hourly assaulted by fatuous bishops, pompous, illiberal and ignorant priests, politicians and prelates, sanctimonious censors, self-appointed moralists and busy-bodies, what recourse of ancient laws have I? None whatever. Nor would I ask for any. For unlike these blistering imbeciles my belief in my religion is strong and I know that lies will always fail and indecency and intolerance will always perish" - Stephen Fry "From this distant vantage point, the Earth might not seem of any particular interest. But for us, it's different. Consider again that dot. That's here. That's home. That's us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives.

The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every "superstar," every "supreme leader," every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there - on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam. The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that in glory and triumph they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner. How frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds. Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark.

In our obscurity - in all this vastness - there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves. The Earth is the only world known, so far, to harbor life. There is nowhere else, at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. Visit, yes. Settle, not yet. Like it or not, for the moment, the Earth is where we make our stand. It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we've ever known." Carl Sagan "Money is the most terrible thing in the universe. It causes more stress, disputes and wars than religion, which ought to be impossible. " - Charlie Brooker "Naturally, I'm biased. I've instinctively hated the Tories since birth. If there was an election tomorrow, and the only two choices were the Nazis or the Tories, I'd vote Tory with an extremely heavy heart.

In descending order of vehemence, my objections to the Tory species stem from a) everything they do, b) everything they say, c) everything they stand for, d) how they look, e) their stupid names and f) the noises I imagine they make in bed." - Charlie Brooker "I'm always elegant, say anything else and I'll batter you." - Lafiel "In 1832 Britain was within an ace of Revolution" - E. P. Thompson "They lie, remember they lie, they lie, they lie" "Ask The Powerfull five Questions:- 1. What power have you got? 2. Where did you get it from? 3. In whose interest do you exercise it? 4. To whom are you accountable? 5. How can we get rid of you?" - Tony Benn "I don't have a phobia about Tories. That would suggest an irrational response. I hate them for a reason. For lots of reasons, actually. For the miners, apartheid, Bobby Sands, Greenham Common, selling council houses, Section 28, lining the pockets of the rich and hammering the poor – to name but a few. I hate them because they hate people I care about.

As a young man Cameron looked out on the social carnage of pit closures and mass unemployment, looked at Margaret Thatcher's government and thought, these are my people. When all the debating is done, that is really all I need to know." - Gary Younge "A rat race is for rats. We’re not rats. We’re human beings. Reject the insidious pressures in society that would blunt your critical faculties to all that is happening around you, that would caution silence in the face of injustice lest you jeopardise your chances of self promotion and self advancement. This is how it starts and, before you know where you are, you're a fully paid up member of the rat pack. The price is too high. It entails the loss of your dignity and human spirit. Or as Christ puts it 'What does it profit a man if he gains the whole world and forfeits his soul?'" Jimmy Reid [H]umanities graduates in the media, who suspect themselves to be intellectuals, desperately need to reinforce the idea that science is nonsense: because they've denied themselves access to the most significant developments in the history of western thought for 200 years, and secretly, deep down, they're angry with themselves over that.

Ben Goldacre "The aim of science is to make difficult things understandable in a simpler way; the aim of poetry is to state simple things in an incomprehensible way. The two are incompatible." Paul Dirac "Went the day well? We died and never knew But, for good or ill, Freedom - we died for you. "When you go home, Tell them of us and say 'For your Tomorrow These gave their Today' - Simonides - "I spent 33 years and four months in active military service and during that period I spent most of my time as a high class thug for Big Business, for Wall Street and the bankers. In short, I was a racketeer, a gangster for capitalism. I helped make Mexico and especially Tampico safe for American oil interests in 1914. I helped make Haiti and Cuba a decent place for the National City Bank boys to collect revenues in. I helped in the raping of half a dozen Central American republics for the benefit of Wall Street. I helped purify Nicaragua for the International Banking House of Brown Brothers in 1902–1912. I brought light to the Dominican Republic for the American sugar interests in 1916.

I helped make Honduras right for the American fruit companies in 1903. In China in 1927 I helped see to it that Standard Oil went on its way unmolested. Looking back on it, I might have given Al Capone a few hints. The best he could do was to operate his racket in three districts. I operated on three continents." - Smedley Butler" "I have no religion, and at times I wish all religions at the bottom of the sea. He is a weak ruler who needs religion to uphold his government; it is as if he would catch his people in a trap. My people are going to learn the principles of democracy, the dictates of truth and the teachings of science. Superstition must go. Let them worship as they will; every man can follow his own conscience, provided it does not interfere with sane reason or bid him against the liberty of his fellow-men." (Mustafa Kemal Atatürk) "I always say to people, “No one earns $100 million. You steal $100 million.” People earn $10 an hour. People earn $40,000 a year. “Earn” means work. Okay?

It doesn’t mean steal, which with these vast amounts of money, of course you steal them. There’s also the idea in this country, it’s not wholly new, but it’s new in its kind of purity, in that you have to be really smart to be really rich. I always say to people, the reason people believe this is a) they’ve never met a really smart person, and b) they’ve never met a really rich person. I have met both, and I cannot see the crossover. You do not have to be a genius to get rich. You have to be ruthless to get rich." - Fran Lebowitz "Democracy is unstable as a political system as long as it remains a political system and nothing more, instead of being, as it should be, not only a form of government but a type of society, and a manner of life which is in harmony with that type. To make it a type of society requires an advance along two lines. It involves, in the first place, the resolute elimination of all forms of special privilege which favour some groups and depress other, whether their source be differences of environment, of education, or of pecuniary income.

It involves, in the second place, the conversion of economic power, now often an irresponsible tyrant, into a servant of society, working within clearly defined limits and accountable for its actions to a public authority." - R.H. Tawney "One slaveowner, Germany, is fighting another slaveowner, England, for a fairer distribution of the slaves" - Valeiru Marcu "I am ignorant, sir, of your motives or provocations; I only know that you have acted like a man who has cut off his right hand with his left." -Sidonius Apollinaris- Jonathon Delacour: Pressure Jonathon Delacour the heart of things Thursday 11 November 2004 Pressure I had dinner with my friend G and his wife. Earlier that evening I’d called to tell them I’d be 15 minutes late. G’s wife answered the phone. “Where are you?” she asked. “In Stress City,” I replied. Lately, I’ve been under so much pressure that I’ve felt my life steadily unraveling.

I should make a list, I’ve thought to myself on several occasions, of all the situations I’m likely to encounter between now and the end of the year so I can tick them off, one-by-one, as each turns into either a disaster or a catastrophe. When I said this over dinner, G’s wife smiled at me sympathetically. G—one of my closest friends—said: “Remember Keith Miller?” “The cricketer?” I asked. I’m not a cricket fan but my father loved cricket and he held Miller in the highest esteem. Keith Miller died last month, on October 11, at the age of 84. His Cricket Online obituary notes that: Miller was part of Australia’s 1948 tour of England, who later returned hailed as “the Invincibles”, and are recognised by many as the best side ever assembled. My father, were he still alive, would be 85 this year. I was born in 1948, the year of the Invincibles tour.

Miller had been a fighter pilot during World War II and Bill Brown, one of his team mates, recalled: “He was the finest all-rounder I came into contact with—he could bat, bowl, field and he could fly an aeroplane.” “You could bat him anywhere you want to, he was a strong hitter of the ball, he had a very good pair of hands—especially in close—and you could always give him the new ball with confidence. I don’t know a lot about his flying days but I know he flew Mosquitoes and they were in the thick of the action, and I admire him for that very much.” G took a sip of beer and said, “Someone asked Keith Miller whether he ever felt under pressure while playing test cricket. You know what Miller told him?” “What?” I asked. I had no idea. “Pressure, I’ll tell you what pressure is. Pressure is a Messerschmitt up your arse, playing cricket is not.” Wisden - Keith Miller Keith Miller © Getty Images Enlarge MILLER, KEITH ROSS MBE, AM, died on October 11, 2004, aged 84.

He was, Neville Cardus wrote, "Australia in excelsis". Free-spirited, generous, sometimes bloody-minded, altogether bonzer, Miller was the most colourful cricketer of his post-war generation, driving sixes beyond imagination, bowling fearsomely fast and catching with a predatory instinct, playing to and for the crowd. Off the field, his zest for life and natural charm attracted friendship from every quarter, be it country house or street-corner bar. He was, moreover, Hollywood handsome, over six feet tall, broad-shouldered, with dark brown hair worn longer than the times approved. Little wonder women wanted to be with him and men wanted to be him. Associated mainly with New South Wales and captaining them to three successive Sheffield Shield titles, Miller was in fact Melbourne-born and raised. He was named after Australian aviators Keith and Ross Smith who at the time were making the first flight from England to Australia. His hard-hitting batting for South Melbourne led to selection for Victoria Second XI while he was still attending Melbourne High, where Bill Woodfull, the former Australian captain, taught maths.

Miller's earlier dreams of becoming a jockey had been dashed when he grew almost a foot taller in his mid-teens, although those extra inches did give him the physique to star in Australian Rules football for St Kilda and win state honours. Not that the lure of the track ever left him; odds always mattered more than averages. Two months after turning 18, in 1937-38, he made an impressive if restrained first-class debut, scoring 181 (with only five fours) against Tasmania at the MCG. But his Shield debut was held back another two years until 1939-40. He made a century when South Australia came to Melbourne, but war soon took priority over cricket, and in 1942 Miller enlisted in the RAAF, qualifying as a pilot. A stopover in America en route to England led to him meeting his first wife Peg. By night, "Dusty" Miller flew first Beaufighters and then Mosquito fighter-bombers in raids over Germany; on summer days, he played cricket. "Flight Sergeant Keith Miller...

revealed the ability and temperament of a champion and showed every promise of developing into one of Australia's best all-rounders," Wisden forecast in 1944. He had left Australia little more than an occasional bowler. When Lindsay Hassett's Australian Services team set sail for India in 1945, Wisden was rating Pilot Officer Miller "the liveliest opening bowler seen in England during the summer". There were eulogies, too, for his upright, full-flowing batting that had The Times correspondent musing whether Lord's was big enough for his mighty hitting. Unimpressed with Lord's on first sight - a crummy little ground, he thought - he subsequently blessed it with his best. His three hundreds there in 1945 included a magnificent 185 to set up the Dominions' victory over England. The first of his seven sixes carried to the top tier of seats between the Pavilion turrets; an ondrive crashed into the roof of the broadcasting box above the England dressingroom. Albert Trott's unique 1899 drive over the Pavilion was mentioned in despatches and Miller returned home with a brand new name: "Nugget", the golden boy.

The first of Miller's 55 Tests - the 1946 annihilation of New Zealand at Wellington - was not recognised as such until March 1948. By then he had returned Test-best figures of seven for 60 at Brisbane against England, made a maiden Test hundred at Adelaide, and forged the hostile pairing with Ray Lindwall that spearheaded Bradman's Invincibles through England in 1948. At least Lindwall was orthodox. All a batsman had to think about was searing pace, late swerve, skiddy bouncer, the phalanx of fielders behind the bat and a new ball every 55 overs. Miller was unpredictable. A pitch-perfect ball, snaking off the seam, might easily be followed by a leg-break or googly or a round-arm off-cutter. His runup comprised nine easy paces - ostensibly. As likely as not he would come off a few yards and let loose a snorting bouncer that sucked the crowd breathless - or, when he bounced Len Hutton five times in eight balls at Trent Bridge, encouraged a protracted chorus of booing.

Miller's response was a toss of his thick mane and, next day in atrocious light, bumping Denis Compton, supposedly a mate, back on his stumps to end a rearguard innings of 184. But his seven Trent Bridge wickets had a price. Miller's pace, the product of immense torque, put a terrible strain on a back damaged when he crash-landed late in the war. (Bored with hanging about the airfield, he had taken his mechanic up for a "flip" and an engine caught fire. "Nearly stumps drawn that time, gents," he said as they walked away from the wreckage.) He did not bowl at Lord's or in the first innings at Old Trafford. When Bradman threw him the ball, Miller tossed it back, kindling rumours of a rift between them and embellishing the rebellious Miller image. He took only six more wickets in the series, and failed to top his 74 at Lord's. Who cared? His style counted more, contrapuntal to Bradman's relentless advance into immortality.

"He'll learn," Bradman muttered to Trevor Bailey at Southend after Miller, coming in at 364 for two, disdained the plunder and gave his wicket away first ball. Bradman was wrong. War, and with it the death of friends, had taught Miller there was more to life than easy runs. But Bradman, godfather of Australian cricket, was unforgiving. Miller was omitted from the 1949-50 side to South Africa. And for all his success as New South Wales captain, he was never appointed to lead his country in Tests. The stories of Miller telling his players to "scatter", instead of setting a field, masked New South Wales's prematch planning and his intuitive leadership. Bill Johnston's motor accident early in the South African tour got Miller there as a replacement, and he played in all five Tests. One of his six sixes against Eastern Province travelled some 130 yards before splashing into the St George's Park duckpond. When MCC toured in 1950-51, he headed Australia's batting averages and was second in the bowling behind mystery spinner Jack Iverson.

"Good as they were," Wisden said, "figures could not indicate Miller's worth to Australia." West Indies buckled before the Lindwall-Miller-Johnston pace barrage in the 1951-52 "cricket championship of the world", but a year later Jack Cheetham's young South Africans arrested Australia's momentum in a drawn rubber. England would have the upper hand in Miller's last three Ashes series. He began the 1953 tour with 220 not out at Worcester and closed with 262 not out against Combined Services; in between, he put Australia in a winning position at Lord's with a selfless 109, only for Bailey and Watson's famous stand to thwart them on the final day. But his ten wickets at 30 in that series were his costliest yet, as were his 20 at 32 in the Caribbean in 1954-55. Those, however, came in a winning cause given impetus by his three centuries. In the First Test at Kingston he also led Australia to victory after Ian Johnson injured his foot on the second day.

But the West Indies pitches were easy-paced, and the home attack had no one approaching the speed of Tyson and Statham, who had recently rolled Australia over at home. In 1956, Jim Laker and spin-friendly pitches made Miller's final tour a nightmare, reducing his classical batting to mockery as hair, pad and bat flopped forward in futile defensive lunges. Yet there were consolations. At Lord's, ignoring his 36 years, he bowled Australia to victory with peerless fast-medium bowling and his only ten-wicket return in Tests. It came as no surprise to teammates who, seven months earlier, had witnessed his seven-for-12 demolition of South Australia at Sydney; showman to the last, he acknowledged the Lord's ovation by picking the umpire's pocket and tossing the bails into the crowd. A fortnight later, while captaining the tourists against Hampshire, he was invited to nearby Broadlands by Lord Mountbatten, whose guests included Princess Margaret. Miller had met the princess in 1948 when the Australians visited Balmoral; now he found himself being asked to sit beside her during the afterdinner film.

"The bluest eyes I have ever seen," Miller noted, but rumours of an affair gained no currency from him. "No gentleman ever discusses any relationship with a lady," he chastised the curious. He continued to visit England every summer, working initially as a journalist for the Daily Express, maintaining friendships and pursuing his love of classical music. A cousin had introduced him to Beethoven early on - returning from a wartime mission he reputedly diverted over Bonn to see Beethoven's birthplace - and music, as much as cricket, was integral to his friendship with Sir Neville Cardus. Hallé maestro Sir John Barbirolli wrote the foreword to one of Miller's books. But passing years and ill-health took their toll, and he was wheelchairbound when the statue of him at the MCG was unveiled in February 2004. It didn't matter. The legend and the memories were intact; the mourners who packed Melbourne's cathedral for his state funeral testified to that.

NUGGETS David Frith on Keith Miller | Cricket | ESPN Cricinfo Perhaps cricket's first pin-up, Miller's game was marked by flair, devil-may-care insouciance, and awareness always that it was all just a game 39 Keith Miller: cricket's Errol Flynn © PA Photos There has never been a more glamorous cricketer than Keith Miller : not even Imran Khan. Miller's entry into the field generated every kind of symptom of crowd excitement. His stride was that of the catwalk. His sleek hair anticipated Elvis by some years. And his flashing smile showed admirers and adversaries alike that he was delighted to be there, privileged to be enjoying himself in the cause of entertainment. He was looking forward to swinging his bat, banging down a bouncer, or plucking a catch out of nowhere. From being bewitched by Gary Cooper and Errol Flynn some nights on the big silver screen, we watched Keith Miller, their cricketing personification, on sunlit days at the Sydney Cricket Ground.

And just as it was futile to aspire to be a Cooper (whose voice was so like Miller's) or a Flynn (whose grin was like his, and whose swordplay seemed the Hollywood equivalent of Miller's strokeplay), so it was only a foolish boy who aspired to emulate the dashing Miller. Miller was a cricketer of moods, ever responsive to a challenge but bored by stalemate, sometimes impatient, keen to make things happen, chivalrous in both victory and adversity. He was one of those players whom it would be wrong to judge by statistics, impressive though his were. He was strikingly Australian in physique and in his friendly openness; insouciant, modest, never forgetting a name (unless, sometimes, when addressing one of his four sons). But as Len Hutton, one of his greatest adversaries, cautioned, it was not wise to hit Keith for four: better to run him away for singles. Hutton was forever bewitched by Miller's unpredictability. In one over there might be a wicked bouncer off three paces, an innocuous half-volley, and then a googly. He never bothered measuring out a run-up.

Though Miller was born in Sunshine, Victoria, and in the late 1930s he was both star cricketer and Aussie Rules footballer in Melbourne, home for most of his life was Sydney. Born on November 28, 1919, Keith Ross Miller was named after the Smith brothers, who had then recently completed their epic flight from England to Australia. He attended Melbourne High School, where former Test captain WM Woodfull taught. Miller was later to claim unashamedly that he had only ever read one book in his life: MA Noble's The Game's the Thing. His early ambitions were directed towards the racetrack, but in his teens Miller shot up to six feet, and instead of becoming a jockey he reverted to a compulsive pursuit of punting. How the British papers loved those pictures of him at Ascot, complete with top hat and tailcoat. There was just time, before hostilities began in 1939, for Miller to make his first-class debut, and a spectacular entrance it was. In February 1938, when he was only 18, he hit 181 for Victoria against Tasmania at the MCG.

His outstanding potential was emphasised with a further century against Don Bradman's South Australia (with cunning old spinner Clarrie Grimmett bowling). But when he joined the Royal Australian Air Force he had bowled no more than 56 balls in first-class cricket. It was not until he burst onto the scene at Lord's in the matches played by the Australian Services XI towards the end of the war and in the "Victory Test matches" of 1945 that his power with the bat and his potential for rattling batsmen with raw pace and sharp bounce off a short run-up were fully revealed. "What does this chap bowl?" England's Denis Compton enquired of the Australian Services wicketkeeper Stan Sismey. The keeper thought him a change bowler who might be a bit quick. Flight Sergeant (later Flying Officer) Miller's first ball, released after a short gallop, a shimmy of the shoulder, and a fast sweep of the arm, whistled past Compton's head - the first of many such deliveries to somebody who became a great friend.

Nor would spectators ever forget Miller's hurricane innings of 185 for The Dominions, during which a blow into the highest reaches of the Lord's pavilion narrowly missed commentator Rex Alston. When Ashes cricket was resumed in 1946, Miller - drawn to Sydney by employment first as a liquor salesman and then with the Sun newspaper - was among the Australians who, aided by timely heavy rain mixed with tropical sun, destroyed England by an innings and 332 runs in Brisbane . Having begun his Test career earlier that year in the fiasco against New Zealand, when Australia won on a wet Wellington pitch in one and a half days, he marked his debut against England with 79, batting at No. 5, and then taking 7 for 60 with a certain reluctance on that treacherous surface. While Bradman urged him on, he winced every time one of his slowed-down full-length balls crashed into Bill Edrich's ribs or knocked Cyril Washbrook's cap off or inflicted another bruise on 43-year-old Wally Hammond. Miller could not free his mind of the fact that these fellows had so recently been in uniform on the same side as him.

He stroked the first of his seven Test centuries in the Adelaide match, and after a moderate series against India he took a prominent part in the never-to-be-forgotten 1948 tour of England, when Bradman's dream of completing his final tour without losing a match was duly fulfilled. And that series is remembered as much as anything for the fiery Lindwall-Miller opening attack, energised as it was by the nonsensical 55-overs new-ball regulation. Miller's cascade of bumpers at Trent Bridge in the first Test worked the spectators into a frenzy, still mindful as they were of the authorities' punishment of their own Notts fast-bowling favourites, Harold Larwood and Bill Voce, 15 years earlier. It was probably the only time in his life that the popular Miller was booed and jeered. He merely laughed, rolled his sleeve up and bucked into his next delivery. In terrible light, his bosom friend Compton fell into his stumps, having scored 184. The two were soon sharing a drink.

Miller's damaged back prevented him from bowling in the Lord's Test, and he took only 13 wickets in that series while Ray Lindwall and Bill Johnston took 27 apiece. But Miller's animated presence always placed him centre stage. A rebellious, mischievous and sometimes contrary streak about Miller's psyche often belied a sentimental nature. This was the man who diverted his aircraft miles off course after a bombing raid so that he could get an aerial view of Beethoven's birthplace Miller's relationship with Bradman was unusual. In the fullness of time he wrote and uttered much praise for his Test captain. But he was one of those close to The Don who were irritated by aspects of his nature. The 1948ers were mainly new boys, who demonstrated an almost humble respect for their 39-year-old skipper. Not Miller. He unceremoniously tossed the ball back to his captain, saying he thought he'd already made it clear that his back was too painful. In Bradman's final season Miller mischievously bounced him, causing the most highly worshipped of cricketers to fend for his life.

When the Australia side to tour South Africa in 1949-50 was announced, the name of the world's No. 1 allrounder, KR Miller, was missing. Whenever the matter came up in later years Bradman would calmly state that he was only one of the selectors. Miller was flown to South Africa when Johnston was injured in a car accident, and although his Test performances were unexceptional, the spectators, who had heard so much about him, were at least belatedly satisfied. Then came the 1950-51 Ashes series, for which he warmed up with 214 for New South Wales against the touring team. For him the Test series sprang to life in the third Test , when he got his name on the afternoon newspaper placards with a dazzling catch at slip to dismiss Washbrook, to go with the wickets of Hutton, Reg Simpson and Compton (0). This was followed by one of his more cautious centuries as Australia built a big lead off an injury-ridden England attack.

Mystery bowler Jack Iverson stole the closing honours with 6 for 27, but Miller was rehabilitated, a fact celebrated with 99 in the next Test , at which point a Doug Wright googly and his own bat synchronously crashed into the stumps. Again that toss of the head and broad smile. The slap of the bat onto the turf as he late-cut was a trademark shot, as distinctively Miller's as the bold off-drive or the slightly awkward full-stretch defensive, when his hair would splash over his forehead. He (we as well) was fortunate in that his grandest stroke, the stand-up cut-drive, was captured for all time by the camera in 1950. The picture graced the office wall of Australia's cricket-loving prime minister Robert Menzies, who said that contemplating it "refreshed" him. Australia's domination of world cricket continued through home series against West Indies and South Africa, with Miller returning a century here and a five-for there, always seemingly the core of the side. Arthur Morris, Lindsay Hassett and Neil Harvey usually preceded him to the crease, and Lindwall and he automatically took the new ball, supported by Johnston's whippy left-arm.

But Miller was never to escape the back pain, and bowled less than the others, though he still took key wickets and catches at slip. He became captain of New South Wales in 1952-53, and the Sheffield Shield was won by his adopted state three times in the four years in which he was leader. Later in life he reflected ruefully that despite those honours there wasn't even "a bit of graffiti" bearing his name at the SCG - though the MCC honoured him in 1993 by commissioning an oil portrait of him for the Long Room at Lord's. Miller was never entrusted with the captaincy of Australia. The Australian board have always preferred the "safe" captain, the establishment man. Miller was incurably outspoken and unpredictable. Hassett's successor was Ian Johnson, and only when Johnson was forced from the field in the West Indies in 1955 was Miller permitted to act as Test captain. In that short span he brought a dynamism to proceedings that spotlighted what Australia might have forsaken. His peculiarities as NSW captain sometimes compromised his reputation.

"One of you **** off, then!" he called out when one of his players whispered that he hadn't appointed a 12th man and they had one too many in the field. "Scatter!" he cried whenever the youngsters looked to him for directions in the field. And he often arrived late. Once, in 1955, he forgot to collect Peter Philpott, so he swung the car around as if it were a free-flying Mosquito, roared back to the North Shore to get his young team-mate, and eventually screeched into the SCG players' car park as the umpires were taking the field. Miller had hardly slept that night, having been celebrating the birth of another son. His head was hurting. He even forgot to put his socks on. South Australia were bowled out before lunch for 27, a record Shield low, Miller 7 for 12, though he would struggle forever afterwards to recall either his figures or the names of his victims. His second tour of England, in 1953, when England memorably regained the Ashes at The Oval , found Miller in an ageing side in which some immature allrounders were finding things difficult on damp, unprotected pitches.

He had a mediocre series, apart from a greatly relished century that set up Australia's second innings in the pulsating "Watson-Bailey" drawn match at Lord's, a ground that, with his wartime matches in mind, Miller always insisted was his spiritual home. When Hutton's conquering 1954-55 side toured Australia, Miller's powers seemed to be on the wane. He was forced to miss the second Test - "Tyson's match" - in Sydney because of fluid in the knee. And yet while his highest score in the series was only 49 in Brisbane, twice with the ball he stamped his name on a match, even though both were lost. On the first morning in Melbourne , the England batsmen found him almost unplayable. His spell was 3 for 5 in nine eight-ball overs, eight of them maidens.

Then in Adelaide , when England needed 94 to secure the Ashes, Miller got rid of Hutton in his first over, Edrich in his second, and Colin Cowdrey in his third, causing Hutton to shake his head slowly and say, "The booger's done us." Compton could only protest: "Hang on, Len, I haven't batted yet!" When Miller dived to catch Peter May in the covers it was 49 for 4 and Englishmen everywhere were chewing their fingernails. But the tumble had damaged Miller's shoulder, and England got home. Such was the power and swagger of Miller's personality that until that injury - even though England's target was small - it was not Hutton alone who feared that all was lost. Miller was 35 and nursing repetitive physical problems when he had his best series. On Australia's maiden tour of the West Indies he scored three Test centuries and took 20 wickets. It was almost as if he wanted to make absolutely sure that he would go to England for a third tour, a hope secured by a good 1955-56 domestic season, when he averaged 70 with the bat and 14 with the ball .

The 1956 venture was one that Australia has ever since wished to forget. Confronted by Jim Laker (46 wickets), Miller was as bewildered as anybody, most notably at Old Trafford, where 19 of Laker's wickets were harvested. At Lord's , Miller had done his favourite ground proud, with 10 wickets to put Australia one-up. It was the tourists' only victory of the series, but the Australian hero, object of as much female as male adulation, stamped that match flamboyantly as his own. As the players left the field, he lifted the bails from the umpire's pocket and tossed them as souvenirs into the mass of applauding spectators. Miller's final Test was as unsatisfactory as his first in Wellington 11 years previously. In Karachi , Pakistan won their inaugural Test against Australia, only 95 runs being eked out of the matting surface on the first day, when Australia went down for 80. Soon after retirement Miller returned to Pakistan to play in a flood-relief match, pointedly upholding his country's pride after several current Test players had declined to go.

He turned out for Nottinghamshire while in England in 1959, and scored 62 and 102 not out against Cambridge University. Miller was ever responsive to a challenge but bored by stalemate © PA Photos Of all the women in his life, the one who mattered most by far was Margaret Wagner, the tolerant "Peggie" from Boston, Massachusetts, whom he met on his journey to Britain during the war. They married in 1946, and it was a source of shock and sadness to their friends when the two separated early in the new century after so many years together. Peggie died in 2003, and Keith, having returned at last to Melbourne, then married a friend of long standing. The following year saw him at the MCG - confined to a wheelchair - unveiling a statue of himself as a bowler. Appropriately the statue is larger than life. A rebellious, mischievous and sometimes contrary streak about Miller's psyche often belied a sentimental nature.

This was the man who diverted his aircraft miles off course after a bombing raid so that he could get an aerial view of Beethoven's birthplace; the man who would terrify one batsman after another through the afternoon only to spend the evening humming classics with the delicate and sensitive Neville Cardus; the man who, having listened to his captain, Johnson, firing up the Australians in the dressing room by pledging to regain the initiative tomorrow with his offspin, would retort: "Ten-to-one says you won't!" This was the man who once hit the first ball of the day for six in a Test match, and who, when confronted by Dennis Lillee, fuming at what Miller had just written about him, just laughed and said to the younger man, "Don't take any notice of that. I'm paid good money to write all that s***." The more striking a young man's elan and image, the tougher it must be to endure the privations of the later years. In this, Keith Miller was surely cricket's Dorian Gray. David Frith is an author, historian, and founding editor of Wisden Cricket Monthly.

This article was first published in Wisden Asia Cricket magazine in 2004 © ESPN Sports Media Ltd.

Question: Who said "Pressure, I'll tell you what pressure is. Pressure is a Messerschmidt up your backside. Playing cricket is not"?
Answer: Keith Miller