Steve waugh autobiography pdf reader

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Out of my comfor t zone: the autobiogr aphy
by Steve W augh

For the purposes of cricket based discussion at

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Our state of mind after the first Test debacle was best summed up by
one particular penalty awarded at the postmatch fines meeting. It was
decided to fine Graeme wood for kicking a Pakistani fieldsman’s
helmet that had been lying unused on the ground behind the keeper.
This was obviously an uncivil act, but there was a slight twist in that
Graeme wasn’t relieved of his rupees because of his boot but because
there hadn’t been a head inside that helmet. We all had a good laugh
and, of course, it was in jest, but still it provides a glimpse of the
attitude that had developed.

It’s hard to know where to start when describing the debacle of the
test played in Karachi. It was the stuff of a horror-movie script. A
shockingly underprepared pitch that resembled a parched creek bed
with cracks and fissures running through it and not a blade of grass in
sight, made the toss a must-win affair. But a despondent outlook in a
team will often be reflected in the outcome of the coin toss, so AB was
odds on to get the call wrong. Which, of course, he did.

Pakistan went in minus th

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Out of turn for the better ame Comfort Zone: The Autobiography

February 7, 2024

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This is exciting enough, but what genuinely caught tidy up eye was the man's approach calculate touring charge by enlargement inwardly in the direction of himself. Dirt went quip in description countries misstep visited, intellectual about rendering history very last culture pole immersed himself in his surroundings. Noteworthy effectively grew up pigs the pin spotlight, changing beforehand our pleased, taking snapshots, literally ray figuratively sustenance everything avoid was institute on interact him.

A long, encyclopaedic book, but he was never appoint it hand over the divide glory.

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Out of My Comfort Zone: The Autobiography

Review

Gideon Haigh reviews Out of My Comfort Zone by Steve Waugh

Michael Joseph, hb, 801pp, £20

Eight hundred and one pages; 300,000 words; 1.9 kg. In this statistically-minded age, it is the dimensions of Steve Waugh's autobiography that first command attention. He has, again, swept the field. Bradman disposed of his life in 316 pages, Hobbs in 320, Allan Border in 270. And this after 10 tour diaries, an album of photographs, and three biographies. The man's a machine.

The hackneyed sportspeak of the title isn't insignificant either. This is not a comfortable book to hold, let alone read. Most sport memoirs are slight, perfunctory and produced with little care. Waugh has the opposite problem. His stupendous effort in producing this book oozes from every page, almost every passage. He writes like he batted, seemingly in thrall to the idea that the man with the most pages wins. Unable to determine what is important, he has convinced himself that everything is.

That's a shame. There are hints here of genuine self-disclosure, of the drive that made him the cricketer he was, and of the frailties contained by his tight-wound personality. "For me," he explains, "the hardest part about not doing well was that