Church Mouse Carey is denigrating Australia’s history of loud-mouthed wicketkeepers



Alex Carey is Poppins-esque with the gloves and a bankable force with the bat, but he is dragging the reputation of Aussie wicketkeepers through the mud.

How?

Because he is too quiet, too nice and barely insufferable enough to keep wicket for this country.

As we know, Carey’s fastidious glovework and critical runs in the middle order has seen him established as a mainstay of the Pat Cummins era.

Well, that’s what’s been reported anyway.

None of us actually know how he’s fared, mainly because his time in the Australian team has only been detectable by border collies and naval radars.

For all his valuable contributions, Carey is the most reserved and genteel wicketkeeper in recent history – and it’s grossly unAustralian.

It’s true that the art of wicketkeeping is similar to an umpire or a sewerage tank: they are performing at their best when they go unnoticed.

And while this lends itself to the game’s celebrated virtue of ‘letting your bat do the talking’, in Australia this does not apply to our glovemen.

Of course, we demand our ‘keepers abide by the role’s traditions of being parliamentary in dress, prudent in custodianship, and obtrusive in toggling third-man a fraction squarer every so often for no reason whatsoever.

But we also demand they are serial buzzards who produce white noise so incessant that you wished they had batteries you could take out of their back.

Carey however?

The only reason Cummins keeps someone at first slip all day is just to make sure he’s still alive.

Alex Carey.

Alex Carey (Photo by Cameron Spencer/Getty Images)

Run back through Carey’s highlights and not once will he shred your ears with a nasal ‘Bowling Shane’, ‘Nice Gary’ or ‘10 quid on England at 500/1 thanks.’

Furthermore, nor will you see him viciously send-off a defenseless Kiwi, fat-shame an opposition skipper, nor inform a batsmen that everyone in his team hates him.

In fact, the only time he ruffled feathers was the Jonny Bairstow incident, and he was still racked with guilt even though it will eventually earn him an OAM.

While we always suspected he was a nice guy, Carey’s monastic ways were laid bare during the rain delays of the third Test when Channel Seven replayed a feature of the ‘keeper mic’d up on the field during the early stages of the series.

Whether during wicket celebrations, DRS discussions or even just the cacophony of an appeal, Carey was such a church mouse throughout that even his high fives needed closed captioning.

This was reinforced in a playful Q&A segment between Marnus Labuschagne and Steve Smith when both were quizzed on the most annoying cricketer they know, with both emphatically replying that it was ‘definitely not Carey’.

It appears Carey has become the poster boy for the new Cummins era of detoxified cricket, and put simply, there is no excuse for it.

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In fact, his lack of an uncouth streak should ring alarm bells as it points to a critical failure in this nation’s pathways systems.

With a background in AFL, Carey has received the finest education available to be a vile lout.

Add years inside an academy system once overseen by king larrikin Rod Marsh, and his dignified behaviour is a clear indication this country has lost its way.

With India full of lip merchants this summer and an Ashes looming next year, the South Aussie’s inexhaustible manners could be a major issue.

Nobody’s asking him to reinvent himself as a foul-mouthed urchin, but would some hostile banter and a teardrop tattoo kill him?

After all, who truly believes we can needle the Poms next year without a ‘keeper they would love to punch in the face?

Whether Marsh, Ian Healy, Brad Haddin, Matt Wade or Tim Paine, Australia has enjoyed great success against the enemy whenever we’ve picked a jaunty larrikin behind the sticks to troll their meek underbelly and even meeker summers.

(Photo by Ryan Pierse/Getty Images)

And with Bazball in full swing, we need Carey to channel his predecessors and start bringing the bad breath and braggadocio.

Do we need to remind him about Peter Nevill?

As a wicketkeeper, Wade couldn’t catch a train, but he was still considered a superior option to the demure New South Welshman because he was as irritating as jock itch and twice as persistent.

Even a demigod like Adam Gilchrist was eventually sniffed out.

Sure, the whole nation was in love with him, but also totally suss when he started walking.

Such sporting acts saw him ultimately retire as a national hero – and if Carey doesn’t check himself, he might find himself befalling the same shameful state.

Sadly, it appears Carey has been consigned to sledging in Auslan ever since the Bairstow incident.

But we need him to shake it off and start acting like the pulse of the team.

Not just to keep our team’s on a healthy rhythm, but to also ensure the opposition’s soars through hypertension.

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