While we're distracted, they are cleaning us up. Time to stop playing defence and bat like Bradman. Read on before the umpire pulls the plug...

This is a story about a broken bikini strap, a game of beach cricket, politics, and  Artificial Intelligence.  Intrigued? You should be.....

Back in the late '70s or early '80s ...   when Australia still had its sunburnt sense of humour intact and the beach was a place for fun, not Instagram filters ....  the Aussie cricket team took some well-earned R&R in the Whitsundays.

Whitehaven Beach, in the Whitsundays of Queensland, that stretch of impossibly white sand and aqua water, was the scene. It was the kind of spot where thongs are footwear, not a social statement, and no one would’ve heard of a selfie stick, let alone cared.

And yes, it is that magnificent. 

Among the construction workers helping build a new resort nearby ( now Hamilton Island ) was a young woman who decided to join the beach cricket game that had formed ....  and what a moment she created.

As the story goes....  and I happen to know someone who was there ... she bowled to none other than Allan Border, the future captain and backbone of Australian cricket. But just as she delivered the ball, her bikini strap gave up the ghost.

Clean bowled. Border out for a duck.

That, my friends, is pressure. And it’s a story that’s lived on not just in folklore, but reportedly even landed her a cheeky centrefold in Man Magazine.

It just goes to show you that even the best of the best can drop their guard in the face of extreme pressure. 

It’s never the best of feelings for a batsman who gets out without scoring a run. When the batter gets out for zero, his score is commonly referred to as a duck in the game of cricket. The term "duck" originates from the “duck’s egg”. The egg has the shape of 0 and hence a nought is commonly called “duck”.

There is an interesting piece of history related to the discovery of this amusing little term. On July 17, 1866, when the Prince of Wales got out for a blob, a newspaper carried out a piece stating that “the prince had retired to the royal pavilion on a duck’s egg”. Since then, the duck has forged a successful relationship with the great game of cricket.

Anyway, back to my story and why I am writing this.

We must never drop our eye from the ball.

Never.

Perhaps our most vulnerable times are when we are off duty. We tend to drop our guard.

How many politicians have dropped the ball and been clean bowled for a duck because they dropped their eye from the ball?

A pretty girl, a drink in a bar; a clumsy word; a bad decision?

I am of course not talking about a wonderful game of cricket on a Queensland beach over 40 years ago. No, that was just fun and games. 

But politics is just not the same as a friendly game of cricket on a beach in a different era, and when life was good and a bit of a laugh. 

So here comes the twist: 

I recently tried to generate an image to capture that moment  -  just a square, 1970s-style shot of friends playing beach cricket, laughing in the sun. Pure nostalgia. Pure Aussie gold.

Rejected. Again and again.

Apparently, the image police  -  or let’s call them HAL from 2001: A Space Odyssey  -  decided it was too risky. Too joyful? Too real? Or maybe the system’s just forgotten how to tell the difference between a harmless yarn and a hazard.

“I’m sorry, Monty... you can’t create that beach cricket memory.”

We’re in strange territory when machines don’t trust our stories, especially ones that remind us of who we are.

And this is where the cricket story becomes a metaphor. Because just like Border dropped his eye from the ball, so too have we. We conservatives, we Australians who still believe in the dignity of work, of tradition, of plain speech and having a laugh  -  we’ve been distracted. A pretty headline here, a woke policy there, and suddenly we’re bowled for a duck.

Politics isn’t a beach cricket match anymore. It’s gloves off, high stakes, no do-overs. One bad shot, one moment of distraction, and it’s game over.

We need to channel Bradman now. Not the distracted Border on Whitehaven Beach. We need focus, discipline, and a refusal to be psyched out by nonsense. Because the next election is not a day at the beach, it’s our last innings.

We’ve already been wiped out twice. Teals, Greens, and lefties turned up with slogans and smugness and sent us packing. But next time -   if we keep our eye on the ball, if we bat with Bradman spirit -  we can turn it around.

Let’s stop letting the AI umpire tell us what’s acceptable. Let’s stop apologising for our stories. Let’s stop playing defence.

It’s time to walk out to the crease, straighten the shoulders, and send the next ball soaring. But can we? 

Because if we're honest, the Aussie cricket team today is a bit like our conservative leaders ....  tentative, timid, and trying not to offend the crowd instead of winning the game. All style, no spine. Playing for optics, not outcomes.

You don't win Test matches -   or elections -   with soft hands and scared hearts.

So let's stop padding away the tough deliveries. Let's stop sending out nightwatchmen when what we need are warriors. No more powder-puff policies and press conferences where every sentence's been run through the HR department.

Australia doesn’t need more duck stories. It needs a damn good innings.

Time to bat like Bradman. And this time, keep your eye off the bikinis and on the ball.

 Because the spirit of Bradman isn’t gone, it’s just waiting for its turn at bat.

And fair dinkum  -  it’s about time.

Only WE know what this country means to us. Only we understand Australiana. So let's get back to being Aussies again.