Heard a great story about bad-ass Barry Richards being even more bad-ass than usual, and it's quite a recent one too, dating to the occasion the other summer when Richards turned out for the Bunbury charity XI.
He arrived at the game direct from the airport, carrying a pair of golf shoes and a bat so old that it was the colour of oak and the width of a slim volume of poetry. The rest of the kit he borrowed. A couple of men fell and he made his way in. Richards began slowly, as befitted a man who had just crossed the world, but soon that thin bat sang its song, and Bad Bas was smiling his way to another fifty before he gave his wicket away.
'How long is it since you've played,' someone asked him back in the pavilion.
'Oh, twelve years,' said Richards.
Twelve years. Bad-ass.