History was at hand. By the time the tyros were separated the following afternoon, the score was 532. Their partnership of 332 still stands, 60 years on, as shield cricket’s sixth-wicket record. Thomas made 189 and, at the declaration, Marks was unbeaten on 180.
It didn’t end there. My recollection of that long summer holiday is of ABC radio’s cricket summaries, over weeks, reporting further heroics from Marks. While the young memory is inclined to magnify, the statistics don’t lie.
In his second match, against Victoria at the MCG, Marks made another first-innings century. There followed, in subsequent weeks, first innings contributions of 54, 88, and 63. A brilliant new star was climbing.
When NSW travelled to Adelaide for the return engagement with South Australia, Marks – along with Benaud and Jim Burke – was invited to the Bradman residence for dinner. That his father, Alec, had been a state teammate – indeed a roommate – of The Don was no doubt a factor. But the son of Alec Marks had arrived on the scene like few before him and this was ultimate recognition.
By season’s end – and excluding Ray Stokes, who was dismissed once in making 84 runs for Tasmania – Marks was at the top of the national first-class averages: 548 runs at 68.5.
Not even his host on that memorable night in Adelaide had achieved this in his first season. Nor did other renowned run-machines Harvey, Walters, Greg Chappell, Hayden, or Ponting.
And then it was over.
By the second-last day of 1959, Marks had played his last first-class game. In the first three games of the new season he’d made just 20 runs. The end was inglorious: a “pair” against Victoria in the post-Christmas match at the MCG.
But this wasn’t simply a case of second-year blues and lost form. At 21, Marks was seriously ill. He had a congenital condition described as “a hole in the heart”. It was life-threatening.
His parents had known of it since his infancy and had been given medical advice not to let him play sport. They took the view, though, that such drastic action might “kill” their son before the heart condition did.
Thus, he played on, unaware of anything amiss. His first sense of something not being right came early in that 1959-60 season. In the opening match he’d been struck on the chest by a ball from Queensland paceman Barry Fisher, and was forced to retire hurt.
“I noticed I was slowing down,” Marks says. This was reinforced a couple of weeks later when teammate Brian Booth struck him at the WACA nets bowling his occasional, gentle medium-pacers. The game after Perth would be his last.
Through 1960 and into 1961, Marks formed a new ambition: to stay alive.
He had two unsuccessful operations in Australia where the corrective measure for conditions such as his hadn’t been perfected. It had been developed at Minnesota’s Mayo Clinic in the United States. Arrangements were made for Marks to go there. A fundraiser conducted by Sydney’s Sun newspaper enabled his mother and father to travel with him.
Described in American reports as Australia’s Babe Ruth, Marks had major heart surgery. Happily, it was successful. When he asked his surgeon could he play cricket again, the answer was, “No … golf or horse-riding perhaps”.
Yet, by the mid-1960s Marks was again playing first-grade for Northern District and continued until he was 35. Then he dropped a grade and played on into his early 40s. He became a state selector for 12 years and regularly managed teams that travelled interstate.
In September this year, Neil “Harpo” Marks reached 80. It’s been an extraordinary cricket journey. He’s able to tell of the legendary Charlie McCartney, a friend of his father, coming to the family home for dinner. “What are you going to do, Neil?” the legendary “governor-general” asked. The answer, “play for Australia”.
Which he didn’t. So, does he feel robbed?
“No … I lived,” he says.
“I’m happily married with three kids, grandkids, one playing second grade. I’m glad I continued with cricket in other ways. A friend I went to school with fell under a truck and died …”
So, what advice would the now 80-year-old give to young players who, like him, arrive on the scene with a bang?
“Enjoy every day you play,” Marks says. “Don’t be looking towards tomorrow. Don’t be silly, don’t sledge.”
He pauses, then adds, “They’re your mates.”
This wisdom comes from a man who knows cricket is a great game but who also knows there’s a bigger one. It’s the one called life-and-death.
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