So here it is. 27 November, the centrepiece of a desperately sad sequence of dates. 25 November, the day 10 years ago when Phillip Hughes was struck by a cricket ball and hospitalised. 27 November, when his life support was ended as futile. 30 November, the 26th birthday that he never reached. 3 December, the funeral that spilled down the street of Macksville. 9 December, his teammates somehow pulling themselves together for a Test match where his absence made him the defining presence. 13 December, relief more than happiness when they won, the one thing they could control.
You probably recall that match, the ceremony around it. The pictures are bright, an easy transfer from television screen to memory. Other memories we might prefer not to summon, but when we do, they’re stronger. Anyone who lived through that time will know the suffocating three days of waiting, from the news of an injury on the Tuesday to Peter Brukner’s confirmation of death on the Thursday. Those close to the centre knew soonest that there would be no recovery, and word filtered outward, but for most people the official announcement was all that ended their hopes for a miracle.
