A welcome addition

Roy: Going for Broke Andrew Symonds with Stephen Gray, Hardie Grant Books

The sterilised age preventing sportspeople from sprouting not much more than corporate spin should be forcing the end of dreary ghosted autobiographies. Instead books with little worth to subject or reader are popping up like springtime flowers and hundreds of pages are devoted to great team-mates, superb wins and important challenges.

Often it is possible to come away with no more than a basic knowledge of the player, which usually comes from the standard growing up chapters, and an opportunity to memorise their scoring sequences as they progress from talented junior to international. Not for Andrew Symonds. A spectator's dream when in hulking form, he has contributed to a book that is so revealing for a high-profile figure it should almost carry "unauthorised" in the title.

It's no surprise Symonds' range is not broad, but he offers honesty and it stands out like his zinc-smeared lips. He makes fun of himself, analyses his nights of shame in almost drink-by-drink detail and reports full conversations with senior administrators about being on his final behaviour warnings. There is no skipping over the serious matters and an entire chapter is spent on his Cardiff bender the night before Australia's loss to Bangladesh in 2005, breaking an unofficial record for transparency.

The transgression sections are broken up by large doses of fun and Symonds is almost always the target. It is improbable to think of any other modern player allowing the series of recollections from team-mates that appear at the end of each chapter and outline his various faux pas.

When wanting to buy a property he tells Jimmy Maher, his Queensland team-mate, he'll offer $10,000 more than the price to show the seller how much he wants it. He's asked Michael Kasprowicz what is the RSPCA date for his wedding and said to a raffle-ticket seller he'd look forward to her call on the 32nd of the month.

In primary school he won a prize for speaking French but spent more time learning cricket, fishing and hunting, which led to a life of being teased with impromptu spelling bees from team-mates. Conquering "cat" and "dog" were easy, "knife" took a bit of thinking and at least "pterodactyl" stumped the whole squad. Unlike his team-mates on the regular publishing cycle, Symonds is happy to tell his story with warts and warthogs.

Stephen Gray has done an exceptional job capturing Symonds' voice and expanding on his snippets. What is more remarkable for such an open book is that Gray is Queensland Cricket's media manager. In other organisations the role is for blocking or controlling information, but in this collaboration Symonds' adoption, marriage break-up and hiding of some hunting adventures from Cricket Australia are covered with up-front detail.

Only the faltering of Symonds' cricket memory prevents more information about the triumphs of his major innings. He could recall only a couple of moments from his World Cup century and had to watch a DVD for extra talking points, but he does not conceal his approach.

Symonds also produces a batch of funny lines including the description of John Buchanan as Professor Von Slickstein. "Buck was like a cartoon mad scientist in those early days and I half expected him to say: 'Now pay attention because this really is rocket science.'"

Buchanan, who often pops up with advice, spilt tears during Symonds' hundred against Pakistan and offered a crucial line again this week when telling him to play freely at his next Test opportunity. "Give me a simple, clearly-defined task and let me get the job done," Symonds says. It has worked with his one-day batting in the same way it has succeeded in the book.