Straight talking stumper

Steve Rixon: he won't accept second-best and he won't back off from telling people exactly that © Getty Images

It's 8.30am, the day before the opening game of the 105th official County Championship, and Jon Batty, Surrey's man of a thousand faces and parts, is already heading out of the pavilion.

"He's upstairs," smiles the bushy-tailed skipper when I ask the whereabouts of the other half of the Brit Oval's new regime. He and Steve Rixon may not always see eye-to-eye, but, promisingly, they share a fondness for early starts and punctuality. For commitment.

So choc-a-bloc are Batty's hands, what with all that keeping-and opening-and-leading business, it was a wonder he had the strength to jerk a thumb. Still, if any man is capable of helping him carry his burden it is Rixon.

This, after all, is `Stumper', the man who fellow Sydneysiders and many other Australians insist should be national coach. When Steve Waugh acceded to the Australian captaincy, many assumed his state comrade would emerge as his right hand. Rixon himself was among those swiftly disabused. "He is probably the most unique captain I've known because he wants to do it his way, and that's why I'm not Australia's coach at the moment." That "at the moment" invades the room like fresh cigar smoke: the ghost, self-evidently, is far from surrendered.

"I'd never been more confident of getting a job. I thought my time had come. But Stephen was looking for a more ... " Heavy sigh. "Er, facilitator-type coach, who could tidy up the loose ends. And John Buchanan's that sort of coach. Stephen wanted it one way and one way only. We're both pretty strong characters and he didn't want confrontation. The thing with that side is that it doesn't matter who's coaching them. I'm not being disrespectful but it probably doesn't matter who the captain is: their artillery's so strong."

The rejection hurt. "I snapped myself out of it. Cricket doesn't owe me anything. I wished John well and help any way I can. But at the time I felt someone had hit me over the head with a sledgehammer." In fact, he declined to attend a state coaches' seminar run by Buchanan, saying he had better things to do. It is more a question of method than man. Rixon is no Luddite - he wields a mean laptop - but stats and charts are about as intrinsic to his philosophy as, well, Eastern philosophy. Some predict that Ricky Ponting will soon tire of Buchanan's meticulous methods, in which case Rixon's English sojourn could be brief.

For now Rixon is sitting in his `office' high in The Oval pavilion - Box No. 18, the Jim Laker Box. They really ought to have given him the one next door, named as it is after another NSW and Australia old boy, Keith Ross Miller. He gestures towards the gasholders: the walk from his current home is almost literally a hop. Leaving New South Wales for Surrey is akin to trading Real Madrid for Manchester United - he will continue to put in the hard hours.

He already feels fit to "explode". A break? That'd be nice. A fishing trip would hit the spot. He's far too modest to mention it, but there he is on fishnet.com.au, sheepishly showing off a 2lb rainbow trout. The moustache is even more impressive in the flesh. If David Boon was the Walrus, meet the Walrus's sleeker brother.

Just turned 50, he had been in England less than three weeks, and you could tell: emails from his wife and four children were flowing in; the mobile was still misbehaving; he'd worn shorts to practice.

'I'm looking to win from the moment I walk on that park' © Getty Images

The eyes, bright and brown, a twinkle rarely far from view, never leave yours. He loves "one-on-ones", he says. Discussing how to steer potential to fruition, he makes more than one reference to "TLC". Not that he could ever remotely be mistaken for a soft touch, though he does have a soft spot for "working-class cricketers", as epitomised by Allan Border - "guys who play above themselves". Ask him to cite his toughest challenge and the answer pings straight back: Chris Cairns. Ask who has afforded him the greatest satisfaction and you get the same reply. An Australian uttering such sweet nothings about a Kiwi? Unheard-of.

Then again, accepting an offer to coach New Zealand (1996-99), with all the attendant pressures his nationality brought, was scarcely the act of a cowardly soul. The devotion had always been plain. Nobody, when he retired in 1988, had ever played more games for NSW. He also wore the baggy green 13 times. He played it rugged. At the SCG in 1984-85, he even went toe-to-toe with Viv Richards.

"It was a bat-pad catch - Viv turned around and started staring and called me a cheat. We kept nattering, and eventually he turned and said, `You and me, out the back after the game.' And I thought, `Oh, Christ.' Fortunately, my first slip had been gold gloves champion in South Africa, Kepler Wessels, and the bloke biting at their heels in the covers was Allan Border."

It would be eminently understandable were Rixon to regard the words "Rod" and "Marsh", too, with something less than undying affection. Being second in line to a legend drains many a man of drive.

Highly regarded as a gloveman, his handicap was a quiet bat: first-class average 23.13 - 18.76 in Tests with two fifties. When he reels off the stumpers he most admires, Bob Taylor and Alan Knott leap quickest to lips, yet there is no trace of bitterness. "Marshy was as good standing back as any but not so good standing up - but then he didn't have much call to keep to spinners.

"My biggest disappointment was that, when it was my time, after Rod retired, they started fiddling around with guys who were very good top-order bats who gave things away - like Wayne Phillips. He was openly apologetic about his keeping.

"I toured here in `81 but Rod was in such poor form he played most of the county games. I was picked for `85 and - well, the rebel tour came along. It was a financial guarantee, and I decided that would be the best way to finish out my career. No question of it being blood money, not in Australia. We kept South African cricket alive, so when they got back they didn't take long to get up to speed. Kept the best in my life out there. Caught 48 chances and dropped one."

Rixon has become a sought-after nurturer and nourisher (he describes his chief function as a "man-manager"). Yet until his last few active state games, he had never considered coaching. "When I retired I was content with retirement. When the NSW opening came up soon after, I thought, `Yes, I can do this. I know what's wrong.' The players I'd been with when we won the one-day final in `84-85 had just dissolved around me - Matthews, Whitney, Lawson, the Waughs. People were pulling against each other. I knew where I had to start from." In each of his first five seasons the Blues reached the Shield final, winning three; there were also two Shield/one-day cup doubles. The recipe? A "back yourself at all costs" mindset.

And so to Surrey. "He'll shake them up, expect proper standards and commitment or he'll leave," warns one former state team-mate. "He won't accept second-best and he won't back off from telling people exactly that. Despite the resentment over his being Australian, he taught the Kiwis self-belief, gave them bit of good old Aussie grit."

Here, though, is a seeker of challenges rather than security. Running a fairly profitable concern - Steve Rixon Sporting Enterprises - offers that. He fingers the back of his sweater proudly, displaying the Stumper brand tag. "I've become quite a harsh businessman - perhaps that should be astute - because I got bitten early. It opened my eyes, made me harder to deal with. If I was out of cricket tomorrow, I wouldn't be at a loss. But I've been lucky because I've enjoyed coaching so much. So when I give it away I want to make sure I've finished with it."

He wants to leave a legacy at The Oval. Representing NSW for so long means expectation holds no fears. And yes, when he does give it away, he'll feel entitled to shout it loud and proud: he did it his way. "I won't say I beat New Zealand's culture but I was never going to accept their culture. It was a `make sure we can't lose before we think about winning' culture. That's not me. I'm looking to win from the moment I walk on that park."

A mischievous thought to conclude with. Was Marsh right when he stated that the post-Waugh generation is not overladen with the gifted? Rixon runs through some names, starting brightly with Michael Clarke but soon tapering away. Not one bowler among them. "You've got a point. And you can forget about spinners. Maybe things are about to change?" Can't quite put a finger on it, but for some reason the confession lacks conviction.