November is an exciting time in the Australian cricketing calendar. It heralds the start of the Test cricket season. It usually kicks off in my hometown Brisbane, a fortress, fierce and fast like the afternoon thunderstorms that carry a venomous green tinge, much like the Gabba pitch, sometimes known as the Gabbatoir for good reason. November is also now a month of sadness and melancholy — a time to remember the passing of Phillip Hughes. There was talk that the spirit of cricket had changed forever, that the spirit of Hughes himself hung like a cloud above his mates, reminding us that cricket is merely a game and no more precious than life itself.

David Warner