The last conversation!

The final chapter from The Rocking Chair Test - out today!

I am excited to say today is a great day as it is the day my first book ‘The Rocking Chair Test’ is finally launched. 🎉📚🎉

Here is the link for those interested in purchasing a copy for themselves or copies for their people, teams, rising stars, unsung heroes, new starters and/or top performers. I have always been a passionate believer in linking reward/recognition to development:

👉👉👉👉👉 https://amzn.asia/d/d0bP52M

This is the link to the Australian Amazon site but the book is available via the Amazon site in your repsective country (both Kindle and paperback).

To mark this momentous day I wanted to share the final chapter of this first book which will feature at the start of my second book.

The final conversation: Balsall Common, Coventry, England - December 2019

In late 2019, my father passed away. I had travelled to Balsall Common from Australia’s Gold Coast, where I now live, to see him before he died. I stayed with my parents at 631, the house I grew up in and after which my business, GiFT631, is named. We both knew this would be our final time together and we had numerous important conversations.

One conversation we had had many times before, but this time, my dad spoke with greater meaning and purpose. He was passing on a message which hit me hard. It took some time to reflect and a walk along a Gold Coast beach with a friend, Nick Bloor, to really understand his intentions and give this conversation greater context.

Dad had been a great cricketer—a quick bowler who also batted with a classical style, taking many wickets and scoring plenty of runs. He was a very handy table tennis player and golfer, too. His cricketing ability led him to being offered a professional contract by Warwickshire in the 1950s. He turned it down, believing he was not talented enough to go beyond county cricket and there wasn’t enough money in that level to make a good living.

In his late 50s and early 60s, he was still playing for Berkswell CC—the same club as my brother Philip and me.

👉This is a photo of our family team - the Fell XI: standing: M Fell, L Fell, R Fell, S Fell, J Fell, C Fell, sitting: T Fell, IJS Fell (my late father) PWM Fell (my brother), D Fell and AJM Fell (myself) taken in 1985. Missing is G Fell 🏏

I was a promising opening batsman but not as dedicated to the game as my father was. I had trialled for Warwickshire at 15 but did not do myself justice. To be honest, I did not want it enough. I lacked the commitment and determination to reach that level. I enjoyed playing for Berkswell CC in the local league. However, my dad wanted it for me more than I wanted it for myself. He kept pushing me to train harder and be more focused on the game. It was as if he wanted to replay his life through me. It made me realise you cannot want something more than someone wants it for themselves. The more you push, the more they push back.

During one game in the summer of 1983, I was batting, and my dad was umpiring. I had scored 87 runs. Batting was easy, until I hit a poor delivery straight into the hands of a boundary fielder. It was a lazy and terrible shot. I was disappointed in myself as I was 13 runs short of what would have been my first century (100 runs in one innings).  As a side note, I scored one shortly afterwards.

My dad told me after the game, the bowler turned to him as the umpire and said, “That lad just threw away a century.”

Dad never forgot the bowler’s words, the shot I played, or what I threw away in that moment. I believe the incident summed up his feelings about how I wasted the talent I had been given.

Between 1983 and late 2019, Dad raised that shot and told that story so many times. All of my children can retell the story.

It also became our final conversation.

He spoke with more intensity and disappointment than ever before. It became the worst shot he had ever seen from the worst delivery that had ever been bowled. He challenged me hard, asking how I couldn’t have seen the fielder and why I put the ball ‘straight down his throat’.

The intensity of his words rocked me a little. It was not what I was expecting.

What was he trying to say?

After walking along the beach and talking with Nick, I realised it was not about cricket. Dad was imploring me to use what I had to the best of my ability. It was about finishing what I started. It was my POTENTIAL.

I have not lived up to my potential in sport, business, or life, and he knew this. He was encouraging me in a language we both understood to do better and go for it. I rethink that conversation frequently and replay his words as follows:

“Find the extra 13 runs to finish the job (score a century). Be the best version of you. Be amazing. Use your talents to the maximum and strive to reach your true potential. Live life to the full. Share your GiFTs so others can benefit too.’

Whether this was his intention or not I will never know. What I do know is I live my passion daily. I work hard to become ever better, and I am committed to sharing all I have learnt with others. I am determined to pass the rocking chair test and do all I can to help others do the same. It has become my mission.

This book is dedicated to him and all those who have helped me on my journey to date, some of whom are named in this book. Many others have made a difference, some even without knowing. I thank you all.