JUSTIN LANGER: How Steve Smith’s redemption arc offers a blueprint for Ange Postecoglou’s next chapter

Legendary Australian cricketer and mentor Steve Waugh would often encourage us with his wise words.

He would say: “Don’t get too high when things are going well, nor too low when they aren’t. Stay steady, remain grounded regardless of what life throws at you,”

Named the 2004 Australian of the Year, “Tugga”, or “The Iceman”, would tell us to remain even-spirited through the rollercoaster of life.

“Don’t get big headed in good times, and don’t get broken hearted when things don’t go your way. Hang in there, you never know what’s around the corner.”

This is not to say we shouldn’t celebrate success or mourn through grief. Quite the contrary. These are fundamental functions of our emotional lives, that must be experienced and cherished.

How we deal with the sunshine or the rain, the highs and the lows when they pass, is as important as the circumstance presented to us.

We never know what is going to happen next, so soaking up every drop of what is happening now, is a good way to live our life.

Four sporting events in the past week highlight the ups and downs of life and the shadows of triumph and adversity.

American motivational writer William A. Ward wrote: “Adversity causes some men to break; others to break records.”

Is there a greater example of this than Monday’s blue beanies, and this year’s Australian of the Year, Neale Daniher?

What a sight it was on the King’s Birthday weekend in Melbourne.

About 70,000 beanies turning Australia’s iconic sporting venue, the MCG, into a sea of blue.

As Neale sat motionless in his wheelchair, one can only wonder what was going through the mind of one of life’s true gentlemen.

After being diagnosed with motor neurone disease (MND), Daniher used his status and passion to fight for answers to this tragic disease.

As he wrote in his biography When All Is Said & Done: “Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards (attributed to philosopher Soren Kierkegaard). I understand the wisdom of this — right now, I don’t have much ‘forwards’ left.”

Where some would have withered in the misery, Daniher and his family and friends got to work. Since its inception in 2014, Fight MND has raised and strategically invested more than $115 million in the MND battle.

The day Daniher was first diagnosed in 2013, his mind must have been a storm. His family and friends frenzied.

Twelve years on and they have all lived up to the selfless sentiment underpinning FightMND.

On their website there is an ancient Greek proverb: “A society grows great when old men plant trees in whose shade they know they shall never sit.”

It’s no wonder Daniher was awarded the 2025 Australian of the Year. A shining example of making the most of what life throws at you.

Then on Wednesday night I was touched with a sense of sentimentality.

Fire glowing in the background, rug on my lap and a mug of Milo in my hands, I sat and watched cricket’s World Test Championship at Lords in London.

The moment took me back to watching Wimbledon or the Ashes when I was a kid. Back then it was on the ABC, today it’s on a streaming channel.

Let’s hope the Government’s anti-syphoning laws, ensuring the free availability of television coverage of events of national importance and cultural significance, remain firm, so more Australians can watch these great events.

Half an hour in, and a couple of quick wickets into the match, boy wonder Steve Smith marched to the crease.

As he has done so many times before he dug his team out of trouble with a brilliant half century. Conditions were tough, as was his opponent; he was just tougher. And better.

During his innings I couldn’t help but admire the way the former Australian captain has fought back from his self-inflicted wounds.

Some will never forgive him for being the leader of the team when Australian cricket tumbled to its knees through the sandpaper saga. I do.

Having seen Smith publicly humiliated, abused and belittled for his team’s actions, a lesser person would have fallen in a heap and hidden in a cave.

There were times when he would have felt this was his best and only medicine.

Instead, he took every painful barb, and slowly — one step, one day, one ball, one innings at a time — came out of the quicksand and back to the top of the mountain.

Punished, humbled, scarred, he now stands tall. He’ll be missed when he retires from the Australian cricket team.

We should enjoy this period.

Nothing lasts forever. Greatness eventually fades into a memory but is exciting while we witness it in real time.

When he and a few his teammates walk away, a gaping hole will be left. We can only guess what’s around the corner.

This transition of fortune and fate was evident at the other end of the scale last week. An example of triumph shadowed by adversity. The Royal Challengers Bangalore won the IPL for the first time.

After 18 long years, RCB finally lifted their first IPL trophy by defeating Punjab Kings in the final.

The dreams of millions of fans were fulfilled, and the final piece of the puzzle for superstar and RCB pin-up boy Virat Kohli, was achieved.

No team has a greater following in India.

Putting it into perspective, my team the Lucknow Super Giants, played RCB in our final game of the season a few weeks ago. Of the 55,000 supporters there that night, about 50,000 were chanting for Kohli and RCB. No big deal, except it was at our home ground!

Imagine, 45,000 West Coast supporters turning up to Optus Stadium on Sunday night, chanting for Patrick Cripps and Carlton. It’s impossible to comprehend. In India nothing is impossible.

RCB’s celebrations were felt though India. Indian fanfare is nothing like you have seen.

Tragically those celebrations soon turned disastrous when 11 people died in Bangalore the next day.

Gathering for a ticker-tape parade and then a party at the ground, hundreds of thousands of people swarmed like moths to a lamp, bees to honey, rabbits to headlights.

I can picture the chaos.

Having seen firsthand the hypnotic blindness when Indian fans see their heroes, I have experienced how any sense of calm, or sense, is obliterated.

One day, an entire city is euphoric about their beloved team finally achieving glory after years of heartbreak. The very next day, families in the same city are mourning loved ones who were simply there to share in that collective happiness.

It shows how our highest moments can be intertwined with our lowest. You never know what’s around the corner.

Just ask one of Australian sports most revered coaches, Ange Postecoglou.

He is proof that sport, like life, is a game of moments. Over the last few weeks, Postecoglou has lived every gut-wrenching, glorious second of it.

Watching him from afar, I saw a man standing tall in the firestorm — eyes forward, chest out, as the white noise of criticism roared around him.

He lifted Tottenham to European glory, a night in May that felt like a dream painted in navy and white.

Grown men cried. History was made. For 90 minutes, Ange was the poet laureate of North London.

But then came the morning after. The Premier League campaign had left scars — bruises not easily hidden by silverware. Results didn’t lie. Fans divided. The media circled. Yet Ange stayed true.

No spin. No excuses. Just brutal honesty and belief in his vision.

The powers at Tottenham made their call. Ange was sacked. Who would be a coach, I say with a smile and shake of the head. One minute a hero, the next shown the door. The fickleness of it all.

Whatever happens next? Who knows, but one thing’s for certain, Postecoglou walks away having changed the game. He made them dream again. And as a fellow Aussie, I couldn’t be prouder.

Because in the theatre of English football, Ange didn’t just play a part — he rewrote a scene. With courage. With class. And with his head held high.

He, like Neale Daniher, Steve Smith and RCB will rise again.

All the greats do, because they heed the advice, “don’t let success go to your head or failure go to your heart”.