Season Two — Lisa Sthalekar
TRANSCRIPT
Welcome to the show, Lisa. Thank you so much for your precious time.
Lisa Sthalekar:
That’s okay. I’ve got plenty of time. I’m in Melbourne and I don’t have too many friends, so we can hang out as long as you want.
Steph Hunt:
Now, my husband grew up in West Pennant Hills, and his older brother’s claim to fame is that he played in your cricket team — the West Pennant Hills Cherrybrook Cricket Club.
For years, my in-laws have gone on and on about how proud they are of you. They followed all your achievements. I’ve heard endless stories about how you were the best in the team — better than all the boys.
So my first question is: what was it like back in the 80s and 90s being the only girl playing cricket?
Lisa Sthalekar:
Actually, I remember going to my father and saying, “I want to play cricket on the weekend.”
And he said, “They’re all boys.”
I actually hadn’t even noticed. I just saw kids. I hadn’t really deciphered gender at that point.
This was around 1986 or ’87. We were living on Edward Bennett Drive, opposite the tennis centre, and there were cricket nets out the front.
Dad figured out that the local club was West Pennant Hills Cherrybrook, so he rang them.
Ross Anderson, who was club secretary, said:
“Well, she’d be the only girl. Is she okay with that? Because we’re okay if she is.”
I remember arriving at the nets and sitting in the car thinking:
“Actually, Dad, I don’t want to do this.”
I was nine years old, rocking up as the only girl.
It was daunting, but the boys were amazing.
I had an incredible coach and manager — Mr Twining and Chris Boyd — and they made me feel welcome.
I played junior boys’ cricket for six years.
We won the first two years and got elevated up an age group. These days girls can usually play two years below their age group in boys’ cricket because of the power difference — but I was playing above my age.
We didn’t win as much after that, but I learned so many skills.
And I loved every minute of it.
Steph Hunt:
Back then there weren’t female cricket stars on billboards or TV.
Lisa Sthalekar:
I didn’t even know women’s cricket existed.
I had no idea there was an Australian women’s team.
No idea women had played a World Cup before the men.
If I’d known that, it would have been the perfect answer to all the boys asking:
“Why are you playing cricket?”
And the great thing is how much that’s changed.
Back then if you were a sporty girl, you were called a “tomboy.”
Now that would be ridiculous.
Now it’s just:
“She’s a great athlete.”
Australia has led the way in showing girls that cricket, AFL, football — they’re not just boys’ sports.
Steph Hunt:
I’ve read your dad’s love of cricket inspired you.
Lisa Sthalekar:
Absolutely.
Dad was born and raised in India, and cricket there is religion.
It’s unlike anywhere else.
The knowledge, passion, obsession — it’s extraordinary.
He took us to the SCG when I was little. We’d dress up, wave flags, sit on the hill, watch people get kicked out and join the Mexican wave.
Those are my earliest cricket memories.
And I was daddy’s little girl.
Whatever Dad did, I wanted to do.
Collecting stamps. Model trains. Cricket in the backyard.
Steph Hunt:
Were you teased at school?
And from a young age, were you trying to be hugely successful?
Lisa Sthalekar:
Yes, I got teased.
“Tomboy.”
“It’s not a girls’ sport.”
But then I discovered Gordon Women’s Cricket Club and realised:
Oh — there are more of us.
That changed everything.
Tennis was actually my first love. Living opposite the tennis courts, I’d hit against the wall for hours.
Wimbledon was the first title I wanted to win — not a World Cup.
But around 15, I decided to go all-in on cricket.
That’s when Dad and I sat down and set goals.
He was a counsellor and sports psychologist, so before sports psych was really a thing in Australia, I was writing goals, creating stepping stones and learning how to mentally prepare.
That gave me clarity.
You don’t get to Australia overnight.
You build there step by step.
Steph Hunt:
What are your best sports psychology tips?
Lisa Sthalekar:
Everyone is different.
But the biggest lesson Dad taught me was this:
Don’t get beaten before you even walk onto the field.
If a particular bowler was troubling me, we’d work through that mentally before the game.
I also used visualisation constantly.
The night before big games, I’d mentally play innings.
I’d picture the ground, hear the crowd, see the bowler running in.
Sometimes I’d watch myself like television — checking my technical movements.
Other times I’d be inside my own body, facing the ball.
You’re wiring your brain and muscles so when the moment arrives, your body says:
“I’ve been here before.”
That was huge for me.
Steph Hunt:
You were adopted from India at three weeks old.
What was that experience like growing up?
Lisa Sthalekar:
I thought it was cool.
My sister and I are both adopted, and she felt very differently — more abandoned.
But I loved having a unique story.
As long as I can remember, we were told.
There was never some dramatic reveal.
It was celebrated.
It was just normal.
Steph Hunt:
Did you ever want to find your biological parents?
Lisa Sthalekar:
No.
I went back to the orphanage and they asked if I wanted to.
I said no.
I’ve got wonderful parents.
That’s enough.
Sure, medically it’d be useful to know family history, but honestly?
Lucky door prize.
I’ll deal with whatever comes.
Steph Hunt:
How does it feel returning to India now as a broadcaster?
Lisa Sthalekar:
It feels like home.
Growing up, I never thought I looked different.
I just thought I tanned really well.
But in India, I realised I blended in.
No one noticed me in markets while all the Westerners got hassled.
I thought:
Ah. This is what fitting in feels like.
And since commentating on the IPL every year since 2015, I feel more connected to my Indian identity than ever.
I could absolutely live there.
Steph Hunt:
What was it like moving into broadcasting?
Lisa Sthalekar:
Terrifying.
In 2010 I got five overs on air between Mark Nicholas and Tony Greig.
And I thought:
This is the coolest seat in cricket.
How do I get this job?
There were no women doing it.
I thought maybe there’s a niche here.
So I started hanging around Channel Nine like a bad smell.
Just learning.
Networking, though I didn’t know that’s what it was.
Then after retiring, I freelanced.
And suddenly opportunities came.
ABC Grandstand.
Channel Nine women’s coverage.
Then one day I got a call saying IPL wanted female commentators.
That was my ten-year dream.
Suddenly I was commentating at Eden Gardens to 70,000 people with no idea what I was doing.
Sink or swim.
And I learned fast.
Steph Hunt:
What are your best tips for women wanting confidence on camera or in public speaking?
Lisa Sthalekar:
Don’t script every word.
Have bullet points.
Know your story.
Then trust yourself.
Look people in the eye.
That connection matters.
And tell stories.
People connect to stories.
If it’s your story, you’ll remember it.
That’s how confidence grows.
Steph Hunt:
What do you hope for the future of women’s cricket?
Lisa Sthalekar:
More Test cricket.
We embraced T20 because it helped grow the game financially and professionally.
It worked.
But Test cricket is still the pinnacle.
The challenge is our players don’t get enough long-form opportunities to learn those tactical nuances.
You can’t expect mastery without repetition.
If we want women’s Test cricket to thrive, we need to invest in it.
Steph Hunt:
Do you miss playing?
Lisa Sthalekar:
Not one bit.
The commentary box is much more comfortable.
As you get older, the warm-ups alone nearly kill you.
I still love bowling occasionally and talking a bit of rubbish out there.
But no — I’m happy where I am.
Steph Hunt:
As a mum of two little girls, what should I do to encourage a love of sport?
Lisa Sthalekar:
Get outside with them.
Run.
Climb.
Throw.
Catch.
Play.
And when sport is on TV, explain what’s happening.
Make it familiar.
The reason I loved sport was because it was joyful.
It connected me with Dad.
That’s what matters most.
If they love movement, they’ll carry it for life.
Steph Hunt:
Lisa, thank you so much.
You’ve been so generous with your wisdom and your time.
Lisa Sthalekar:
I don’t know about wisdom.
I think the glasses just make me look wiser.
