Andrew Strauss: ‘I was the black sheep of the family’

My parents landed in the UK from South Africa in 1986. Right from ball one it was whatever you do, be the best. Dad was an insurance broker, a smart guy who did well for himself, and he and Mum were extremely ambitious for me and my three academically achieving older sisters. They expected us to work hard and be top in everything — it was just the way they saw the world.
San is six years older, so she was always quite a long way ahead. I was only five when she went to boarding school, but I remember my sisters all working hard and my parents pushing them hard. There were some fairly explosive rows and verbal jousting at the dinner table. I was the black sheep for not going down an established career path — San is an oncologist, Gillian is a vet and Colleen an accountant. I don’t think any of them would choose to watch a cricket match if I wasn’t in it.
San has always been the kindest in the family. She’s chosen to work with kids with sarcoma, a relatively rare and difficult form of cancer. She’s doing research, teaching and looking after patients all at the same time. But she’s also the one who has always looked out for others in the family. She has the least time of anyone I know, yet she’s the most likely to give it freely.
I cannot overstate the role that San played all the way through my wife Ruth’s illness. Like so many people we knew nothing about cancer until we were in it ourselves. Ruth got the initial very stark news from our GP in early 2018. Her scans showed what we’d thought was a cough was lung cancer that had spread. San was the first person I called. She calmed us down and helped us navigate the best place to be treated, and explained test results and treatment — she held our hands all the way. It was a harrowing journey, a rollercoaster of emotions: shock and disbelief, confusion, absolute despair, grief. I’d never appreciated this is the world San inhabits every day and it gave me so much respect for what she does. There’s alchemy involved in talking to patients who are terrified and that’s San’s great skill. She connects emotionally but also does this incredibly difficult clinical job.
My whole family circled the wagons for a long time after Ruth died in December 2018, but I think I’ve been relatively self-sufficient on the day-to-day stuff with our boys — Sam is 18 and Luca 16. Where San has been unbelievable is with the Ruth Strauss Foundation, which Ruth sketched out for us. When she knew she was dying, she accepted it totally. Her focus was on making sure the boys and I were prepared and helping other families prepare for the death of a parent. San is a trustee and on the medical research advisory group into nonsmoking lung cancers. She gives so much time to making the foundation the best it can be.
When I was playing cricket I was away from home for three hundred nights a year, so for the best part of a decade my team-mates became my family. I was good at not being emotional, so this journey with Ruth and understanding the importance of expressing feelings has been illuminating. Grief hits me in unexpected ways; it’s often connected to being a single parent and have I made the right decision? Out of all the family, San is by far the easiest to talk to about all these complex feelings. Her achievements are unbelievable and unheralded — as a medic and a sister. I feel guilty that it wasn’t until Ruth was ill that I realised the magnitude of what San does.
I was the middle of three girls born over three years, so we were this rather intense pack. Andy was born six years after me and we doted on him. We were all very much encouraged into an established profession; the steer from our parents was that Andy would probably do something financial. He was sporty and he’d been playing high-standard cricket at Durham University, but there was never a conversation about him becoming a professional player, so it was all a bit of a surprise.
There were quite a lot of years when Andy and I didn’t see each other at all. He was at school, I was doing my medical training in London. He played for Middlesex from 1998 and then suddenly it was, blimey, he might play for England. The day of Andy’s debut in 2004, when he scored a century at Lord’s against New Zealand, I was doing research in a lab at St Barts. I listened on the radio, ran over to the ward dayroom to watch the final moments on the TV, then cycled to Lord’s to celebrate.
I got married on December 18, 2004, in London. On the same day Andy was playing in a Test match in South Africa. Dad and I were listening to Test Match Special on the radio in the car on the way to the wedding. Andy had scored another century. It was a great omen.
Ruth and I were pregnant at the same time and our children Sam and Rosie were born within a week of each other, so we shared this lovely bond. Her boys were 10 and 13 when she found out she had cancer. She and Andy needed to know how to navigate the system and I was fortunate to be in the right place at the right time. The doctors I knew at UCLH looked after her. It made me feel better knowing they were in safe hands, which takes away a small part of the terror.
Ruth had stage 4 ALK-positive non-small-cell lung cancer, which affects people who, like her, have never smoked. The most remarkable thing about Ruth was that she knew from day one she would die from her cancer and within a month she said: “If I’m going to die, I’m going to do it well and prepare Andy and my boys.” People with her diagnosis can live five years, but her tumour was chemo-resistant and she only got one.
It was completely agonising to watch Andy alone with his two boys. Nothing takes the pain away. Growing up, we weren’t a caring-sharing family. It was all British stiff upper lip, but Ruth, an Australian, was the opposite. When Andy followed her lead I wasn’t surprised — it was her legacy. She wanted people to talk about death and he has. We still have the scrappy piece of paper where she wrote her ideas before she died and it’s our blueprint for the charity. When we meet we stick it on the wall and take a moment to ask: what would Ruth have wanted?
Working with Andy I’ve seen a different side to him. Obviously he’s a great cricketer, but as his big sister I’m almost more proud of what he’s done since leaving sport. He does things for the right reasons, in the right way. And he’s an exceptional dad. Our entire family is far closer than we’ve ever been — so from this terribly sad situation an unexpected bond has emerged.ruthstraussfoundation.com
Andrew on SandraShe covers everything she eats in balsamic vinegar
Sandra on AndrewWhen he walked out to bat he’d always flick his heels five times and loop his bat three times
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