When I was a young boy I was lucky enough to visit Noosa with my family one summer holiday. Coming from Canberra it was a bit of an eye opener and while any real surfer would deny Noosa has a surf culture, there were certainly enough surf shops to give the impression of such. One of those shops had a rack of t-shirts out the front emblazoned with the motto ‘Eddie would go’. I had no idea who Eddie was or where he would go, so I researched it at some point later and found out about the story of Eddie Aikau.

Eddie was a Hawaiian surfer and life guard renowned for taking on the biggest waves and pulling off the most incredible rescues. He is credited with over 500 rescues in his time. He died somewhere on the ocean while attempting to find help for the crew of his disabled boat, leaving the relative safety of the stricken vessel to attempt to paddle 12 kilometers to shore to find help. The phrase ‘Eddie would go’ either originated from there, his big wave rescues, or the day of the first surfing competition held in his honour when conditions were so big that organisers were considering calling it off. Then a competitor, Mark Foo, said simply ‘Eddie would go.’

On July 5th, 2021, we lost a brave man named Raj Gilkam. I knew Raj from our family’s mutual involvement in cricket at Marist College in Canberra. Our eldest sons, Omkar and William, had played with or against each other for a few years. We were not good mates, but we were ‘Cricket Dads’ together. Our discussions on weekend mornings were on the state of the weather, the days play, how the boys forward defence shot was looking, the condition of the pitch and the latest cricket results. Raj was a quiet man who just loved watching Omkar play and his son, in turn, had a deep love and respect for his father and all that he taught him. The team the boys played together in one year did exceptionally well; they were a close knit team, as were the parents on the sideline. Raj was a constant presence and joined by his wife Silpa and daughter Sreya as often as possible. In the grand final that year Omkar had a blinder, catching everything that came his way, throwing down the stumps for a cracking run out and batting the team into contention for a win against their previously unbeaten opposition. Raj’s smile couldn’t have been bigger.

Raj died a true hero. He and his family were at a usually benign beach when young Sreya appears to have been caught in a sudden rip while near shore. Without fear or hesitation, Raj plunged into the ocean to rescue Sreya.

20 odd years in the Army taught me that the bravest, most courageous, and most valorous of acts come when you are presented with a dangerous situation, and you go anyway; when you are faced with an event where you know you will likely perish, and you go anyway; when you are faced with the death of a child and you will do literally anything under the sun, move heaven and earth to save them. Even at the cost of your own life. You go.

Whatever Raj thought in those few seconds before he plunged into the deadly surf after his daughter, he went anyway. Without hesitation. I don’t know exactly what happened out there but Raj would have struggled mightily against the surf to save Sreya, seeking to move the heaven, earth and the surf to reach her. I know that Sreya was thankfully saved after her father’s efforts by life savers and locals. That Raj was reached some 300 metres from shore but could not be revived. I do know that while Raj died, that he died heroically. He is forever one of my heroes.

The weekend following Raj’s death three cricket teams in the local winter competition came together for a minute’s silence to honour Raj. Two of those teams were made up of fathers and sons from the Marist Cricket Club – William and I play in one of them. Playing with William has been one of the most enjoyable seasons that I’ve had in a remarkably average cricket career. I feel deeply for Omkar knowing that he and Raj won’t have the opportunity to have those Sunday morning discussions, the net sessions, the analysis of the Australian and Indian batting line ups again. We’ll do the best we can to assist; our cricket and school family will get around Silpa and the children. We will honour an incredibly brave man and his sacrifice as best we can. We will do our best to ensure that Omkar can continue to enjoy the game that brought Raj and him so much joy together. I don’t know where Sreya’s sporting prowess may lay but we can help there as well.

It is not for me to define Raj’s legacy of course. But if ever I am faced with a situation like that, where my kids may be at risk, I hope that I show a modicum of the same selflessness, courage and commitment that Raj did that day on the beach. I’ll want to live up to his example.

After all, Raj would go.