Dennis Lillee, never one to shy away from controversy, walked out to bat in the first Ashes Test at Perth in December 1979 wielding a silver aluminium bat called the "Combat Cricket Bat" — a product he had a financial interest in promoting. The bat gleamed under the Perth sun like a weapon from a science fiction film. It was as subtle as a foghorn in a cathedral, and it caused precisely the amount of chaos Lillee had probably intended.
England captain Mike Brearley immediately complained that the metal bat was damaging the ball. Every time Lillee made contact, the ball came back with scuff marks that looked like it had been attacked by a cheese grater. The metallic "clang" of ball on aluminium was jarring enough to startle birds from the nearby trees. It sounded less like a cricket shot and more like a saucepan being dropped down a flight of stairs.
What followed was a farcical 10-minute delay as umpires, captains, and officials argued about whether the bat was legal. Technically, the Laws of Cricket at the time didn't specify that bats had to be made of wood. This was like discovering a loophole that allowed you to drive a tank on a motorway because the highway code only mentioned "vehicles." Everyone knew it wasn't right, but nobody could point to the specific rule that forbade it.
Australian captain Greg Chappell sent a message out asking Lillee to change bats. Lillee refused. Chappell sent another message. Lillee still refused. The dressing room attendant was making more trips to the middle than a shuttle bus driver. Finally, an exasperated Chappell marched out to the middle himself to order Lillee to switch bats.
Lillee's response was to hurl the aluminium bat 40 metres down the pitch in a spectacular tantrum. The bat bounced and clattered along the wicket as players scattered, making a racket that could be heard in the outer suburbs. It was part protest, part performance art, and entirely Lillee. The Laws were subsequently changed to specify that bats must be made from wood. The original aluminium bat sold at auction years later for a tidy sum, proving that in cricket, even the instruments of chaos can be profitable.