In the early 1990s—an era packed with frightening quicks—some who faced him insist Spencer was the fastest of the lot.
Born in Lancashire and raised in Perth, he was eligible for England and Australia. In reality, injuries prevented him from representing either. To this day, he remains the quickest bowler the Ashes rivals never had.
Viv Richards rated him alongside the sharpest he encountered. Ricky Ponting said the same—before the two nearly fought on the field. Western Australia teammates Ryan Campbell and Tom Moody describe him as “ridiculously” and “terrifyingly” fast.
Early spark
After moving to Australia, Spencer gravitated to cricket. He was a batter as a junior, rarely allowed to bowl because everything sprayed. That changed one day when he filled in for missing bowlers—and suddenly everything clicked. His pace shocked the opposition and Western Australia quickly took notice.
Campbell remembers dreading facing him. “There are only four men I’ve seen who were unbelievably fast—Shoaib Akhtar, Brett Lee, Shaun Tait and Duncan Spencer.”
Spencer was short for a fast bowler—5ft 8in—but broad and powerful. His back paid the price early, requiring surgery at 17.
Moody jokes: “He was a V8 engine inside a Mini.”
His talent took him to Kent through coach Daryl Foster. But English cold and county cricket’s workload hit him hard. He bowled only once in the Championship in 1993—yet produced one spell everyone still talks about.
The Viv Richards spell
In the final Sunday League match of 1993—televised live—Spencer bowled at Glamorgan with the title on the line and Richards batting in his last List A match.
His first ball whistled past Adrian Dale. Everything was either a yorker or a bouncer. Crowds gasped as balls thumped into gloves, ribs or thigh pads.
He struck Matthew Maynard, then Richards walked out to cheers—helmetless.
The next over, Spencer slammed a delivery into Richards’ chest. Another hit his top hand. Even when Richards survived a dismissal due to a no-ball, he acknowledged the speed with a high-five.
Glamorgan won, Richards made 46*, and Spencer walked away with a signed bat plus the memory of a spell still found online today.
A fiery duel with Ponting
Two months later, facing Tasmania, Spencer bowled at a young Ricky Ponting approaching his maiden hundred.
Captain Geoff Marsh told him simply: “Raise hell.”
They traded bouncers, words and threats before almost fighting on the pitch.
Later that night, they settled it over a beer.
His temper wasn’t only saved for opponents—he once floored Justin Langer in the dressing room after Langer tried to “rev him up.”
Career undone
By 1994, Spencer was being whispered about as a possible international pick—then his back gave up completely. He collapsed mid-spell against Middlesex and returned home unable to walk properly.
To manage chronic pain, he took prescription steroids. Once the pain eased, he returned to club cricket. Western Australia unexpectedly picked him again for a one-day match in 2001.
He revived his state career, but after the domestic final he failed a drug test, the first cricketer in Australia banned under anti-doping rules.
He insists the remnants of the medication stayed in his system long after he stopped taking it. The ban crushed opportunities with Kent and Hampshire.
One last comeback
Years later, while working as a fitness coach, he bowled to young Ravi Bopara in the nets. Bopara urged him to play again. That led Spencer to Sussex on trial in 2006, aged 34.
He played two first-class games—his final wicket was Kumar Sangakkara—but admitted his hunger had faded. Across his career he took 36 first-class wickets and 23 in List A cricket.
What might have been
Today, Spencer lives a quieter life working in Western Australia’s mines.
Moody believes he had all the tools for international cricket. Spencer himself says he would have happily played for either England or Australia.
He never knew exactly how fast he bowled. Someone once told him he hit 158 kph off a short run-up. He shrugs at the number.
Modern sports science, T20 leagues, and workload management came too late for him.
As Campbell puts it: “When he got it right—oh my goodness.”
Spencer never collected the records or recognition he might have, but he tasted something few ever experience: the feeling of true, effortless pace.
“When everything synced, it felt easy,” he says. “It felt like medium pace—but it really wasn’t.”
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