Phillip Hughes' death has changed cricket forever at all levels Great day: Marcus North, Phil Hughes and Ben Hilfenhaus after being presented with their Baggy Green Caps in Johannesburg in 2009.` Rummaging through pads and sweat-soaked gloves, at the bottom of the kit lies the helmet you always convince yourself you should wear, but never do. Red, of all colours. And there it is, the first thought of Phillip Hughes. Black armbands, a minute's silence and "PH 63" etched on to the back of the helmet. This is no ordinary afternoon of park cricket in Sydney's west. The butterflies and excitement have been replaced by jitters and a sense of nervousness that kick in on your way out to the middle. And there it is again. Helmet shuffled umpteen times, hands rubbing the back of your head to see what area it actually protects. "Leg to leg, please umpire," as images of Tuesday's tragic accident begin to flash through your mind. Suddenly you're not thinking about field placings or footwork, but "What if?" Your weekend sanctuary is no longer the safe haven you thought it was, and even the sound of stumps being ripped out of the ground behind you bring some relief. These are the emotions that would have been felt around the world over the weekend, as the game of cricket picked itself back up off the canvas. But if the death of Hughes could have such an impact on millions who never met him, what will it do to those who held him close to their hearts. What will be running through David Warner's mind the first time he walks out on the Sydney Cricket Ground, when he looks down at the pitch his friend lost his life on? How does Michael Clarke ever order a Mitchell Johnson short-ball onslaught, and how does Johnson intentionally target the head of an opponent knowing the ramifications of what a knock to the skull could do. Have we seen the last of an Australian batsman wearing the baggy green cap out in the middle, and does the helmet become mandatory? With the ball in hand, hesitation in digging it in short has never crossed the mind. But given the events of the past week, and the fact not one ball got up even close to the head in the first innings, the thought of targeting someone's head was incomprehensible. Reaching the top of your run-up, it's only natural for urges to dig one in cross your mind, especially after you've been dispatched to the boundary the previous ball. But then you remember, and tell yourself: "It's just not worth it." Those are the thoughts the Australian cricketers will have to contend with for the rest of their lives, long after the rest of the cricketing world resume normal order. The touching scenes in the United Arab Emirates during the week, when the New Zealanders didn't celebrate their wickets or bowl any short balls, showed just how much Hughes' death has rocked the sport. So too the support on social media, evoking tributes and reaction that once would have gone unheard. The #putoutyourbats campaign is a prime example of how social media has changed the grieving process, allowing communities abroad to contribute to the overwhelming support for the Hughes family and those close to the kid from Macksville who would have turned 26 on Sunday. On Thursday afternoon, just hours after Hughes' death was announced, an email from the club secretary did the rounds, demanding helmets become compulsory. Some did, others didn't. That's their prerogative. However, Hughes' death will serve as far more than a safety reminder, but the day cricket changed forever.