So, in the middle of a National Emergency with all of us in confinement, I am listening again to the ball by ball coverage of the 4 th day of the Headingley Test of lasy Summer on Test Match Special.
Last Summer, life intervened in my own personal season of cricket. My mum had suffered a debilitating breakdown and my wife and I were visiting every other weekend, sharing the caring duties with my brother.
Knowing how beautifully poised the game was, it was to the TV that I first turned on that day. England would have to make a record run chase to beat the Australians. Belief, rather than any certainty, piqued my interest and with my mum not having Sky TV, I ended up at the local pub. I was sent packing from there by a family more interested in Premier league football than the cricket and a landlord who made the calculation that a family of four would contribute more to his livelihood than a single man seeking solace in a quiet beer whilst watching the game. I listened to the last two hours of what became a phenomenal victory with the Test Match Special Team.
Listening again has made me reflect on what sort of cricket fan I am and what was it that those two hours told me about the game and the things I get from it.
Cricket is a game that attracts all kinds but for most of those kinds, the introduction to it comes during childhood. Walking to the local first class ground hand in hand with a father, uncle or, less likely, mother or aunt, on days that seemed just as much about what delights were hidden in the picnic box as the sport you were going to watch. Shielding your eyes from the sun as your adult company observed and commented on what was happening a few hundred yards away. Running onto the field of play at lunch and tea with your bat and ball. Gathering around the roped off wicket and wondering what there was to see in a flat, dusty strip shorn of grass. Watching on with admiration as ground staff painstakingly re-marked out the white lines of the popping crease. Seeing the darkened grass footprints of one of your team’s heroes and wondering how on earth they managed to place their boots unerringly in the right place over after over. Sunburnt, full of hard- boiled egg and mini-rolls, the journey home and the retelling of the days play or its less significant observations as father and son chatted in the bronzed light of a Summer’s day at its closing.
For those of us who grew up in the era of TV coverage, that introduction often came without adult company, without culinary treats; without the smell of sun tan cream or closely cut grass; without the immediacy of applause; without the distraction of raised voices; without the calm reassurance of the public address system; without the names of local heroes. The introduction here was Test cricket. The warm welcome of Peter West or the chirpy Australese of Richie Benaud. I remember lying flat on my stomach, chin in my hands, watching David Emery winning the 400m hurdles in the 1968 Olympics. My positioning would have been exactly the same as closed curtains allowed me to watch the Olympians of an English Summer bring excitement and interest into a Welsh semi-detached. For some reason I can only recall Dennis Amiss, rolled up white sleeves, hair splayed across his forehead as he removed his dark blue England cap, battling to score runs against the fast bowling cream of Australia or the West Indies. against a background of the Lords pavillion or the gas tanks at the Oval.
Somewhere along the way, I discovered radio commentary and like thousands before me I arranged to get the best of both Worlds; a clear view of the game over the shoulder of the bowler whilst listening to the action being described by the Gods of the airwaves.
Test cricket, through all the twists and turns of the past 50 years, has remained my greatest love. And always at second hand either on TV or via the radio. As much as I have played (which is not much) or watched County cricket (not much either) it is the battle of the gladiators, the best each country can offer captured by the superlatives of names with which many of those who love the game have become familiar; Arlott, Laker, Trueman, Bailey, Johnston, Frindall, Lewis, CMJ, Boycott, Agnew, Marks, Bannister, Blofeld and Cozier.
Listening again, there were, in no particular order, five powers that struck me. Test cricket . . . the power of five . . .
Number 1 - The power of the summariser - TV is the arbiter of modern memory. If you recall the occupation of Tiananmen Square or the bombing of the World Trades Centre it is more than likely that it is a television image that comes to mind. Remembering sport often becomes a cinematic reprise; ‘They think it’s All Over’ has become the sole reference point for England’s 1966 World Cup victory; Jonny Wilkinson kicking ‘for World Cup glory’ has a similarly narrowed down narrative for English rugby fans. As a Welshman, I remember Wales ‘storming to the title’ in 2013 courtesy of Eddie Butler and Hal Robson Kanu’s Cruyff-esque turn has become the leitmotif of Wales’ 2016 heroics on the European stage.
But with cricket, the memories for me are often of voices rather than images. And though much of this goes back to rainy days when no play opened the door for a flood of reminiscences from the ex- players that are regular contributors to the TMS format. But today’s bunch, stuck in the summariser’s chair, are worth mentioning.
Alistair Cooke is knowledgeable without being patronising. His contributions flesh out the detail given by the commentators and make it easy listening. His polite and polished English tones betray his upbringing. Son of a lay preacher, grammar school and then Cambridge he is old school in more than just manners. He was seen as the last real Test opener England have had; the tempo of his cricket more suited to a piece from Elgar than one from Eminem. His summarising is too. Gentle and understated, not bold and brassy, like another certain summariser who opened the batting for England.
Michael Vaughan comes with a health warning – he loves himself more than most others you would hear in this role. But his contribution is authoritative and amusing. He is ready to put his reputation on the line with a regularity that our risk averse society would find uncomfortable. He has a playful side too. Quick to spot an unusual episode in the crowd and ready to lighten the mood when it felt necessary.
And Boycott, who I remember meeting at Lords in the press area when I visited as a guest of Tony Lewis at the 1982 Gillette Cup Final. I was never really aware of the controversies he was caught up in. I am reminded, often, of some of those he has been caught up in. They make me uneasy. His politics should not affect me but they do. I feel like I should be annoyed by him saying anything but I am surprised myself to say I am not. He talks cricketing common sense and his choice of words, though often annoyingly uncomplicated, take you inside the minds of the players. Like a favourite film viewed in the Director’s cut, he raises the colour and drama of what is unfolding in front of you.
We have been told in recent times that 'we have heard too much from experts'. If I cannot agree with that sentence in general, when it comes to cricket my disagreement with it is extreme. Cricketing experts, despite any of their personal faults, are vital to the informed cricketing supporter. They provide the insight that allows us as spectators to gain much more from the experience. Long may they continue to summarise.
Number 2 - The power of language - Somewhere between the last hour of the third and the morning of the 4 th Day, the commentators began to discover a different form of words. From abysmal, dreadful, stupid and shocking which were some of the epithets given to England’s First Innings of 67 all out, they began to move their descriptions from the worst to the greatest. The probability of defeat was impregnated with the possibility of victory. Courage, discipline, watchful and determined replaced self-indulgent, rash, loose and pathetic.
The day after, the language of the newspapers crescendo’d at the opposite end of the descriptive spectrum. Stokes was a Superman in The Times, ‘Howzat! Out of this World’ screamed the Daily Telegraph, ‘Heroic Stokes inspires thrilling Test win’ beamed the Guardian, ‘Stokes Blaizes his way to sporting immortality’ declared the i paper. Michael Atherton opened what became a front page commentary piece with a quote from Victorian historian and politician Thomas Babbington Macaulay . . . ‘Who will stand, on either stand, And keep the bridge with me?’ It was not the moment for restrained prose or miserly metaphors. Hyperbole was not possible. Understatement was the biggest danger. When a player is described as ‘an unstoppable colossus’ you know you are witnessing something that is beyond the normal sporting encounter. All of this is measured in a ball by ball commentary. Only here does the flow of words drift from the negative to the positive in time with the action on the pitch. Language, so often used to accuse and injure on our social media, can be uplifting and edifying. In expressing the thoughts of one, it can become the voice of the many.
Number 3 - The power of the crowd - Leon Trotsky’s voluminous writings on everything from daily morals in Russia to the history of its revolution, as far as I am aware, had references to cricket that numbered less than the number of players that open the batting. But in the preface to his history he stated something that every cricket journalist has an inkling of – the importance of a partisan crowd.
Trotsky’s statement that ‘the most indubitable feature of a revolution is the direct interference of the masses in historical events’ is something anyone listening back to that commentary would understand. The crowd became an ‘indubitable feature’ of that last day and they became more than passive consumers of an experience. They were actors in the drama, responding to it and, in turn, influencing it with their interventions. Blocks were given the tumultuous response usually reserved for boundaries and their roars seemed to grow into a thunderous cry that was a mixture of angry defiance and the imploring of devotees. Vigorous applause gave way to a throaty exultation when Root and Stokes walked out to bat on that 4 th Day. It was bettered when Stokes hit the first boundary of the day which was, in turn, bettered by the standing ovation as the Stokes and Bairstow walked off for the lunch interval and so it went on. Crowds sometimes instinctively sense that there is something significant that is happening. Never having played professional sport I don’t know if it impacts on the players on the pitch but in some sense that’s irrelevant. The perception is that it does. A crowd can intervene in the battle between the teams and become a factor that influences events.
And all of this can be sensed from far away. Somehow the nature of a crowds intervention seems clearer the less you are distracted by its irrelevancies. I have never really taken to the Test Match atmosphere when I am in the middle of it. Taking my two sons to see the first day/night Test Match in England against the West Indies in 2017 I sat in the Eric Hollies Stand at Edgbaston increasingly depressed as the hundreds around us became increasingly inebriated. But watching the game on TV, what feels pointless and disrespectful in the flesh is amusing and inspiring from a place at a distance.
Sport is nothing without its crowds. They must be sought and they must be encouraged.
Number 4 - the balance between Test cricket and the one-day game - A significant amount of air-time on the 3rd Day was given over to lamenting the amount of one day cricket that England’s players were playing and how it was impacting on their ability to play a proper Test match innings. This is something that I am sure can be proven statistically and is a point of view I wholeheartedly agree with. Test matches finish much more quickly on average than they used to and there will be more batting collapses by all Test teams that will be apportioned to poor shot selection and limited overitis.
The strangest thing about the Ben Stokes innings was that it contained the best of both the Test batsman and the One Day player. His first 56 balls brought him 2 runs and he took 83 balls to reach double figures. He was only on 61 when Jack Leach joined him with 73 runs still to get. The greatest thing you can say about his innings is that it was three innings rolled into one. The first, the period when he first came to the wicket until the Australians took the new ball on that final morning. The mindset was to survive. The shots were limited and some were ruled out completely. He stayed and in staying believed that his time would come. The second took him from there at 159 for 4 to 286 for 9. More attacking strokes and a partnership of 86 with Bairstow that turned the tables on an Australian side that thought the new ball would bring them wickets. It was looking like it could break the Australians. The third took him form ‘brave attempt’ to ‘heroic victory’. So focussed on the task at hand was he that he did not even acknowledge his 100 when it came and the last 73 runs of his innings came and went in a blur of incredibly powerful and inventive strokes that were all taken from the one day repertoire. Which of these was the more important? And would any of it have been possible without the guarded Test innings partnership between Root and Denley on the previous day?
In the end the imponderables are part of the joy. But as the innings was exceptional perhaps so is the player. There are not many players in World cricket who could have matched this innings when taken as a whole but there are many who are used to delivering what was Stokes’ Final Act. Oddly, the innings that seemed to save 5 Day Test matches may well have been a twitch in the body that is soon to be a corpse. The balance between shorter and longer forms of the game is no longer a balancing act. Test cricket is under threat from the commercial imperatives of modern sport AND the technical evolution of those that play it. Ben Stokes innings exemplified this tension. It was box office but who wants to go and see an art house movie on the chance it might be good when you can visit the local multiplex and get an action packed blockbuster that gives you guaranteed entertainment even if the film falls flat?
Number 5 - the power of the ultimate test - Here, I know I am saying nothing new. Test cricket has always and will always be the greatest test for players. The demands it makes on players fitness, levels of concentration, their batting technique and their bowling guile makes it the pre-eminent form of the game.
Ask a bibliophile or a music lover what it is about their particular love that is unique and they will undoubtedly mention its ability to enthral. If the book or piece of music is good enough it will hold you in a state of animated absorption until it ends. How often do we hear the phrase ‘I couldn’t put it down’ or ‘I couldn’t stop listening to it.’
This Test match and, in particular, this final day of this Test, bears repeating but its real attraction is the unknown result. Watched live, a great Test match pulls you in and prevents you doing anything else of substance until it is finished. And, if truth be known, a mediocre Test match can also hypnotise with its changes of fortune and its mini melodramas. It is the peculiar quality of a game that appears slow and uninteresting, for the person willing to engage with its entricasies, provides an emersive experience as stimulating as anything thought up in the boardrooms of the Disney Corporation. This is drama of the best kind. There are heroes and villains, a plot that suggests strong motivations, and a cast of character's whose interaction cannot be pre-determined but whose exploits can leave you breathless or bereft.
All cricket can deliver this but it is Test cricket that provides the greater opportunities for it to happen. A one sided T20 can be a painful experience. A Five Day Test match allows one team to lose a session or two but still come out on top. The opportunities for drama are increased ten fold.
Test cricket emerged at a time when Britain's ruling order were exporting their way of life across the globe. It became a means by which its pre-dominance in World affairs was affirmed. But for all its connections with an imperial past and the national and social hierarchies this underpinned it was a sport that brought men and women with vastly differing backgrounds together. It has threatened the relations between sovereign states; it has allowed once subjugated peoples to demonstrate a new found pride; it has been a lightening rod for all that is noble and fine in the human spirit as well as all that is ignoble and ugly. Its future, like the future of all sport, will be determined by the interplay of forces far beyond its boundary ropes. But it is, for all that, the all consuming passion for the many of us who take an interest in it. It is, for player and fan alike, the ultimate cricketing experience.
I will continue to watch Test cricket where I can and try to combine it with radio commentary. I remain a little boy, chin on hands, staring at Olympians and listening intently as another Summer slips by without us even noticing.