Can Anyone Hear Me? (12 page)

One encouraging sign that came out of the Bombay Test was
that Mike Gatting, in his 54th Test innings, at last made a rearguard hundred, as England, not without the help of some strange umpiring decisions, slid towards defeat.

So David Gower's team came to Delhi one down, but they started encouragingly enough, with Sunil Gavaskar out in the second over and two more falling to the spin of Pat Pocock and Phil Edmonds before lunch on the first day. Between them they snared another three before tea was taken at 144 for six.

Kapil Dev and the wicket-keeper, Syed Kirmani, got stuck in and made sure there were no more losses on the first day, which ended with India 208 for six.

Kapil was caught behind off Richard Ellison from the second ball of the second day. It was a golden opportunity for England, but each member of the Indian tail got into the twenties and it was half an hour after lunch when their innings ended at 307.

At the heart of England's reply was Tim Robinson, opening the innings. He became the rock. By the end of the second day he had reached a half century out of England's 107 for two.

Continuing after the rest day with Allan Lamb, he went on to add 110 for the third wicket. By the time he reached his first Test hundred in mid-afternoon, England were five wickets down and he had been batting a little over six hours.

His partner now was Paul Downton and the pair reached their hundred partnership at the close of the third day, with England now very handily placed, 30 runs ahead, with five wickets still in hand.

Everyone seemed in euphoric mood at the way England dominated the day. Even the three wickets that did fall were shrouded in controversy, but the situation made the evening's
party at the British High Commission even more enjoyable.

In the third over next morning, however, Manoj Prabhakar made Robinson his first Test victim, caught at slip for 160. But England's innings still had legs, with Downton batting with the tail. He was eighth out, one of six wickets for the leg spinner, Sivaramakrishnan, for 74. His four wickets after lunch finished England off for 418, a lead of 111.

Starting their second innings mid-way through the fourth day, India's priority was safety. So losing two wickets to Norman Cowans inside the first seven overs was not the ideal start for them. But Gavaskar was still there and with him was Mohinder Amarnath. Together they batted through to the close of play, by which time they had taken India into a slender lead of 17. It was a platform at least, with only two wickets down, from which they should make the game safe on the final day.

England's hold on the game has loosened slightly. The lead wasn't quite as big as they would have liked and then, despite getting two early Indian wickets, they found Gavaskar and Amarnath immovable in the evening. A draw looks the most likely result.

In the second over of the last day Edmonds got one to turn sharply and bowl Amarnath for 64. An hour later Gavaskar was bowled by Pocock for 65. Four wickets were down with the lead 61.

But time was running out for England. Sandeep Patil and Ravi Shastri took it up to lunch and the lead to 93. It was 96 when
Patil was caught at mid-wicket, sweeping Edmonds, for 41.

Kapil Dev, the new batsman, had been told by his captain to delay playing his big shots until the match was absolutely safe. The next over it became apparent that Kapil reckoned that a lead of 97, with five wickets in hand and three hours left in the match, was safety enough. He hit Pocock for a big six, to take the lead past 100 and then next ball he tried to do it again. Allan Lamb held the skied catch at mid-off. It was 214 for six.

Three overs later it was 216 for seven, with Gaekwad out. Kirmani followed at 225 and Yadav at 234. When Pocock held a return catch off Sivaramakrishnan, India were all out for 235, leaving Shastri high and dry on 25. In 26 overs since lunch, they had lost six wickets for 31. The two England spinners, Pocock the off-spinner and Edmonds the left armer, had each taken four.

England needed 125 in two hours. In the tenth over they lost Robinson, thrown out from silly point by Vengsarkar. The mandatory last twenty overs started with 74 needed and only one wicket down. Two overs later, Vengsarkar swooped again, this time for a catch off Fowler, who had made 29.

But the momentum was very much with England and Lamb, coming in to join Gatting, was not going to let it slacken. By the time they were half way through the last twenty overs, they were only thirteen from victory and they won by eight wickets, with eight and a half overs to spare. From being one down in the series, they had come back at the first opportunity to get on level terms.

In India, despite his massive charisma, it was Kapil Dev who was held up as the villain of the piece. The selectors dropped him for the third Test in Calcutta, due to start on New Year's Eve.
They even resisted an attempt from the Board to add him to the squad, which, in the politics of Indian cricket, represented quite a triumph for the captain, Sunil Gavaskar.

In Kapil's absence, though, there was no urgency in India's approach to the match. Even the umpires never seemed particularly keen to get on with the game when the Calcutta smog settled over Eden Gardens. The elements played their part in providing rain and the Indian first innings drifted into a fourth day.

The match could only be a draw, but the fourth Test in Madras provided plenty of action, with Graeme Fowler and Mike Gatting both making double hundreds and Neil Foster taking eleven wickets in the match to give England a two-nil series lead, which they preserved with a draw in the final Test in Kanpur.

Uniquely England had come from behind to win a Test series in India.

I
sometimes think the great secret, known by people who have toured the West Indies but not always fully comprehended by those who have not, is that they are all different countries who come together really only for cricket (and as far as some partisan supporters are concerned, barely for that – at home, at least). This certainly makes the travelling more arduous, with each journey being an international flight, involving a change of currency, customs and all the rest.

On a Caribbean tour it is noticeable how little sympathy and support you will receive from those confined to offices and studios in London. Tell them you are in the West Indies and all they can imagine is a sun-kissed beach. That is inevitable, but it's not really fair. Not all the West Indian locations are holiday resorts and anyway working in a holiday environment is always difficult. Hotels, and indeed sometimes whole islands, are simply not geared up for their visitors to be on business.

That said, I am not calling for any sympathy for having been able to get my toes on the sandy beaches of the likes of Barbados and Antigua. The West Indies can charm you, even when you are trying to get things done in an environment where mañana can seem like indecent haste.

My first landfall in the West Indies was far from the
traditional view of palm trees on a beach. It was in the thriving, bustling city of Port-of-Spain.

My first sight of the West Indies was impressive. I was lucky to be at a window on the left of the BWIA plane to see the island of Tobago and then the northern coast of Trinidad, with thickly wooded mountains, which almost seemed to brush the wing-tips. Then Port-of-Spain appeared under the left wing and we passed right over the Queen's Park Oval on the way into Piarco airport.

A wall of heat hit us in the face as the plane doors opened and the sights and smells as the taxi took me into the city were more reminiscent of the Indian sub-continent than I had expected from the Caribbean.

This was the first occasion that we had sent a producer on a tour of the West Indies. Up to that point any commentary that had been taken by the BBC had come from whichever the local station was, with our man added to the team. The quality had been patchy. In advance of this tour, I had – I hoped discreetly – consulted with contacts in the West Indies about which radio stations would be best to join forces with and in which countries it would be best to do our own thing. I was to find out how touchy the various islands can be on this sort of issue and in retrospect it would have been wiser to have committed us to one or the other policy throughout. In fact, after this experience, that is what we did.

Trinidad was one place where we were combining forces. This occasionally presented the odd problem.

I was at the ground just over an hour before we were due on the air for the first one-day international, in order to do the first report on conditions for Radio 2. Unfortunately no one from Radio Trinidad was there to unlock the box and I had the frustrating sound of my phone ringing inside, without being able to get at it.

After the game was abandoned to the rain, our post-match duties were quite light but as I was having dinner later I was told that all our conversation with London as we waited to record at the close of play had been transmitted live over Radio Trinidad. I hope we were restrained in our language.

Both the Trinidad one-day internationals were rained off. I was to discover over future trips that this was not at all unusual for this island.

The Test match there on this tour was also affected by the weather in its latter stages. A tight game left England with only 151 to make in the best part of the whole of the last day.

The West Indies bowling was as hostile as ever, but progress was encouraging until Gooch was hit painfully on the left hand by a ball from Ezra Moseley. He retired hurt and went off to hospital for an X-ray. Then, half an hour before lunch, rain brought them off at 73 for one, with 78 more needed.

We waited through a frustrating afternoon. When conditions were again declared fit by the umpires, it was fairly clear that the West Indies players – and, indeed, a fairly lethargic groundstaff – did not agree.

Because of a deplorable over-rate in the morning, there were still ten overs to go before the statutory last twenty started. Gooch's hand had been announced as only ‘bruised', but, having seen his agony, we did not expect him to bat.

The West Indies bowlers started on a session of the slowest progression through overs I have ever seen. Those first ten overs took an hour and a quarter. You could barely see Ezra Moseley moving as he walked back to his mark.

The light was fading, with the last twenty overs being started fifteen minutes after the scheduled close of play. And then wickets started to fall to Walsh and Bishop.

Eventually, with only 31 runs needed, David Capel and Jack Russell, the batsmen, had to concede that it was now dangerously dark in the face of that fast attack and in these conditions, with five wickets down and Gooch injured they could even lose. So they accepted the third offer of bad light and the match was drawn

As I walked down the ground to the pavilion for close of play interviews, I could appreciate that the bowlers' run-ups were indeed, quite wet.

In the usual bedlam at the end, I interviewed Gooch and Malcolm and discovered that Gooch's hand really was broken, but he had not wanted either the West Indies or his own side to know. But he confirmed that, even with the injury, he would have come in next.

Returning to the commentary box, I had to relay this to CMJ, who
had recorded all his pieces and was ready to leave, but now had to re-do the lot. It was very dark when we left the Queen's Park Oval.

Four years later I was to leave the same ground in a state of shock after a devastating piece of fast bowling had shattered England's aspirations.

For most of the course of that 1994 Test, England had the upper hand. They had already suffered heavy defeats in Jamaica and Guyana, but here in Trinidad Chris Lewis and Angus Fraser first dismissed the West Indies for 252 and then saw the batsmen take a lead of 76, with Graham Thorpe to the fore. Six second innings wickets for Andrew Caddick meant that England needed just 194 to win. It should have been less, but for a late rally by the West Indies, helped by a couple of dropped catches.

I was doing the commentary as England's second innings started, after a brief shower had left fifteen overs of the fourth day's play to go. I can still vividly remember my horror as Atherton propped half forward to the first ball from Ambrose and was lbw. And my cry of ‘Oh, no!' is in the archives, as I watched the inevitability of the run out of Ramprakash in the same over. It was one for two and I was happy to pass the microphone to Vic Marks.

Curtly Ambrose was bowling like a man possessed. Courtney Walsh was just his support act on this occasion, but the pride of these two great fast bowlers seemed like a force of nature, utterly determined to deny England their comeback victory. Robin Smith was bowled leg stump in Ambrose's second over, Hick went in his fourth and Stewart in his fifth.

Walsh at last got in on the act by removing Ian Salisbury, but Ambrose was back to dispose of Russell and, in the last over
of the day, Thorpe. I was back on commentary for that one and I can still remember clearly the shell-shocked look on Graham Thorpe's face as he was bowled by the sheer, blinding pace. In those fifteen overs the match had effectively been lost. England were 40 for eight at the close of play.

The only question now was whether they could avoid their lowest ever score of 45. They did, but only by one, when Walsh cleaned up the last two wickets within twenty minutes on the final morning. The West Indies had secured the series – three-nil up, with two to play.

England's next performance was almost more horrible, as they slid to defeat at the hands of a West Indies Board XI in Grenada. With the Barbados Test to come next – on a ground where the West Indies had not lost a Test since 1935 – no one had any great expectations.

Over the last twenty years, for England at least, playing in Barbados has become almost like playing at home, as far as support goes. This is also the part of the tour when the families arrive. Who can say whether it was this, or shame at what had gone before, but suddenly it was a different team.

After the collapses in Trinidad and Grenada, England were put in to bat, understandably, by Brian Lara. It was well over half way through the day before they lost their first wicket. Atherton and Stewart had started with a stand of 171, Stewart going on to a century when Atherton had gone for 85.

A burst of Ambrose on the second morning kept the total to 355. But now came Angus Fraser's finest hour. He recorded the best figures ever by an England bowler against the West Indies, who could have been out for a lot less than their 304. But, as in Trinidad, Chanderpaul, batting with the tail, helped to see too many runs added by the last two wickets. The innings ended with Phil Tufnell, never traditionally the safest pair
of hands, waiting under a skier. He caught it and it gave Fraser his eighth wicket, for 75.

Angus Fraser is known for a slightly gloomy expression and that might owe something to occasions like this, when his great bowling effort was pushed out of the limelight by Alec Stewart's second century of the match – the first England batsman to achieve that feat against the West Indies. With the contributions of Thorpe and Hick, England were able to declare shortly after tea on the fourth day and set the West Indies 446 to win.

This time it was Andrew Caddick who took the honours, with five wickets. Tufnell took three and after 59 years, England had at last won in Barbados

The two countries where we decided to mount our own commentary in 1990 were Guyana and Antigua, both places where the politics seemed to be closely woven into everything, radio broadcasting being no exception.

We came to Guyana from Jamaica, where a shared commentary with Jamaica Broadcasting Corporation had worked very well. England had not visited the South American country since their enforced exit in 1981, following the row over Robin Jackman's inclusion in the team, so this was a big moment. Tales about the country were not encouraging, but the welcome we received was genuine and the Pegasus hotel on the sea front turned out to be much better than anticipated, even if it did have the world's worst pianist in its restaurant.

Communications were still fraught, with (we were told) only eight international telephone lines out of the country. Getting a call on one of them was a hit-or-miss business and required a lot of patience. And trying to get through from the hotel was, we quickly discovered, a waste of time, because all
the eight international lines had been transferred to the cricket ground for the duration of our stay.

Money changing was to be another interesting business. The official government rate for Guyanese dollars was wholly unrealistic, so illegal deals had to be struck with taxi drivers in a remote corner of the hotel car park.

One other thing marked the start of our time in Guyana – for me, at least. Our journey from Jamaica had been tortuous. While a direct flight might perhaps have taken a couple of hours, we landed at Puerto Rico, Antigua and Barbados in turn, before having to overnight in a rudimentary airport hotel in Trinidad. Then early next morning it was the short hop to Georgetown.

Just to spice up proceedings, as we backed off the stand at Kingston I had seen a number of cases left on the tarmac and recognised mine among them. The passenger sitting immediately in front of me had also seen his. His name was Viv Richards, so the cabin crew were instantly alerted and they reassured us that our cases would catch up with us. It was to take a fairly unpleasantly sweaty 36 hours, however, before they did so.

The hotel was a pleasant surprise – as indeed Georgetown was after its build-up. I even had the press liaison officer at the airport come up to me and say, ‘We must meet at the ground this afternoon, to site your commentary position'. I was greatly encouraged.

My optimism was entirely misplaced, as the man failed to turn up at all and the local radio sports producer who was going to be in charge of GBC's broadcast seemed unaware of our intentions, although we had corresponded on the subject long before I left England. The politics kicked in on the following
afternoon, when I was taken to the GBC offices to meet the general manager.

She denied that they had heard anything from us about our plans, even though I was holding a copy of their letter of reply. Eventually their line was that they had passed everything on to the cricket board. The Georgetown Cricket Club themselves, the owners of the Bourda ground, turned out to be much more helpful. They allocated me my preferred space and I engaged a carpenter to make the required alterations.

However, GBC were to have the last laugh when the one-day international started. We were still dependent on their technical support and the engineer arrived late and with no idea how to work their equipment. Then I was told there were no lines. Then that ‘There is some question of payment', that ‘There are negotiations' and finally, ‘There has been no booking'.

Meanwhile, on a lucky hit with a call to London, I discovered that on the line that we had been told did not exist, intermittent GBC commentary was being heard.

The local telecom company promised better things for the Test match which followed. In the event, it didn't follow. Days of rain caused the ground in what is a city below sea level to flood. Fish were found swimming on the outfield as the drainage ditches round the ground overflowed.

I have never seen a wetter cricket ground than this. More rain all night had left the press box and commentary box marooned. It was impossible to get to the press box without wading through water at least six inches deep. The commentary box could be approached – with difficulty – along
the stands. The engineer arrived, wired up the mixer and then disappeared. I discovered how to connect the solitary microphone and switch the antique equipment on and we gathered round CMJ to do a half hour's chat for
TMS
, before returning to the rather drier hotel.