Can Anyone Hear Me? (20 page)

England collapsed in their second innings at Multan, when they looked certain to win. Shoaib Akhtar was the destroyer on the last day as they chased a modest target.

In Faisalabad our accommodation was the Chenab Club. It is a relic of colonial times and not hugely updated, but they went to enormous lengths to provide wi-fi computer access for their journalist guests. It was perhaps reassuring to see the notice on the door of the dining room: ‘MAID/MALE SERVANTS, GUNMEN AND DRIVERS ARE NOT ALLOWED'.

That
second Test was drawn, but some big batting from Pakistan in Lahore took the final Test away from England.

My final tour of India for the BBC began in February 2006, covering warm-up matches at the Brabourne Stadium in Bombay and in Baroda. A number of place names in India have been officially changed over the years since independence. Some have caught on and some have not. Baroda is officially ‘Vadodara', but I never met anyone who called it that and, as soon as you arrive you are greeted by a sign advertising The Bank of Baroda.

When Bombay was officially changed to ‘Mumbai' I was about to set off on a tour to India. I checked BBC policy on this and no one – including the Delhi office – seemed inclined to rule, indeed, all seemed surprised to be asked. What I have found in subsequent visits to India is that no one – at least nobody I dealt with – calls Bombay ‘Mumbai', although one Indian commentator told me that he grew up calling it Mumbai, but then his family spoke Marathi. Most, on the other hand, do call what was Madras, ‘Chennai', so I suppose one should go along with that.

It was in Baroda that we first became aware of problems with Marcus Trescothick, though their nature was a closely guarded secret. The fact that the rest of a fairly substantial sick list was being given to us in gruesome detail, meant the vague remarks about Trescothick sparked wild speculation. It wasn't until several months later that his depression became public knowledge.

Michael Vaughan was already on the injured list, with a recurrence of the knee problem that had kept him out of the first Test in Pakistan.

England lost the match to the BCCI President's XI by eight wickets and by the close of play we had also lost Trescothick from the tour – on his way home for an undisclosed reason. England finished the match with Flintoff in charge.

The injury list was obviously of some concern, because I saw the manager, Phil Neale, having a net. Afterwards it was Michael Vaughan who faced the press, wryly finishing his interview with me with, ‘If this carries on, you could get a game.'

Tomorrow we're off to Nagpur for the first Test.

Two days later, Vaughan's knee had not improved and Flintoff was confirmed as the captain for the Test. Further, they had sent for a batsman from the England ‘A' side in the Caribbean – Alastair Cook. The day after arriving on the tour, he was opening the batting for England – and doing remarkably well.

Arriving at the hotel in Nagpur, I searched early on for a suitable site for the satellite dish. Swimming pool areas are often a good idea for this and – remarkably – this hotel said it had one.

The pool was – quite literally – a rubbish dump, full of builder's rubble, including broken lavatory pedestals and old bits of pipe work, with a pig snuffling through it to see what he could turn up. Thankfully I found ‘the lounge' – a room with not a single stick of furniture in it, but a handy terrace outside which faced the right way for the satellite.

England
had the best of most of the drawn first Test, but in Chandigarh they suffered an all-too-familiar second innings collapse and lost.

While the also all-too-familiar problems of communications and passes had been moderately chaotic in Nagpur, in what purported to be the more sophisticated surroundings of the Punjab Cricket Association at Mohali, they were more deliberately obstructive. Passes were released gradually with great reluctance, and only when they had put the recipient up against a wall to photograph him. I had to go online to find pictures of those who were not making an early visit to the ground.

While the telecom tests on the day before the Test match were ultimately successful, no line appeared on the first morning. We had a problem, because the line of sight for transmission to the satellite, if we needed that back-up, was directly behind us and there was no window or balcony on that side of the building nearer than three floors below our box. My cables simply would not stretch that far. However, we realised that the press box was way below us and I could just about reach a satellite point from the front desk of that.

So we went on the air like that, with cables at full stretch down corridors and across gangways, protected by an abundance of the outside broadcast producer's friend – gaffer tape. There was one other niggling worry with this arrangement, though, because the box on the satellite dish had only an hour and a half's worth of battery.

It took far too long to establish that the problem with our booked broadcast lines was not a fault but a deliberate block put on by the Punjab Cricket Association, who wanted some cash up front. Fifteen thousand rupees was suggested by an elusive official – and it had to be cash. That was the equivalent of about two hundred pounds and a great deal more than I had
in my back pocket. I persuaded him to take a promissory note and said I would sort some cash out for him for the next morning.

He took my letter on BBC headed paper to be counter-signed by five other officials, before reluctantly agreeing that the lines would be opened ‘after some time'. In fact it only took a quarter of an hour.

The London studio suggested waiting until lunchtime to make the switch of commentary positions, but I was not sure we had that much battery time left. When we did change onto the regular ISDN broadcast line, I packed up the dish and found it saying there was one minute left on it!

Before the third Test in Bombay, I got on to the head office of the television company, Nimbus, from whom we had bought the series rights, to ensure that this sort of thing did not happen again. Two days before the Test I was at the Wankhede Stadium.

I got a call from Salil, the man from Nimbus, who said he would be at the ground at 2.30 to discuss the accreditation and the ISDNs. I went down for the second time in the day to meet him. He turned up at 5.30 and knew nothing about ISDNs.

I had been assured that the telecom men would be at the ground by 10 a.m. and Salil had promised to be there ‘first thing'.
He came at 4.30 p.m. The telecom engineers started work at 6.30 p.m. and at 7.45 decided that it was not going to work tonight.

The first day of the Test.

Last night the telecom engineers had said they would be at the ground at 8 a.m., ‘without fail'.

They weren't, of course, but I was there early to get the satellite dish fixed up. I found a narrow ledge on which I could lash it with copious quantities of gaffer tape.

The telecom men arrived at 9.40, ten minutes before we were due on the air. By lunchtime they had Radio 5 and the Asian network positions working and had sorted out
TMS
just before tea.

While all this was going on, we had a rare – indeed unique in my experience – visit from a member of the BBC Sport management, who was appalled at the filth and conditions we were working in, particularly as he was the man who had negotiated the far from cheap rights.

England won that Test match and in the celebration that they had, after all, squared the series, we were joined at the hotel by Stephen Fry, a previous frequent visitor to the commentary box at home.

He came out with us for what was, for some of our party, an end-of-tour dinner at a nearby restaurant. Amazingly, as we were tucking in, the restaurant door opened and Griff Rhys-Jones walked in. The two comedy legends were amazed to see each other and Griff joined the table.

The
evening was not so happy for Christopher Martin-Jenkins, who was the man on whose recommendation we had come to the restaurant. He was, as is his wont, not ready to accompany us when we set off, but said he would join us soon. The evening was then punctuated by a series of text messages of increasing desperation. He had been taken by taxi to another restaurant of the same name and even shown in to a private room where some British businessmen were dining. They were naturally very surprised to see him. Now his driver was lost and confused and from the agitated nature of the texts, so was Christopher. He arrived as we were paying the bill, but a couple of kind-hearted souls agreed to stay with him as he bolted a meal.

Unfortunately, there was almost literally a sting in the tail for CMJ, as that hasty meal laid him low.

This was my eighth trip to India and my last, for the BBC at least. Every time I got on the plane home after one of these trips there would be an inevitable feeling of relief. But there would also be a strong feeling that I would be very disappointed if I never saw this amazing place again.

On Saturday 25 February 2006, Marcus Trescothick left the England team playing its warm-up match in Baroda and flew home. At the time the reasons for this sudden departure were not disclosed. Michael Vaughan was suffering a recurrence of his knee problems and he, too, would shortly be told that his tour was over. Simon Jones followed hard on his heels with a similar complaint.

England moved to Nagpur for the first Test in apparent disarray. With captain and vice captain both out, Andrew
Flintoff would lead the side. As already mentioned, they sent for a replacement opening batsman from the ‘A' tour in the Caribbean – hardly a quick journey to Nagpur. This was the 21-year-old Alastair Cook. The day after arriving in India and getting himself to Nagpur, he was opening the batting for England. His 60 in the first innings and unbeaten century in the second played a large part in England having much the better of a draw.

He had less fortune in the second Test in Chandigarh, where a second innings batting collapse cost England the match.

And so to Bombay, with India leading the three match series one-nil. The start of the match was ill-starred. Steve Harmison was out with an injured shin and Cook had picked up a stomach bug. Ian Bell would have to open the batting with Andrew Strauss.

Maybe these problems in the opposition camp were what inspired the Indian captain, Rahul Dravid, to put England in when he won the toss. It was a big mistake.

By tea on the first day, India had removed only Bell, after which Strauss and Owais Shah had added 106 together. Shah, who had just reached 50, had to retire hurt at the interval, with cramp in the hands, but the runs just came faster in the last session – 114 of them, for the loss of Strauss for 128 and Pietersen for 39. It was 272 for three at the end of the first day.

Shah returned to the wicket next morning when Paul Collingwood was caught behind off Sreesanth for 39. Flintoff, whose presence at the head of the team in Nagpur had seemed to stiffen their resolve, was caught on the boundary for 50 and they also lost Geraint Jones before lunch, which was taken at 345 for six. Ninth out, caught at slip off Harbhajan for 88, Shah helped
three members of the tail-enders club add 52, of which he made 34.

England were all out half an hour before tea for exactly 400 and soon after the interval, Hoggard had removed both openers. Anderson got Tendulkar caught behind for one and India were 28 for three. By the end of the second day, Dravid and Yuvraj Singh had steadied things a little, but they were still 311 behind at 89 for three.

In the second over the next day, Geraint Jones took a diving catch to dismiss Yuvraj off Flintoff for 37, but England approached lunch with
little more encouragement and Anderson had both Dravid and Dhoni dropped off his bowling. Then, in the last half hour of the morning, one stuck, with Dravid at last nicking a ball to Jones for 55. With half the side out, India were still 258 behind.

Now it was up to Dhoni. He lost Irfan Pathan soon after lunch for 26 and then was himself run out by a direct throw from Anderson for 64. It was 212 for seven. That India eventually got up to 279 was thanks to a lively ninth wicket partnership between Anil Kumble, who made 30, and Sree Sreesanth, who was 29 not out at the end.

But India's deficit as England started their second innings late on the third day was 121. With both openers out and only 21 on the board, it didn't look so bad for the home side. They would need a further breakthrough in the morning, though.

But the fourth morning only gave them two England scalps, one of them the nightwatchman, Udal. Still, losing Shah run out in the first over after lunch, meant that half the side were out with the lead only just past 200. So the sixth wicket stand that took them into the final session of the day was invaluable. Collingwood and Flintoff put on a watchful 66 together.

Harbhajan had Collingwood caught and bowled for 32 and
Geraint Jones followed, holing out at backward square leg for three. But Flintoff rode his luck in the face of the spinners, shepherded the tail and got to his 50 before he was ninth out, stumped off Kumble.

England's demise for 191, with Kumble taking four for 49, left India a possible 313 to win and still eight overs of the fourth day to go. But it was Anderson who took advantage of those few overs to bowl the makeshift opener, Irfan Pathan. India were 18 for one at the close of play. While a rate of three and a quarter runs an over was faster than the match had been seeing, it was not an obviously impossible task to make 295 on the last day.

It looked harder at 35 for three after 50 minutes, with Wasim Jaffer and the nightwatchman, Kumble, both out. But Tendulkar and Dravid were still there at lunch and, even with the great Sachin in a lean patch, that represented the potential, at least, to save the match.

The inspiration that England called on in their dressing room during the lunch interval came from an unexpected source. For the men in white, it was the man in black – Johnny Cash. They raucously joined in with ‘Ring of Fire', to ignite themselves for the next session of play.