My Hundred: The Final Five

5: Joel Garner

The West Indies record books will rightly laud the wicket-taking achievements of Marshall, Walsh and Ambrose but it could be argued that Joel Garner was the superior all-round bowler. Somerset scouted him from League cricket in 1977 when he was already 24 and pretty soon not only was he making a huge impression in county cricket but also as part of the West Indian pace battery.

At 6 feet 8, his name was rarely mentioned without being accompanied by ‘giant’. It might not seem so exceptional these days but forty years ago he seemed freakishly tall. I recall standing next to him in 1981 on the Bath outfield during a pre-match warm-up and, when he released the ball, feeling I was in the company of an alien being, such was his height. Of course ‘Big Bird’ used those formidable wings to great effect, generating unlikely bounce off a length and considerable pace from a short, loping run-up. Add in his unplayable yorkers and he had the perfect game for one-day cricket in particular. He was sensational for Somerset in their glory years but his career highlight was probably that explosive 5-39 in the ’79 World Cup Final.  Imagine what he would have been like as a ‘death’ bowler in Twenty20! 

4: Dennis Lillee

In a decade famed for its aggressive fast bowlers steaming in from a forty-metre run, Dennis Lillee was the original and best of the lot. With straggly locks and that moustache, his was the defining image from the 1972 Ashes series when I was just 11. A stress fracture of the back almost ended his career a year later but then, reining in the pace a touch, he was paired with a young tearaway Jeff Thomson on home territory against England with predictable results.

I remember anticipating the pair in the inaugural World Cup but neither really prospered in one-dayers where containment was just as important as taking wickets and scaring batsmen shitless. I never saw him in the flesh but he grew in my affections  during the ‘Botham’s Ashes’ summer of ’81. Notably slower and that hair somewhat thinner and controlled by coloured headbands, he was the epitome of control, seam and swing. With Terry Alderman at the other end, Lillee took 39 wickets yet still finished on the losing side. His total of 355 Test victims was a world record at the time, captured in only 70 matches. Yes, he could be a temperamental so-and-so but Dennis the menace was one of the most delightful bowlers to watch. 

3: Clive Lloyd

Watching him on the News in January 1984 sloping off the SCG pitch, bat raised in gratitude, having made 72 in his farewell Test innings I had tears in my eyes. The Windies lost that game but, as so often during his 12-year captaincy, they won the series. As with Dennis Lillee I had to enjoy Clivey’s performances on a 24-inch TV screen but he was often on show, not only during the West Indies’ four-year tour cycle but also in between batting for an excellent Lancashire side.

It’s hard to reconcile the big-shouldered brooding presence in the slips towards the end of his career with the slender panther-like covers fielder of the early-Seventies. His athletic pick-up and throw was a thing of beauty, just as his hooking and pulling of anything short was thrilling to witness. The 1975 World Cup Final was a defining moment in my cricket education, and  the indisputable Man of the Match was Windies captain Clive Lloyd. I was furious at having to attend Dad’s school fete that afternoon because it meant missing most of Lloyd’s outstanding 85-ball century. Then, with the Aussies needing to accelerate during their run chase his part-time bowling produced the most economical figures, 1-38, in the whole match. He was incredible. The twenty-first century era has given us some marvellous entertainers but, when on song, none could ever match Clive Lloyd. 

2: Marcus Trescothick

Back in the mid-Nineties, Dad and I began to notice a young Somerset batsman proving extremely good value in Fantasy Cricket. As the decade progressed so did his valuation. Prolific for England Unfer-19s he was 24 by the time the senior call came his way. From that moment on, Somerset didn’t get to see much of Tres as he scooped a central contract and made his mark as first-choice opener in both Tests and ODIs. Sadly, several years of intensive cricket a home and abroad were taking their toll.

I was unimpressed when Marcus suddenly pulled out of the 2006 India tour with no explanation. Back then, mental illness was simply swept under the carpet so it was only reading his heartfelt autobiography Coming Back to Me that I appreciated what he was really going through. International retirement wasn’t far away and he couldn’t even face flying overseas with Somerset. Fortunately, England's loss was Taunton's gain and he remained a stalwart batsman for the county for another ten years, breaking all sorts of records as run-maker and slip fielder, delaying retirement until we won that elusive first Championship crown. By 2019, aged 44, he finally gave up! He may have sported number 2 on his back but he will always be Somerset’s number one. 

1: Viv Richards

King Viv never matched Trescothick for longevity and consistency but for sheer excitement, panache and arrogance Somerset has never experienced anything like the Antiguan. He won the very first cricket match I ever attended with a six into the river at Chelmsford in May ’75 and I was at the same ground sixteen years later to witness his final day as West Indies county tourist. That month I watched him on TV walk out to a warm ovation in his farewell Test at The Oval, tears in my eyes and maybe a few in his, too, although he rarely showed any emotion on the pitch. 

In the 1975 World Cup Final it was his electric fielding which stood out but a year later he was astonishing for the West Indies with the bat. He was everything you’d want to see as a cricket fan: charismatic and a thrillingly inventive and brutal stroke maker. He won so many matches almost single-handed, including both domestic and World cup finals, I wonder what else he would have achieved in the T20 era. To be honest, he didn’t always appear to give 100% in run-of-the-mill county fixtures and I supported Somerset for dropping him in ’85.  Nevertheless Viv is not only my all-time favourite cricketer but also my personal icon of any sport.

World Cup Memory Lane

Domestic competition and bilateral series are all very well, but everyone loves a World Cup, don’t they? In the past six years I’ve become rather attached to the alternative Champions Trophy, if only because the use of Cardiff as a venue has enabled me to tag along several times in person. However, with only the top eight  ranked nations eligible to participate,  it lacks the cache of a genuine World Cup. 

The growth of Twenty 20 has inevitably led to the format’s own global tournament every two years. However, for me, the only cricket World Cup that matters is the one based on official one-day international rules. That now involves fifty overs a side but when the Prudential Cup launched in 1975 the poor things had to play sixty. Too long for twenty-first century viewers but great value for teenage fans like me.

The ODI as a concept was very much in its infancy; prior to this tournament the total number contested by the six Test-playing nations was fewer than twenty. With a straightforward format comprising two groups of four, semis and final, the World Cup was easily condensed into a fortnight in June. All the more reason to relish all fifteen matches. Given that all twelve group fixtures took place on just three days, the simultaneous scheduling and only two available BBC TV channels meant that few were televised live.

To be honest I have no recollection of watching England sail through Group A against India, East Africa and New Zealand. The other quartet was far more interesting and it was Pakistan who fell victim to the Group of Death, their fate determined by a thrilling finish at Edgbaston. Despite the efforts of Majid Khan, Sarfraz Nawaz et al, the West Indies scraped home by one wicket with just two balls to spare.

Infuriatingly, both semis were contested midweek, so pesky school commitments precluded a full day’s feast of TV cricket. I expected to get home to watch the England-Australia finale so was staggered to find it had already been wrapped up. Instead of Lillee and Thomson, it was the little-known left-arm swing bowler Gary Gilmour who dominated, taking a stunning 6-14.

And so it came to pass that the inaugural final involved the Aussies and Windies who were becoming bitter rivals. It turned out to be one of the most memorable matches I’ve ever watched. Annoyingly, we missed the middle section – including Clive Lloyd’s magnificent century – because Dad’s school fete took priority. However, from Roy Fredericks treading on his stumps in executing a hooked six of LIllee to some fabulous run-outs by Viv Richards and premature pitch invasions near the end, all the game lacked was a nail-biting last-ball climax. Just writing this 44 years later sets my skin all a-tingle.

The next two World Cups were also hosted by England who still couldn’t quite make home advantage count. In 1979, I glowed with pride and wonder as my idol Viv Richards flayed England’s finest to all corners of Lord’s. That audacious match-winning flicked six off Mike Hendrick will never leave me an image of an alien beamed down from a planet where cricket was played on an altogether higher plane.

Four years on and Viv was at it again, part of a Windies side that was if anything even firmer favourites. They cruised to the final where the fantasy fast bowling quartet of Roberts, Marshall, Garner and Holding dismissed India for under 200. And yet this time the script was ripped up. Once Kapil Dev had pulled off a terrific backpedalling over-the-shoulder catch to end Richards’ menacing innings, Amarnath and Madan Lal completed the job and we had new world champions.

England’s monopoly on hosting duty was over, and the Asian subcontinent assumed the role in the autumn of ’87 followed by Australia/New Zealand in ’92. The time difference and for us, out-of-season scheduling, meant I didn’t watch much of either tournament. The sport was becoming more open, with the Aussies and Pakistan respectively, holding the cup aloft. Imran Khan’s moment appeared destined, achieved at the age of 39 in his very last ODI. The crumbling of cricket’s barriers was further illustrated in 1996 when little Sri Lanka shocked the world by beating Australia with an innovative brand of limited-overs strategy, and the skill of Aravinda da Silva.

In the summer of ’99, cricket ‘came home’, sort of. In fact, England shared fixtures with Scotland, Wales and the Netherlands but at least the premier tournament was held in our summer and our time zone. That said, I don’t recall watching much of it on the box. One exception was the India v Sri Lanka group stage game at Taunton. I was working in London at the time but our office featured a little TV set high on the wall. Someone – not me - had the foresight to switch it on just as Sourav Ganguly and, more surprisingly, Rahul Dravid, piled on a terrific triple-century partnership. I doubt much work was done that afternoon. South Africa were looking likely winners only to lose their heads in a climactic semi-final scramble against eventual champs Australia. Thus the competition introduced not only the Super Six and the white ‘Duke’ ball but also the unwanted ‘chokers’ label around the Proteas’ necks. Twenty years later, rightly or wrongly, it’s still there.

Things took a political turn in 2003 and the combination of eye-catching results (e.g against Sri Lanka) and fortuitous boycotts in Africa propelled lowly Kenya and Bangladesh into the semi-final stratosphere. For all the giant-killings, Australia were unbeatable and duly thumped India in the final by 125 runs. I caught a few late-evening highlights on BBC2 of the 2007 event, which featured an early exit for India (which prompted a change of format to prevent any repeat of such a financially damaging scandal), Ireland’s defeat of Pakistan, the latter’s coach Bob Woolmer suffering a fatal heart attack and a farcical final completed in near-darkness.

By Spring 2011, I was seeing Angie, who had Sky Sports at home, so in between her precious football, I sneaked a few glimpses of cricket at weekends. England’s embarrassment at the hands of the green-haired Irish was joyous to behold but it was also a pleasure to witness the concluding hour or so of the final in Mumbai. The decision to stage the World Cup across the entire Asian subcontinent, with Dhaka hosting the opener, proved a resounding success. For all the caring and sharing, it has to be said that from Sehwag’s brilliant 175 in Match 1 to MS Dhoni’s characteristically piece of perfect pacing six weeks later, the trophy had India’s name on it throughout.

The most recent edition saw another Aussie triumph although co-hosts New Zealand pushed them hard with their aggressive play. Ireland won more games than England, whose chances of progression were ended by Bangladesh, but I was disappointed that for 2019 the ICC decided to raise the drawbridge to stop the Associate nations getting ideas above their station. 

On the plus side, the tournament is returning to these shores. Consequently, subject to politics, personal health and that perennial enemy of cricket, inclement weather, the coming weeks will allow me to watch my first ever World Cup matches live in Cardiff. This time, top-ranked hosts England will start hot favourites but above all I look forward to enjoying the multinational atmosphere and exciting performances. It may not match up to the nostalgic aura of 1975 – Viv, Clive, Lillee and all that – but here’s hoping for a summer to remember.

Foreign Inspirations: Overseas County Cricketers

At the start of each year, county websites are full of excited reports raving about their new overseas signing for the forthcoming T20 Blast or maybe three Championship games in May. Rolling my eyes at such promotional puff I recall the days when many of the world's biggest stars would appear for the same county, year after year, April to September, first-class fixtures and one-dayers.

Long before I was born, overseas players would extend their earning period by signing as a professional in the Yorkshire or Lancashire leagues. This continued well into the Eighties – imagine taking guard at say, Haslingden, watching Rishton’s Michael Holding steaming in towards you! – but I feel fortunate that my initiation into the joys of cricket coincided with a golden era of international cricketers on the county circuit.

It was probably no coincidence at all. In the early Seventies, watching live coverage of one-dayers, especially the Sunday League, I was thrilled by the performances of the overseas recruits. Most of them were West Indians or Pakistanis, who seemed to play a different way from the home-grown contingent. It’s cricket, Jim, but not as we know it. The Caribbean crew in particular seemed to boast the fastest bowlers, most athletic fielders and finest strokemakers. Watching the likes of Clive Lloyd (Lancashire), Roy Fredericks (Glamorgan), Alvin Kallicharran (Warwickshire) and Vanburn Holder (Worcestershire) also meant I didn’t have to wait four years for the next West Indies tour to enjoy their unique approach to the sport. I vividly recall the black and white images of Nottinghamshire’s Garfield Sobers heaving poor Malcolm Nash for six sixes in an over in 1968.

It wasn’t just about telly. At my first taste of live cricket in May 1975, it was the batting of Somerset’s Viv Richards and fielding of Essex’s Keith Boyce which made the greatest impression on me. Later that summer, I became engrossed in the inaugural Prudential World Cup, noting that many of the biggest names were already on the county scene. If they weren’t at that stage, I wouldn’t have long to wait.

They weren’t the modern day ‘blink-and-you-miss-it’ contracts either. Lloyd, Richards, Kalli, Greenidge, Walsh, Marshall and Zaheer Abbas each represented their respective counties for a decade or more. With none of today’s distractions of year-round T20 tourneys and short ODI series, they racked up career tallies of first-class runs and wickets which dwarf those of current Test superstars. Boosted by their prolific seasons at Gloucestershire, Hampshire and Northants, Courtney Walsh, Malcolm Marshall and Bishan Bedi each retired with well over 1,500 first-class scalps to their names. At the time of writing, Dale Steyn has a mere 612, and even the perennially fit Jimmy Anderson remains ninety short of the thousand landmark.

Throughout my life I haven’t attended a huge volume of county matches but I’ve been lucky to have witnessed some superb international players in action, even if they weren’t necessarily at their best. In addition to the incomparable Viv and Joel Garner for Somerset, Essex used to feature batsmen of the quality of Andy Flower, South African Ken McEwan and Aussies Allan Border, Mark Waugh and Stuart Law.

Other personal highlights have been the giant Sarfraz Nawaz bowling for Northants and Younis Ahmed’s resounding crack of an off drive for Surrey in ’76  (it resonates in my mind still), the jaw-dropping pace of Warwickshire’s Allan Donald (bowling second change) at Ilford in ’95 and Mike Procter almost singlehandedly saving Gloucestershire against Somerset at Bath in ’81. I’m glad he failed in the end!

My favourite Procter (pictured below) moment, however, was when he destroyed Dad’s beloved Hampshire in a 1977 B&H Cup semi-final, this time with his pace bowling. It must have been the first time I’d seen a hat-trick. Had South Africa not been isolated by their country’s political apartheid abomination, Procter would surely have gone down as one of the greatest ever all-rounders. His compatriot Barry Richards was similarly disadvantaged but he and Gordon Greenidge formed for several years the county game’s most formidable opening partnership.

In subsequent decades, other Southern Africans opted to seek international cricket with England by serving their seven-year county apprenticeship to achieve residential status. Allan Lamb, Graeme Hick and Kevin Pietersen spring to mind. It’s not all about traditional Test playing nations, either. I recall in the ‘80s/’90s the extremely economical Danish seamer Ole Mortensen for Derbyshire and Somerset’s profligate Dutchman, Adrian van Troost promoting the European Union.

Imran Khan graced the county circuit for many years, too, first with Sussex then Worcestershire, by which time Pakistan’s Wasim Akram (Lancs) and Waqar Younis (Surrey and Glamorgan) were also on these shores. Banned rebel West Indian Frankly Stephenson twice achieved the 1000 runs/100 wickets double for Notts in 1988 and 1989. In the Nineties, it was against Durham at Edgbaston that Brian Lara stunned the world with his record-breaking 501 not out, and two decades later with Surrey that both Ricky Ponting and Kumar Sangakkara opted to end their first-class careers, the latter in stunning style in 2017.

In more recent times, county fortunes have often been galvanised by the arrival of foreign internationals. Mushtaq Ahmed’s leg-spin transformed Somerset and especially Sussex for whom he helped win two Championship titles. Shane Warne’s overall aura and astute captaincy gave Hampshire impetus in the Noughties, and the veteran Ottis Gibson bowled Durham to success. Several Aussies, unable to break into a formidable Baggy Green batting line-up, also proved influential over here, notably Stuart Law, Michael di Venuto and Chris Rogers, while Michael Klinger’s batting and leadership took Gloucestershire to T20 glory.  

All this brings me back to the current fetish for ultra-brief stints by the likes of Muralitharan, McCullum and Gilchrist, plus jobbing Twenty20 specialists such as Dirk Nannes, Aaron Finch, Colin Munro and the Sultan of Sixes himself, Chris Gayle. These stars undoubtedly help shift season tickets and advance Blast sales. Unfortunately, when in 2015 Somerset snapped up Gayle, the biggest star of them all, it proved to be a bittersweet experience. In the January, it was revealed he’d made good on a three-year promise to join the county for a maximum of six T20 fixtures. Six games! Yippee! He was certainly a huge draw and demonstrated the right attitude towards promotional appearances in schools, etc.

On the pitch, too, the Jamaican fulfilled the hype with devastating innings at Taunton, even if his 151 not out against Kent wasn’t enough to win the match. If only I’d crippled the visitors’ team bus the day before when our paths crossed at Membury Services maybe the result would have been different! Sadly Gayle decided that three matches were enough and duly buggered off. Remember that “maximum of” prefix to the six? He did return to play what must have been an exhausting five matches the following June but with considerably less impact.

All a far cry from those dizzying days of Asif Iqbal, Farokh Engineer, Wayne Daniel and Sylvester Clarke, who’d delight county crowds week in week out. And when they weren’t representing a county, such cricketing celebs would also grace our grounds as part of the country’s tour schedules, which deserves a chapter of its own.....

Blog 500 - Cricket and Me

When people reach some kind of landmark or anniversary, it's usually the signal for a review of the relevant period. Well, since my blog has been going for less than four years, that doesn't leave me with much to review. OK, so things can change a lot in such a short time. England have gone from heroes to zero, Tendulkar, Dravid, Kallis and Ponting have all retired from proper cricket and, while my hair has turned greyer, Shane Warne's teeth have become even whiter. However, instead I'm going on a cut-down nostalgia trip, so please indulge me....

I'm not sure when I first became interested in cricket. I certainly have photos of me with a little, hand-carved bat in various family gardens aged six or seven. Similarly I don't recall exactly when I started watching on television. I do remember seeing news snippets of England's Ashes tour in the winter of 1971/72, and my support of Somerset began after returning from a fortnight in Minehead. In those days, Somerset were invariably at or close to the bottom of the County Championship - a single-division format in those days.

The West Indies tour of these shores in 1973 made an impression on me. Clive Lloyd's athleticism, Gary Sobers' languid style and exotic fast bowlers began a long-lasting relationship with Caribbean cricket. My first trip to an actual cricket ground came on 4th May 1975, when Dad took me to see Brian Close's Somerset at Chelmsford, several miles from my home in Billericay, for a Sunday league 40-over match against Keith Fletcher's Essex. Graham Gooch was a green batsman at number four (he scored eight) and Ian Botham was an even less experienced bowler (2-32) who batted at eight (bowled Edmeades 3). The over-riding memory, apart from the wooden planks for seats, was the 46 not out by a certain Viv Richards, who clumped a Ray East delivery into the Chelmer to win the match for my team and become my sporting hero. 39 years later, he still is.

I've never been patriotic when it comes to sport, and cricket is no exception. I supported the West Indies against England in 1976 and had more respect for Lillee, Alderman and Border than Botham, Brearley and Willis in the famous 1981 Ashes. My love of Caribbean cricket took a wobble when their over rates slumped to twelve an hour, which caused uproar in England in the late '70s. With the dreary commercialism of the IPL and Anderson and Broad forever inspecting their footwear these days, twelve an hour looks positively rapid.

The first time I went to a Test match was for England v Sri Lanka at Lord's in 1990. Not because of the quality of the opposition (SL were cannon fodder at the time) but because I judged correctly that I'd be able to queue for tickets with no problem. I had a great view from the Nursery End on a hot August Bank Holiday weekend and enjoyed it immensely. I saw a few Twenty 20s in the 'noughties', beginning with, I think, Middlesex v Surrey on another baking London evening. It was a post-work treat after details of the redundancies and restructure were announced at the BBC where I worked at the time. I can't even remember who won, but Tim Murtagh took several wickets so it was probably the home side.

My first ODI took more another 21 years, and those amazing Indian supporters at Cardiff were even more entertaining than Dhawan, De Villiers et al in that Champions Trophy opener against South Africa. It was even better to watch as an official neutral although I was an India convert long before the end. My neighbours in the stands saw to that!

The West Indies are much harder to love these days and it's hardly surprising that the routine sledging has progressed to the handbags between Anderson and Jadeja, to name just two. T20 franchise competitions and the BCCI are rapidly taking over, and the game is clogging up with sportsmen who are happier to travel the world for a few swings of the bat or four-over bowling practice in return for millions of dollars. Good luck to them, but don't seek my sympathy when you're accused of not being a team player. Take note, Mr Pietersen!

TV stations have desperately tried to invent new statistics to match the improved technology at their fingertips. 'Manhattan'? 'WASP'? Strike and economy rates are welcome additions to the minimalistic slavery to aggregates and averages of a few decades ago.

At least there will always be exciting players to watch and I'm not going to rant on about it all being so much better 'in my day'. For every Marshall, Imran, Kapil Dev and Gower, there's a Steyn, Jayawardene, Johnson and Kohli to keep my relationship with cricket alive as ever. I haven't given up the blog so I'll continue to monitor the game, especially the county game as this is being increasingly marginalised. The more commentators knock it, the more I'll stand up for it. When it's gone, it's gone, and it doesn't deserve to become extinct. It's too important than that. So, too, is sportsmanship and we don't need pushing, shoving and silly disputes as witnessed by Jimmy v Ravi. Whether I last another 500, I can't say, but I hope there's enough in cricket to maintain my love of the game.

The First World Cup Final

As you may have read earlier, the 1975 Prudential World Cup Final made a real impression on me as a 13 year-old cricket fan. It was the climax to a tournament short and sweet by today's standards but it was the first time that the world's top cricketing nations got together to compete for a trophy.

Back then, the sport was essentially run from Lord's and so that was the fitting venue for the Final. After two one-sided semis, the top teams around in the mid-70s, Australia and the West Indies, were to slug it out for the title of world champions on 21st June, the Summer Solstice and 'longest day'. Good job there was so much daylight because the match started at 11am and didn't finish until 8.42pm, and there were no floodlights in those days!

It was a hot sunny day, which was to be typical of that English summer. Half the crowd seemed to have the Caribbean spirit with them, and I don't just mean rum! They introduced the sound of beer cans being clanked together to make a sound simultaneously irritating yet thrillingly atmospheric, and Clive Lloyd's side must have felt a real buzz to step out at the home of cricket to hear so many supporters in the stands. The Windies had already beaten Australia once in the group stage and so they already had the upper hand. Nevertheless, Aussie never give up easily and fight to the end. This trait came to the fore in this match, too.

The West Indies batted first, but the Aussies were soon on top. After some early patience, a Lillee bouncer was met by an extravagant hook from Roy Fredericks which sailed into the stands. The crowd's delirious cheers were silenced by the realisation that in the process of swivelling to make the shot, the batsman had trodden on his stumps: 12-1. Lillee, Gilmour and, perhaps surprisingly, Thomson continued to tighten the screw. Not even Kallicharran or Greenidge could play their shots, and after 18 overs, the score was only 50-3.

Enter the captain, Clive Lloyd. In 1975, he was probably the most exciting player on the planet, for whom one-day cricket was made: a powerful strokemaker and brilliant fielder in the covers. I'd seen him produce amazing innings for Lancashire so what came next was no real surprise. Supported by the veteran Rohan Kanhai, the tall bespectacled figure got into his stride, making good bowlers like Lillee and Max Walker look very ordinary indeed. His second fifty came in ten overs and was adjudged caught behind for 102 having dominated the 4th wicket partnership of 149. Wickets continued to fall, five for Gilmour, but some late-order hitting, notably by Keith Boyce, took the Windies to 291-8 after the allotted sixty overs.

I had been a bit miffed to have missed most of Lloyd's innings, having to attend a school fete that afternoon (!) but I was relieved to get home to witness the match's memorable climax. At the start of the Australian innings, Rick McCosker didn't last long, but Turner and skipper Ian Chappell kept the scoreboard ticking over at the expense of Roberts, Julien, Holder and Boyce. However, I was surprised to see Clive put himself on to bowl at third change. As he had done with the bat, he changed the complexion of the innings with his loping medium-pace dobbers. He kept an exquisite length, frustrating the batsmen. He went on to take 1-38 in his 12 overs but more valuable than that was pressure he exerted forcing the batsmen to take risks running singles, especially to 23 year-old Viv Richards. Three times he swooped in the covers and either whipped a throw to the 'keeper or hurled down the stumps in the blink of an eye. Turner and both Chappell brothers met this fate. Walters swished and missed at Lloyd and Boyce bowled the dangerous Rod Marsh, leaving the Aussies on 195-6 and behind the required run rate. Yet the drama continued.

The West Indies supporters were by now scenting victory and were amassing on the boundary rope. When Kanhai clasped a skier from Gilmour, hundreds invaded the pitch to mob him. Ross Edwards, the last recognised batsman, did not last much longer, then Vanburn Holder ran out Walker who'd gone for a suicidal run and was wisely sent back by Jeff Thomson. At 233-9, Australia still needed 59 runs with just 37 balls and one wicket remaining. Lillee and Thomson may have been famous for their bowling partnership but now Aussie hopes rested on their batting together.

Twenty runs were scavenged from the next three overs before a premature pitch invasion was ended when Thomson made his ground to avert a fifth run-out. The next ball created a farcical situation. Thomson heaved at a ball from Holder, managing only to sky the ball to the awaiting Fredericks. The stands emptied, not really noticing that the fielder had hurled the ball at the stumps and missed. Umpire Tom Spencer had signalled a no-ball but the ball was lost in the melee! Thomson and Lillee decided to keep on running. After all, if the ball never reappeared could they get the last 30-odd runs from this one delivery?! Perhaps sensibly, Spencer called a halt and signalled three - or was it two? - to the scorers, and play stopped until the outfield was cleared of spectators.

Andy Roberts restricted the Aussies to three off the next over , so it was 21 needed from the last two. By now, it was gone 8.30pm. No idea if I'd had my tea by then but I certainly couldn't tear myself from the telly! Two singles and a leg-bye followed then, having heaved and missed Holder's fourth delivery, Thomson set off for a ludicrous bye to Deryck Murray behind the stumps. He failed to beat the underarm throw and this time the players sprinted like fury to the pavilion to avoid the onrushing fans. What an amazing match! If we get anything like that in 2011 I don't think my heart could take it!