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.

Tourist TIme

I’m not sure why my flirtation with live Sunday League matches fizzled out. Perhaps it was A-Level pressure, ill-health or the growing problem of finding a parking space close to the County Ground. Yes, it’s not a twenty-first century phenomenon! Once my university years had passed and I plunged into the world of work in the early Eighties, priorities changed. Nor do I recall Dad ever badgering me to accompany him to Chelmsford, not even if Hampshire were the visitors.

Instead, thoughts turned to satisfying my cricket craving by means of the touring side’s annual fixture with Essex. Even in the Eighties, a tour lasted most of the summer incorporating three-dayers against the majority of counties, and Essex always seemed to be on the itinerary. A decade earlier, in 1976, the West Indies played all seventeen counties, the MCC, Minor Counties and Combined Universities, interweaved with five Tests and three ODIs. And current national management teams have the temerity to whine about their arduous schedules, poor dears. 

My first experience of a tour match occurred in 1984 when my favourites, the Windies, were over here. It was deep into June when I took annual leave to watch the final day’s play at Chelmsford, taking the train from Billericay and carrying my sandwiches, camera and diluted squash over the river, before shelling out £2.50 for my ticket (left). Well, I was earning £6K a year, so why not splash out?!

Essex’s successful period had generated enough income to fund ground improvements. Small sections of plastic seating had thankfully replaced the old planks, and I took my place in the non-members’ section at the River End. I was disappointed at the absence of the all-conquering Windies pace attack, with the exception of Joel Garner who, my diary records, bowled a three-over ‘”fiery spell” which did for Gooch and Hardie. Two unfamiliar fast bowlers were in action: Milton Small and a raw, gangly 21 year-old Courtney Walsh. Viv Richards had contributed a pleasing 60 but Fletcher and Pringle batted out for a draw.

In the ensuing seasons I beat the same path to see Australia (twice), New Zealand (twice), West Indies (twice more) and Pakistan. While inevitably many leading tourists were rested in between Test duties, I consider myself privileged to observe some of the world’s greatest cricketers just up the road in Chelmsford. There was an out-of-sorts Jeff Thomson struggling with no-balls, Imran Khan bowling Gooch for a duck, Wasim Akram in awesome all-rounder mode, Ian Bishop taking 5-49, Curtly Ambrose delivering a succession of wince-inducing rib-ticklers at Nasser Hussain, Matthew Hayden making a superb diving catch in front of me and Sir Richard Hadlee making a brief substitute appearance on the outfield the day after his knighthood was announced. He didn’t bowl but in other years I did observe side-on the legendary Malcolm Marshall and Waqar Younis (below). 

In August 1991 Dad was with me when, at the end of a predictable draw, I joined others on the pitch to look up to the players’ balcony where, after bowling regulation, time-filling off-breaks, stood King Viv leaning on the railings, full spirit glass in one hand, surveying his realm. It was the last time he played in a West Indian tour match against a county and a matter of days before his emotional farewell to Test cricket.

Despite my policy of aiming to attend, weather permitting, the middle day, I usually seemed to be denied the best of the visiting batsmen. Twice Gordon Greenidge chose to flay the Essex bowlers on the days I missed, and I didn’t see a lot of Martin Crowe, David Boon or Desmond Haynes other than in a slip cordon. Funnily enough, the only centuries I witnessed were by home players like Brian Hardie, Graham Gooch and John Stephenson before, one warm sunny afternoon in 1996, Pakistani opener Saeed Anwar broke the duck with an exhilarating 102, full of crisp boundaries. My final trip to Chelmsford came two years later but I very nearly saw no cricket at all. The fire brigade was needed to help drain the flooded outfield before play was declared possible and I could see South Africa’s Shaun Pollock take three wickets and Jonty Rhodes demonstrate his fielding prowess in the covers.

The only leading nation missing from my list was India. Fortunately I was able to rectify this omission many years later in 2011. By now a resident of Bridgwater, I nipped down to Taunton to watch a full-strength Indian side, weary from the IPL, desperately seeking first-class match practice. The England skipper Andrew Strauss was similarly out of touch and, in extraordinary circumstances, given special dispensation by the ECB, his Middlesex club and Somerset to bat in this game. He actually went on to score a century but, like most of those in the County Ground, I was more interested in seeing the likes of Gambhir, MS Dhoni and Yuvraj Singh in the flesh. Above all, I grasped the opportunity of seeing Sachin Tendulkar and Rahul Dravid in partnership, albeit not for very long. An ambition realised (left).

                            

But what about joining a touring party myself? I’ve certainly never craved being a member of the Barmy Army. I couldn’t imagine anything worse! However, my bucket list dream of watching the West Indies play – against anybody, I’m not fussy – at the Sir Vivian Richards stadium on Antigua will almost certainly remain unfulfilled. Instead I retain my fond memories of hours spent under Essex skies watching the best in the world just eight miles from home, a privilege now rarely permitted in this age of concertina-ed schedules where money-spinning internationals inevitably take precedence.  Kids today don’t know what they’re missing…

Soul Limbo to Dancing Girls: How the game has changed

Growing up in the 1970s, the cricket season was pretty full-on. With very little international cricket taking place in the winter months, and usually none of it shown live on TV, apart from the occasional tuning into BBC Radio’s Test Match Special, my cricket exposure was concertina-ed into just over four months. As a result, I had to make the most of my short English sporting summer.

The same was true of the world’s professional players. With very little first-class cricket on offer in the English off-season, overseas stars flocked to these shores either to represent counties or play as a visiting pro in the club leagues in Lancashire and Yorkshire. I remember the County Championship comprising no fewer than 24 three-day matches interspersed with 40-over games every Sunday afternoon and the 60-over knockout Gillette Cup, which also allowed minor counties the opportunity to claim a major scalp. From 1972, the Championship was reduced to twenty fixtures apiece to make space for the new 55-over Benson and Hedges Cup. Either way, it was pretty congested stuff, especially when you included five or six Test matches and a series of county games against that summer’s international tourists. In peak periods, the calendar squeezed in games seven days a week.

The Championship was never to my knowledge broadcast on the Beeb, but the one-dayers were a staple of my summer viewing. The Wednesday B&H games were out of reach because of those pesky school commitments. However, at the weekends Dad and I were usually to be found ensconced in the living room in thrall to whatever cricket the BBC could shoehorn into its busy schedule of tennis, golf and – my major bugbear - horse racing.

If given its own slot, rather than being a mere patch in the quilt of Grandstand, the jaunty rhythms of Booker T’s ‘Soul Limbo’ provided the clarion call to cricket fans. The ruddy-faced blazered Peter West or Tony Lewis would introduce proceedings from a balcony somewhere on the circuit and off we’d go. There’d be none of the endless padding of short, sharp interviews and rapid-fire VT highlights of previous games. The teams were still sporting crisp ‘whites’, the now-ubiquitous colourful ‘pyjama’ kits still many years away.

It wasn’t until the late ‘70s that Kerry Packer and World Series Cricket dragged cricket kicking and screaming into the twentieth century. Top players could finally earn a living wage which obviated the need to roam the globe all year round to supplement incomes. This was obviously fantastic news for the Chappells, Underwoods and Lloyds of this world, but it all had to be paid for. Inevitably, cricket sold its soul to commercial interests of TV and major sponsors, and the strains of Soul Limbo became gradually more infrequent.

As in any modern sport, the free market led to cricket’s most bankable stars getting richer and the less talented county pro becoming left behind. The pathway was established for the growth of international schedules (surely a good thing), the development of ever-shorter formats (less so) and the marginalisation of anything seen as non-standard, including the English County Championship.

The increasing focus on fast scoring has undoubtedly led to more entertainment, especially in the more traditional first-class game. With fewer deliveries faced, batsmen have to be more creative and innovative when it comes to finding the boundary. These days, any humdrum tailender has to fashion strokes that only Viv Richards would dare attempt forty years ago.

Individual and team totals are expanding constantly, rendering the records books of my youth as outdated as the Famous Five or wooden tennis rackets. It’s not all the result of superior batting. Where once the boundary fence was exactly that - a wooden fence - the outfield perimeter has encroached more and more onto the pitch. The resulting land has been grabbed by digital advertising boards, cables and cameramen.

With shorter boundaries, improved bat technology and rules on fielding restrictions, everything is geared to simplifying the task of batsmen hitting sixes. The IPL, that odious moneyfest of dollars and dancing dolly birds, keeps a rolling counter of ‘maximums’ which seems to be of greater importance than which franchise actually wins the tournament itself. I feel sorry for the bowlers. The rise in Twenty20 cricket has also forced them to innovate: varying pace, disguising slow bouncers, the doosra, even reinventing the lost art of leg-spin, a phoenix from the flames of cricket as played in the twentieth century.

But where does all this breathless evolution leave an old-fashioned fan like me? When in the Nineties Rupert Murdoch’s Sky started hoovering up all the sport’s broadcasting contracts, its endless reserves of cash far outstripping those of the BBC, I found myself becoming increasingly isolated from the sport I loved. I had no desire to splash out on a satellite dish; that would have legitimised the destruction of cricket broadcasting as I knew it. The sport was awash with money, and yet it set out deliberately to reduce the number of people able to watch it. Twenty years later, cricket is no longer a national sport. Only an England Test victory is big enough news to make a national bulletin.

Are there any positives?  Well, now I’m in a digital household. there is obviously a lot more cricket around to follow That is, if I can be arsed to scroll down to find what turn out to be  a ‘vital’ Bangladesh v Pakistan One-Day International, the Cobras playing Scorpions or Royals versus the Super Kings. I seem to have lost the ability to concentrate on TV cricket but, on the fiip side, I am more motivated to get off my backside and see matches in the flesh, as it were.

The ‘live’ experience is so much better than it used to be. My first ever visit to a match with Dad, on a cold May Sunday afternoon in 1975, was to a Chelmsford County Ground boasting just one permanent building (the clubhouse) and seating comprising, with no exaggeration, planks of wood! Tournament success for Essex financed proper plastic seats and actual stands, and more generous funding from the ECB has paid for similar spectator comforts across the county circuit. Cardiff’s Test-quality Sophia Gardens even has decent toilets!

Of course I occasionally come over all nostalgic for Jim Laker and Tom Graveney discussing a Geoff Boycott on-drive, tree-fringed boundaries or a post-match pitch invasion by delirious autograph book-wielding teenagers at Hove. Such paltry pleasures were part of my childhood. However, as long as the game splutters on, I shall support the enduring benefits of first-class cricket and the county system. I’m not totally antipathetic to Twenty20 but shall fervently man the barricades (online at least) to keep the massing forces of T20 and – heaven forbid! – ‘the 100’ and the dreaded T10 at bay, and keep the fires of my cricket enthusiasm burning for the rest of my life. It’s survived the introduction to the vocabulary of Duckworth-Lewis, the ‘Manhattan’, economy rates, Power Plays, DRS and ‘Snicko’, so not all is lost. Cue Booker T….

Life as a Somerset supporter

Life as a fan of any club, in any sport, is inevitably a rollercoaster ride. Winning matches is great, and doing so in entertaining fashion is a bonus, but the old cliché of ‘It’s all about winning trophies’ is hard to avoid. And that’s where supporting Somerset has been a particularly tough test. So why couldn’t I have simply plumped for a proven champion county like Surrey, Middlesex, Lancashire or Yorkshire? The answer is, of course, because Somerset picked me.

I can’t recall exactly when and where it happened but it must have been inspired by my delightful family holiday spent in and around Minehead in the summer of 1971. As it happened, that was one of Somerset’s best cricket seasons for a while but it had long been considered one of the sport’s sleepy backwaters. There were no international stars, just a few ageing ex-England players in Brian Close and Tom Cartwright plus a motley collection of journeymen and young recruits from that longstanding cricket academy in Millfield School. It was probably the random combo of attractive scenery and sympathy that brought me and SCCC together.

Somerset’s Taunton HQ must be one of the county circuit’s most recognisable grounds. Like The Oval’s gasholders, the trio of sandstone church towers provided a familiar backdrop to the arena for TV cameras set high on the River End pavilion. From the opposite side, the Quantock Hills fill the space between what is now the Sir Ian Botham Stand and the sky. Whilst living and working nearby, I attended several matches there, in addition to a few sneaky peaks through the Garner Gates in lunch breaks, but my introduction to live cricket was Somerset’s trip to Essex at Chelmsford on a cool May afternoon in 1975. It was to be a winning start thanks largely to a then little-known West Indian called IVA Richards. More of him later…..

The following season we came agonisingly close to clinching a first ever trophy. While it wasn’t the featured live game, Dad and I were following the fortunes of Somerset at Glamorgan, watching BBC2’s cricket coverage of the final round of Sunday League fixtures. We lost a thrilling encounter by just one run and the title on away games won, and this teenager was in despair. In ’78 we were again runners-up, not only in the Sunday League but also the premier knockout competition, the Gillette Cup. This has been a recurring theme for the past four decades.

Luckily, the lengthy search for silverware ended the following year. Neither Essex nor Somerset had ever won anything. Then, in one glorious season, the two clubs shared all four titles on offer. For us it was the John Player (Sunday) and Gillette Cup. Under Brian Rose’s captaincy, with Ian Botham an established international all-rounder Viv Richards’ extraordinary batting and Joel ‘Big Bird’ Garner leading the attack, Somerset’s golden era had begun.

The forty-over league proved to be our speciality and yet we could finish only second in three of the subsequent four years. It was in June 1981, following my end-of year exams at Exeter University, that I enjoyed my only live experience of watching our three legends playing together.

It was at the Bath Festival clash with neighbours Gloucestershire but, instead of the current bristling rivalry, the atmosphere was light and friendly and before the game we could stand on the outfield while the players warmed up amongst us. Standing alongside Joel Garner (below) I could appreciate just how tall he was (barely fitting into my lens, below), and he played his part in our 20-run triumph, taking 4-21 as Gloucestershire suffered a catastrophic collapse.  

That memorable summer we clinched the Benson & Hedges Cup (55 overs a side), repeated the feat in ’82 and took Kent apart in the Nat West Trophy final (successor to the Gillette Cup) in ’83. After that, it all went horribly quiet. In 1985 the county tore itself in two, not over Brexit but on the thornier issue of whether to replace Richards with the younger and frankly more conscientious Kiwi, Martyn Crowe. Somerset hadn’t experienced such division since the Monmouth Rebellion three centuries earlier, and that hadn’t ended well! Despite my hero-worship of King Viv, I actually sided with the more forward-thinking members at SCCC. Richards departed, followed by his friends Garner and Botham and suddenly captain Peter Roebuck and Vic Marks were left with some mighty boots to fill.

The victory champagne dried up. For years, we couldn’t even finish second. It wasn’t until 2001 when Jamie Cox’s side ended the barren run with success over Leicestershire in the new 50-over C&G Trophy. It has since gone down in folklore because of Leicester seamer Scott Boswell’s nightmare second over, in which he bowled eight wides. Eight!

It wasn't as if we had no decent players. Quite the reverse. Talented locals like Vic Marks, Colin Dredge, Richard Harden and Marcus Trescothick were supplemented by imports such as Andy Caddick, Mushtaq Ahmed, Steve Waugh, Graeme Smith and Jimmy Cook. The latter spent only three years at Somerset, yet racked up 28 centuries and almost 7,000 first-class runs. And still we struggled.

Then in 2007, following the arrival of Justin Langer, a new golden age beckoned. We returned to Division One, tightened up on discipline and discovered that the exciting new Twenty20 format played towards our strengths. Somerset were great to watch, competing in every competition. And yet, for some reason, the fates conspired against us. Apart from the solitary T20 success in 2005, we crumbled under the weight of destiny and expectation. Between 2009 and 2012, we were beaten finalists five times in the Blast and 40-over CB40 trophy, and runners-up twice in the Championship. Surely we would win something? No.

For years, the Taunton pitch was notoriously batting-friendly, ideal for high scores but useless for taking the twenty wickets needed to win matches. It made for some incredible run chases though. In 2009, I was invited to join some old BBC friends to watch day one of Somerset’s home fixture against Yorkshire. Jacques Rudolph piled on the runs and the draw seemed inevitable right until the final day. As I followed proceedings online, Arul Suppiah and Peter Trego crashed centuries in the last two sessions to pull off a remarkable victory. Heartwarming stuff.

Marcus Trescothick’s age and fitness have restricted his appearances but he resolutely refuses to retire until the elusive Championship pennant flutters proudly above Taunton. I fear he’ll have to be batting in a wheelchair. For all the talents of the much-loved Trego, James Hildreth, Lewis Gregory, Tom Abell, Dom  Bess, Jack Leach and the Overton twins, another county always seems to do just that little bit better. In 2018 it was Surrey, while an excellent T20 season ended in the semis. 

                                

Could 2019 see us get over the line at last? Old hands like me fear the worst but if the planets of batting and bowling align, anything’s possible. Please let it happen, even if it’s just to see the smile on Marcus Trescothick’s face.

Virat Kohli – The Best ever?

This week, Virat Kohli reached the landmark of 10,000 runs in ODIs. In fact, he didn’t reach the barrier so much as smash through it. The achievement came with a century against the West Indies, which was duly followed by another, his third in succession.

Much has been made of his joining the five-figure club in only 205 innings, by far the quickest to do so. In particular, he needed 54 fewer innings than his illustrious former India team-mate Sachin Tendulkar. As EspnCricinfo’s analysis illustrates, a straightforward comparison of statistics is meaningless; you need to factor in the evolution in one-day batting during the past twenty years.

Without get bogged down in numbers, suffice it to say that, when comparing each player’s scoring records with their contemporaries, there isn’t a lot to separate Tendulkar and Kohli. Both are legends of their respective generations and those of us who have seen them both play should savour the experience. Of course, Kohli should have many more years ahead of him. His 30^th birthday may be looming but if he maintains the fitness, appetite and skill for another decade, he could yet surpass SRT’s formidable world record of 18,426 runs.

Both had their fallow periods but Kohli’s purple patches seem to stretch on and on. In the past three years, he has accumulated well over 3,000 runs at more than one a ball. In 2018 his average is an astonishing 144 and, unlike various other pretenders to his throne, has the great ability to convert 50s into centuries. He rarely throws his wicket away, knows how to judge a chase and all this while bearing the weight of his nation’s captaincy.

Only twelve others have passed 10,000 ODI runs, and already Kohli has eclipsed his long-time colleague and captain MS Dhoni. Dilshan, Lara and Dravid may well be overtaken during the winter, then Ganguly, Inzamam and Kallis are in his sights by the end of 2019. The big five are further ahead but, unless something unexpected happens, all bar Tendulkar will surely be hunted down by the time Kohli is 35.

Virat’s average, not necessarily as significant a stat as in Tests, is an astonishing 59.90. Nobody else, past and present, has come close. The likes of Sehwag, Shahid Afridi, Brendon McCullum and AB De Villiers boast superior strike rates but Kohli looks the complete one-day batsman without the need for wild slogging.

I remember when he made his debut in 2008, he was seen as a one-day specialist and it was another three years before breaking through into the Test team. Questions were asked, and it took him a while before establishing himself. Could he succeed in the five-day format?

Could he hell?! I’m not sure what switch was tripped in 2016 but, alongside his ODI career, his Test figures went stratospheric. He currently tops the rankings in both formats and also  at 12 in the highly specialist T20 field. The man can do no wrong. Get him in the Brexit negotiating team immediately! Put him in charge of eliminating global plastic use right now!

Joe Root, Kane Williamson, Steve Smith and Hashim Amla are all magnificent all-round batsmen but at the moment Kohli is untouchable. Where he sits in the all-time pantheon of limited-overs strokeplayers is a different matter. I wonder how incredible blazing bladesmiths like Viv Richards, Everton Weekes, Gary Sobers, Zaheer Abbas or even the more recent Javed Miandad, Brian Lara or Adam Gilchrist would have fared in this era of short boundaries, helpful fielding restrictions and a T20-led mindset. Pretty well, I fancy. I may be biased but reckon my idol Sir Viv would have eaten Kohli for breakfast.

I have read comments about is character and personality which express contrasting opinions. I don’t really know whether he is a lazy egotistical tyrant or a well-meaning team player. He can’t be both! All I can say is that a haughty remote cricketer wouldn’t be so ready to acknowledge the “Kohli, Kohli, give us a wave!” brigade as I have seen him do in Cardiff. As for his position amongst the all-time greats, I think it best to wait for his retirement before passing judgment. In the meantime, I rate him above everybody other batsman playing at the moment so let’s just enjoy watching a superb player in his absolute pomp.

Roebuck v Richards: The 1986 Somerset Spat revisited

I was reading David Hopps’ article on ESPN Cricinfo yesterday, dredging up my own memories of that awful period thirty years ago when Somerset CCC was racked by an internal civil war.

The late Seventies and early Eighties were great periods to be a Somerset supporter. After years in the wilderness, the county were propelled to the forefront of county cricket, alongside Essex where I actually lived. Much of our success was down to the triumvirate of Ian Botham, Viv Richards and Joel Garner, all brought into the side as promising youngsters rather than established international stars. One-day trophies were won although the County Championship remained infertile ground.

In 1985, we actually finished bottom of the league, then a single-division format, won by Middlesex. We won just one of our 24 three-day fixtures although, to be fair, most games were drawn in those days. The 1985 debacle had been despite excellent seasons for Richards and Botham (with the bat) but the England all-rounder was captain and understandably took the flak.

He was replaced as skipper by the thoughtful opener, Peter Roebuck but 1986 wasn’t much better, as Somerset ended in sixteenth place. The ex-Millfield schoolboy enjoyed an excellent summer with the bat while Viv and Botham definitely weren’t at their best. They could be relied upon for star performances in the televised limited overs matches but when it came to the Championship, their hearts rarely appeared to be in it, especially in a struggling side. They certainly didn’t have a galvanising effect.

Roebuck identified the big stars as being a problem rather than the solution. A young Kiwi batsman called Martin Crowe was being courted by Essex and he was keen for the Somerset members to get in quick. The scene was set for a big showdown in Shepton Mallet in November 1986, the issue being who would be the overseas players for 1987: young Crowe or the old-stagers Richards and Garner?

I recall backing the Roebuck argument. Don’t get me wrong. I loved Viv. He was, and remains, one of my all-time sporting heroes. I’ve never seen a batsman like him. But Somerset needed a new strategy of building a new team around Crowe and Botham, with Roebuck guiding the troops from the front. The captain got his way, but the water were muddied when the flamboyant Botham promptly quit in support of his West Indian teammates.

His loyalty to friends was admirable but there was a bigger picture. The newly-published Roebuck diaries reveal Richards to be a bully and Botham too much of an egotistical playboy to make for a happy dressing room. I’m not saying Peter Roebuck was perfect, and rumours and charges of decidedly dodgy advocacy of personally-delivered corporal punishment caught up with him in 2011 resulted in suicide. However, he was a great servant of the county. Only four men have scored more County Championship runs for Somerset, and Viv isn’t one of them!

It was a difficult autumn for Somerset supporters but at least our first-class cricket improved in 1987. Crowe scored more than 1,600 runs at 68, with Roebuck, Felton and Hardy also topping 1,000. A young Steve Waugh also played two matches, scoring two centuries. Whatever happened to him?! With the ball, Vic Marks – later to be another excellent cricket journalist – continued to top the wickets table, while Garner’s pace was replaced by Adrian Jones and Neil Mallender, who both enjoyed a fine season. Meanwhile, Botham was a big-money signing for Worcestershire, Garner was sadly lost to county cricket for good and Richards switched to the Lancashire League before returning with Glamorgan in 1990. Roebuck himself ceded the captaincy to Marks in ’89 and stayed on as batsman until 1991.

In retrospect, this was not only a divisive but decisive period for county cricket. The traditional power of ‘old duffers’ – in Somerset, Yorkshire and elsewhere – was in decline, and player power was beginning to grow in the domestic as well as international game. Roebuck and Botham were never reconciled before the former’s death in South Africa and the latter remained a feisty personality. His fame grew in indirect proportion to his performances over the next several years and, for all his success at Taunton, I consider him over-rated, certainly in the second half of his career. I do have sympathy with Peter Roebuck, as much a Somerset legend as anyone. However, when you look around the County Ground, you see the Garner Gates, Richards Gates and the Sir Ian Botham Stand, but nothing for the captain who tried to put his club ahead of people. That’s the way of sport!

Cricket World Cup 2015 - Preview

It seems like only yesterday when MS Dhoni crunched that match-winning six in Mumbai to spark riotous celebrations and Sachin Tendulkar's fabulous boyish smile. So much has changed in four short years, not least India's entire attack.

Some of the best ever World Cup performers were on show in 2011 before retirement. Unsurprisingly, Tendulkar's longevity made him by far the top scorer in the competition's history, followed by Ricky Ponting, who at least had a few earlier cup successes under his belt prior to Australia's failure to make the semis last time. Muttiah Muralitharan bowed out as a beaten finalist, too.

So who else makes my all-time World Cup XI? For me, it's Herschelle Gibbs and Sanath Jayasuriya. Sehwag and Hayden have a decent claim, but the Sri Lankan practically invented the pinch-hitting opener role, combined with a haul of 27 valuable wickets. The South African scored 1,069 runs at more than 56 and a strike rate of 87, his exploits unrewarded in terms of silverware.

SRT and Ponting are there, of course, and there has to be room for the mighty Viv Richards. From his electric fielding in the inaugural Final to some mighty hitting in the next two competitions, he showed what was possible in ODIs, be they 60, 55 or 50 overs an innings. Imagine what he'd do in the modern era of big bats, small boundaries and Powerplays.

Adam Gilchrist was a phenomenon as wicketkeeper-batsman in any form of cricket but in World Cups he topped 1,000 runs and took more scalps behind the stumps than anyone else. No shortage of fantastic all-rounders to choose from, but I'd pick winning captains Imran Khan (Pakistan, 1992) and Kapil Dev (India, 1983). Murali is the obvious spin choice supported by leading wicket-taker Glenn McGrath (71 wickets at under four runs an over) and fellow Aussie Brett Lee. His economy rate was inferior but strike rate and average were better than all of the big names.

No current names grace that list but I wouldn't bet against AB De Villiers from usurping Gilly's place, and could the likes of Dale Steyn, Kumar Sangakkara and Dilshan press their claims for promotion from superstars to World Cup legends in what will surely be their swansongs? I reckon some of the younger players could really shine in the forthcoming weeks, and not necessarily the big hitters like Corey Anderson, Chris Gayle, Brendon McCullum or David Miller. The ICC rankings suggest the stars will include Amla, Kohli, AB, Shakib, Saeed Ajmal (if permitted) and Mitch Johnson. However, don't be surprised to see Joe Root, Kane Williamson, Trent Boult and Kyle Abbott making a few headlines.

I'm a huge supporter of an inclusive World Cup with the leading Associate nations having their day in the sun, striving to snatch unlikely successes against the odds and maybe inspiring youngsters in Ireland, Afghanistan, even the West Indies to take up the sport and be the World Cup legends of the future. Nevertheless I don't see anyone outside the top eight seeds from progressing to the quarter-finals. Bangladesh could do what they failed to do on home territory four years ago but at whose expense? Pool A looks too strong. However, could Zimbabwe or Ireland upset the Windies or Pakistan in Pool B? Not impossible.

In 2011, New Zealand and Sri Lanka reached the semis but my bold prediction for the last four is: Australia v India and New Zealand v England. Yes, England! Written off as no-hopers in the absence of Pietersen or any form for Eoin Morgan, I wouldn't rule them out in a one-off contest against, say, Pakistan or South Africa should Anderson and Broad shock the top order.

That leaves us with a battle of the two hosts, just as we did in the last World Cup. The Black Caps are buzzing right now and they look to have a good balance of bat and ball, seam and spin, but their fast bowlers are probably more swing than pace and bounce, which is likely to favour Starc and Johnson. Whether it's Smith or Clarke who leads them up to the podium, I'd say the eventual winners will be wearing green and gold.

I'd love South Africa or New Zealand to triumph for the first time and it will be fascinating to see how they fare against the hosts who must be favourites.

Steve Smith mixes it with Bradman but Viv and Sunil reign supreme!

As any cricket fan, Sir Don Bradman was the greatest batsman of all time. Full stop. Of course, players have accumulated far superior run totals given the huge increase in international cricket played these days. After all, in the time it took the Australian squad to sail (yes, sail) to England, modern day India and Sri Lanka would probably have squeezed in two three-Test series, seven ODIs and five T20s.

It was therefore interesting to see Steve Smith's aggregate of 769 in the recent series at home to India celebrated as beating the Don's previous record for a rubber against the Indians - and even that was over five matches (but only six innings) back in his twilight years following the Second World War. Bradman's overall series aggregate record of 974 in seven innings (in England in 1930) will take a lot of beating, with five-Test series a rarity these days. Nevertheless, Smith's total was the third highest for four-Test series in cricket's long and illustrious history. He struck four hundreds (all in the first innings) and two fifties, but what about the players above him?

Well, Smith was just five run adrift of Sunil Gavaskar, after whom half the current India-Australia trophy is named, who accumulated 774 in early 1971. The superb opener's feat was notable particularly because it came in the West Indies and also marked his international debut! The Windies had yet to develop their classic fast bowler battery, although Gavaskar would later prove one of the best players of pace and bounce since Bradman himself. Nevertheless, his debut featured two knocks of 60+ and two weeks later came the first century and a resilient 67 not out. He made an uncharacteristic failure in the first innings at Bridgetown but delivered another match-saving performance (117) a few days afterwards. Trinidad then witnessed Gavaskar at his best.

With India needing just a draw to secure the series, the decider as scheduled for six days. Gavaskar started with 124 but the Sobers-led opposition put together a strong first innings lead. He proceeded to grind out a memorable double-century spread over three days which not only saved the match but also set up what was nearly a shock victory.

However, even the great Sunil Gavaskar was overshadowed by one West Indian, King Viv himself five years in the long hot English summer of 1976. In the series which cemented Viv Richards as my favourite sportsman of all time, he batted only seven times yet topped and tailed the series with double-hundreds of power and strength not witnessed for decades.

At Trent Bridge he struck 31 fours and four sixes in 232 off the likes of John Snow, Derek Underwood and Mike Hendrick before top-scoring in a swift declaration-setting second innings. He missed the Lord's Test but on the second day at Old Trafford (rain almost wiped out day 1) nineteen wickets fell, including Viv's for 4. Gordon Greenidge's 134 was sensational in this context. Viv and Greenidge (again) reached three figures next time out, leaving Roberts, Holding and Daniel to destroy Tony Greig's supposedly stubborn veterans and take the game. At Headingley, Viv produced scores of 'only' 66 and 38 in another triumph but it was the Oval climax which raised this series to the heights of one of the most devastating England defeats of modern times.

I recall paying tennis as a 15 year-old in the summer holidays while spectators and families had radios tuned to Test Match Special while England were put to the sword on a pitch browned by weeks of relentless sun and negligible rainfall. Bob Willis had Greenidge LBW early on for a duck but in came Richards to plunder a fabulous 291. We all thought the Sobers record of 365 was absolutely there for the taking. Tony Greig was probably the only man there celebrating when he bowled the great man. Indeed, the crowd was full of can-tapping Caribbean fans anyway. To his credit Dennis Amiss responded with a double of his own but England were still dismissed 250-odd short. Instead of enforcing the follow-on, Clive Lloyd sent in Fredericks and Greenidge to smash 182 in 32 overs before on the final day Michael Holding was unplayable and the series was theirs. Everybody remembers Holding breaking wickets and English hearts that day but it was Viv's 291 and series aggregate of 829 which provided the anchor - nay the shield and sword - for that success. It was Greig who grovelled and the Windies never looked back.

Steve Smith produced a wonderful sequence of scores in the past few weeks but for excitement he has a long way to go to beat those performances of Gavaskar and Richards.

Rohit's Smash Hits

Records are there to be broken but I'd never have expected anyone to smash the world ODI record by such a huge margin, nor that the man to do it would be Rohit Sharma. It's not that he is a mediocre batsman; far from it. Anyone with a first-class average of almost 60, and one of the very few to have struck a double-century in a 50-over international, is a force to be reckoned with.

It wasn't always thus. Four fifties in his first 40-odd innings paints a picture of a slow burner, but after three years he finally burst into life with successive centuries in Bulawayo against Zimbabwe and Sri Lanka. In 2011, he enjoyed a good run of scores against West Indies before enduring a dreadful sequence of 17 runs in six innings in Sri Lanka the following summer. With Tendulkar and the old guard out of the picture, the 2013 Champions Trophy revived Sharma as a useful opener alongside Dhawan. A few months later on home territory, a series runfest included Rohit striking 141 not out and then 209 against Australia, the latter innings including an incredible sixteen sixes.

Virat Kohli's may still be the wicket that every bowler wants. However Rohit Sharma's elevation to the stratosphere by crashing 264 off Sri Lanka, beating Virender Sehwag's previous record by the huge distance of 45, must surely boost India's confidence after some dodgy results of late. Never mind that he was dropped on four; that's part and parcel of cricket. The statistic is there for all time.

As for whether he can do it for India in the World Cup Down Under, the jury remains out. He averages only 26 on the bouncier pitches of Australia, and a mere 12 in South Africa, although his fellow 27 year-old Suresh Raina isn't much better.

So what about today's match-winning effort? Will it ever be beaten? Of course it will. Someone will probably thump a triple against Zimbabwe in he not too distant future. But is it the greatest ODI innings of all time? The most runs, yes, but on today's featherbeds and short boundaries, I'd place Kapil Dev's 1983 World Cup knock of 175 after coming in at 9 for 4 much higher. Shane Watson's blistering 185 three years ago in Dhaka was a superb show of power hitting. Then of course there's Viv Richards' then world best of 189 not out.

In a 55-over game at Old Trafford thirty years ago, the Master Blaster blasted Botham, Willis et al for an unbeaten 189 out of an innings of 272-9. Only Eldine Baptiste (batting eight) and Michael Holding (at ten) also made double figures! Just as Sharma beat Sri Lanka's total on his own, so did Viv outscore England that day. I know I'm biased but for all Sharma's additional runs, it'll take a lot to beat the King's magnificent performance of 31st May 1984.

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.

Sachin Tendulkar, from twinkle-toed teenager to sporting legend

The world's media have descended on Mumbai, as have every Indian businessman and politician, hoping that some Sachin sparkle will rub off on to their careers. Cynical? Me? Of course, but that's the age we live in. Of course we can still find something in sport that creates shivers down the spine, raises the hairs on the arms and brings tears to the eyes of the most hardened of critics. The arrival of Sachin Tendulkar onto the Wankhede pitch for what could be the last time ever was one such moment.

Admittedly, I didn't see it; I was tucked up in bed 4,000-odd miles away. However, this should go down as one of the most celebrated farewells in sporting history. At least the Little Master fared better than Don Bradman in his final match, but could he retire with what is now a rare century? Will anyone dare to get him out?! I remember feeling a lmup in the throat when Viv Richards strutted out in his last Test at The Oval 23 years ago, the banner on the pitch-side house saying what we all felt: "We'll miss you, Viv". That, I suspect, will be nothing compared with the sentiments expressed by the billion Indians and those of all cricket-loving nationalities this week.

Tendulkar may be a little more grizzled than he was a quarter of a century ago, a little slower on his feet but he remains the cool, calm, quiet character of old. Just squillions of rupees richer! It's a different era now, of course. SRT's career may have been extended by the fact he hardly ever plays anything other than T20 for his hometown franchise these days. However, he has been blessed by 25 seasons of almost injury-free success. As an even littler master he was talked up as a future megastar. Others have had high hopes heaped on their youthful shoulders only for real life to get in the way. Sachin has lived up to those early epithets, and more.

It makes watching film of those early innings even more extraordinary. He made his international debut at 16 in what must have been challenging circumstances, batting at six against Karachi. Being bowled for 15 by Waqar Younis was no embarrassment for anyone at that time. Next time at the crease he scored a painstaking half-century at Faisalabad, but he failed to reach three figures until Test number eight, by which time young Tendulkar had turned seventeen.

Today I enjoyed TV pictures of his feet dancing down the pitch to drive Chris Lewis, rising on those twinkling toes to cut Devon Malcolm or punch Angus Fraser to the cover boundary. The mop of curly hair was a little darker and looser at a hot, dry Old Trafford in August 1990 but his timing, temperament and talent were clear for all to see. The commentary of '50s and '60s bowling legends Richie Benaud and Jim Laker reflected that; here was a young man with bags of potential, and his 68 and 119 not out offered statistical proof. Who remembers that his skipper Azharuddin struck a superb 179 in the first innings, or that four England batsmen also scored centuries in the same game?

I don't know how many players he has partnered in those 200 Tests and 463 ODIs, let alone all the other first-class and limited-over matches, but SR Tendulkar's name has appeared on scorecards for 25 years. He started out alongside Kapil Dev and Dilip Vengsarkar, heroes from the Seventies, and now he bows out in the exciting young company of Kohli and Pujara, who should keep India strong well into the 2020s.
That may be just as much of a legacy as those 50,000 runs, hundred international hundreds and scintillating strokeplay in all forms of cricket. For that we should all be grateful. We'll miss you, Sachin...

Heatwave Hysteria

Outside London and the Home Counties we go berserk whenever the thermometer creeps close to 25 degrees. Imagine the feeling now after a fortnight of such temperatures! At least the cricketers are getting onto the pitch and fans are confident of buying discounted advance T20 tickets safe in the knowledge the game won't be rained off, unlike last year's miserable summer.

For anybody aged at least 50 or so, the word heatwave conjures up memories of 1976. Weeks of unending sunshine, no wind, the school sponsored walk being curtailed for fear of mass hopitalisation, while the UK economy went down the toilet. Then, as now,it was foreigners getting the blame. In 2013, it's European migrant workers. 37 years ago, it was the Caribbean population in the cities. The white English backlash acquired a voice in the neo-Nazi National Front while these days it's the rise of UKIP and the English Defence League.

Living in Essex black faces were extemely rare but what I shared with the West Indians living in London, Birmingham, Bristol and elsewhere was enjoyment of Caribbean cricket and watching Clive Lloyd's new team bewitch and bewilder England, and not just in terms of cricket. The cacophany of rhythmic beer can percussion, especially at The Oval, still rings in my ears now - and I experienced it only via BBC TV. The vast brown desert of The Oval's outfield traversed by Michael Holding's mesmerising run-up also remains fixed in the brain.

The book and film 'Grovel!' brilliantly evoke the atmosphere of the cricketing summer, and reminded me, sitting in the uncomfortable heat, of the selection measures resorted to by England to counter the threat posed by the four-man pace attack. The notion of a barrage of dangerous bouncers seems alien in these times of batting-friendly rules. Then, while umpires could intervene to stop 'intimidatory' bowling, there was no limit to the number of short-pitched deliveries. And Lloyd's attack took full advantage. Trouble is, the ludicrously long run-ups employed by Andy Roberts, Wayne Daniel, Holding and co made for a dreary spectacle. Twelve overs an hour became the norm, later prompting minimum over rules in Test cricket. The strokeplay of Lloyd, Roy Fredericks and the relatively youthful Gordon Greenidge and Viv Richards was anything but boring. Quite the reverse, and Viv became my all-time favourite sportsman on the back of his scintillating drives hooks and pulls that long hot summer.

But I digress. 1976 was also the summer of recalls for batsmen considered well past their prime, or those whose prime had previously gone completely unnoticed by the short-sighted selectors in their ivory tower at Lord's. In 1975, the grey-haired, bespectacled figure of David Steele had been summoned to replicate his form for Northants, particularly against fast bowling, against Lillee and Thomson. He had scored no centuries but had avoided calamity to the extent that his efforts (rather than achievements) earned him the unlikely accolade of BBC Sports Personality of the Year! A year later, he was an automatic choice, at 33, for the West Indies series. But who to join him?

The answer was probably the oldest English Test side of all time. Geoff Boycott was missing through bloody-mindedness then injury, Dennis Amiss because of fear of fast bowling after being hurt a few times, and so the 39 year-old John Edrich was crucial to open the innings. 34 year-old John Snow remained England's best fast bowler, despite being increasingly injury-prone. However, some of the young county batsmen were not considered ready to throw into the firing line. Enter Brian Close. At 45, the former England captain and professional Yorkshireman (see also Boycott) had moved to lead a young Somerset side but his fearless persona and willingness to take the bruises rather than risk reckless hooks to the short stuff catapulted him into the England team. He performed well enough to keep his place but the West Indies were simply too good. Skipper Tony Greig was given a torrid time after his 'grovel' comments and another late 30-something in good nick for his county, Chris Balderstone, was given a couple of Test caps.

His first innings at Headingley brought 35 runs in 3 1/2 hours before being caught behind off Roberts. Second time of asking, he was out in similar fashion for just 4. At The Oval, he bagged a pair, as Holding ran rampant. By the time England introduced people like Peter Willey, Mike Selvey, Geoff Miller and Frank Hayes, the series was already lost. Willey and Miller continued their international careers but the following years saw wholesale changes promoted by the departure to the 'Packer Circus'.

Nevertheless, I'm just happy to soak up all this sunshine and recall the glorious summer of '76. Get me another Cornetto!

When England last whitewashed the Windies 3-0

Despite the resting of key bowlers, you'd have to back England to polish off an impressive 3-0 thrashing of the West Indies at Headingley. Darren Sammy's players have the ability to get a result but too many of them fail to perform consistently, especially at the top of the batting order. Their T20 specialists Pollard and Dwayne Bravo have often looked perplexed when faced with a bit more responsibility and a different kind of bowling, and it will be interesting to see how Chris Gayle copes with the 50-over game after so long in the shadows, should he be fit to play, that is.

It's been a while since England whitewashed the Windies in a 3-game home ODI series. They did so in both 1988 and 1991 in the days when the visitor had a team worthy of fear and respect. 21 years ago, the 55-over Texaco Trophy series began in Leeds, with England sneaking a one-wicket win when Mike Atherton carried his bat for 69 against Marshall, Walsh, Ambrose and Patterson. Two days later at Old Trafford, the winning margin was a mere nine runs when skipper Viv Richards couldn't quite see his side home and Allan Lamb was the man of the match. The 3-0 was achieved with far more ease. Graeme Hick and Neil Fairbrother shared a double-century partnership, the latter striking 113 in a seven-wicket triumph.

Perhaps the more surprising whitewash came in 1988. The West Indies had enjoyed successive 5-0 thumpings of England in Test series and, although no longer one-day world champs, were still a formidable force in all forms of cricket. Indeed, they went on to win four of the five Tests later that summer, when Curtly Ambrose was imperious and nigh-on unplayable. However, the tourists' summer got off to the worst start when England won in Birmingham by six wickets.

The Windies fielded almost exactly the same eleven as faced England three years later but the home team had a different look. Gladstone Small took the wickets of Greenidge Richards, Logie and Hooper as Viv Richards' men were dismissed for only 217. In reply, debutant Monte Lynch was run out second ball for a duck but captain Gatting's unbeaten 82 saw them home and signalled England would not be a pushover.

Runs were even harder to come by at Heaingley, and all six Windies bowlers kept things tight. Perhaps the pitch suited the seamers, as first Dujon, then Downton pouched four catches behind the wicket. Small was again on fire, taking 2-11 from nine overs, while Derek Pringle's medium pace claimed 3-30, and Viv's men capitulated 47 runs short.

At Lord's, England put the opposition into bat again, and their supremely talented batsmen once more failed to deliver. That they reached 178-7 owed most to Malcolm Marshall's 41 in 30 balls at the end. De Freitas and Pringle were particularly mean in attack. So were Marshall and Walsh, but it was Hooper's spin that was the weak link - and the high number of no-balls - and after a slow start, Gatting and Lamb ensured a highly unexpected trio of triumphs.

So what was the secret? Are there any parallels with the current England side? Here's one possible answer. In that concluding fixture, the team fielded Lamb, Pringle, Radford, De Freitas, Small and Lynch. The first three were born in Africa, the latter trio in the Caribbean. Say no more! Strauss and Flower must hope that the class of 2012 do not fold so flabbily as their predecessors did in the following five-day matches. While South Africa should perform better than India last year, somehow I doubt they will match the world Test number ones.

April 15th - a day to forget for England in Antigua

England and the West Indies have a had a fair few ding-dongs over the years, with the former coming off second best more often than not. The home series whitewashes of 1984 and 1988, and the long hot summer tour of 1976 remain vivid memories to me, although Tony Greig, David Gower and Mike Gatting may prefer to bury their heads at the very mention of Michael Holding, Viv Richards, Malcolm Marshall, Curtly Ambrose et al.

The two sides enjoyed some entertaining contests in the Caribbean, too, often taking place later in the winter. Indeed, the 15th April alone has witnessed some great performances over the years. Traditionally, the final Test took place at St John's, Antigua and in 1986, by the time the teams moved on to this beautiful island, England were already facing a second successive annihilation having lost the first four matches. Centuries had been few and far between, but Gower's side had consistently been blown away by Marshall, Patterson, Garner and an ageing Holding.

On his home ground, Viv was the skipper, but in the first innings, Desmond Haynes scored 131, and some beefy late-order blasts from Marshall, Harper and Holding took the Windies to 474. In response, openers Gooch and Wilf Slack shared a century partnership and Gower stroked an attractive 90, batting into day four. A draw looked a likely outcome. However, following the rest day (yes, they had them in those days!) Garner and Marshall instigated a late collapse and in came Haynes and Richie Richardson. The latter crawled to 31 but when Emburey had him caught, Richards ambled on, determined to win. When in that kind of mood, he was going to lead from the front and woe betide the bowlers.

What followed, 26 years ago today, was one of the most scintillating displays of batting ever seen and even now, Viv's 56-ball century remains the fastest in Test match history. There were seven sixes, from the casual to brutal. One straight hit almost decapitated his friend Ian Botham! He struck two more boundaries before declaring at 246-2. Roger Harper, himself no slouch, had contributed just 19 out of an 85-run partnership. With a target of 411 in just over a day, England desperately dug in to avoid defeat, surviving almost 80 overs but they could score only 170 before Man of the Series Marshall applied the coup de grace. 5-0, and probably only possible because of that breathtaking innings by the mighty Viv Richards.

Exactly four years later, the West Indies produced another record-breaking performance. However, the backdrop was very different. Still Antigua, but they were all square in the series and so this was the decider. England had shocked the world by winning the First Test with ease but in the Fourth, Curtly Ambrose's 8-45 had restored parity. Loads of LBWs but no DRS!

At St John's, England won the toss and scrambled 260 runs by the second morning, Ian Bishop taking 5-84. In marched Gordon Greenidge and Desmond Haynes and they were still there at stumps, each in three figures. On Day 3 (April 15th), they swept past England's total and by the time Greenidge was run out for 149 the pair had racked up what is still a record opening partnership for the West Indies, at 298. They had many double-century stands over the years and together scored more Test runs than any partnership ever.

What made this one even more remarkable is that nobody else in the game could muster even a 50. Second time around, England fared even worse, with some fearsome short-pitched pace bowling which would never be permitted now. In fact, it probably shouldn't have been allowed then. Robin Smith eventually retired hurt with a broken hand, while Nasser Hussain and Allan Lamb top-scored while each nursing fractures of their own. The West Indies won by an innings with well over a day to spare, and snatched the series 2-1.