I have a power that is supernatural.
Sadly, for me - and for you, it is not a power that has any value to the world in general and, in some cases, it can have distressing consequences, not just for me but for several thousand other people too.
On the morning of Saturday November 24th last year, I was still lying in bed when I turned on the radio and heard the news headlines.
I rose. “My country needs me.”
"What, again?” Caroline asked, wearily.
Unlike other better known superheroes, I don’t wear a distinctive costume while carrying out my missions. I could, I suppose but I don’t. Unlike all of them, I need to have the occasional pee. A zipless onesie like Superman’s would be no good for me.
That morning, I heard on the radio that Sri Lanka were piling on the runs in the third cricket test match against England at Colombo and I decided that a dressing gown and slippers were all I needed for this assignment.
I went downstairs and turned on the television. The first ball I saw bowled had the inevitable, desired effect:
Karunaratne c Jennings b Rashid 83
That's it! That is my power.
Whenever I join cricket coverage on television, a wicket falls.
It can’t be coincidence because it happens every time. If it’s not the first ball, it will be the second or third. It always happens.
The next seven wickets fell in the following 70 balls and Sri Lanka were all out. I can't claim credit for that, however. That was down to good bowling and poor batting. It (possibly) had nothing to do with me.
It’s when England are batting that it is distressing.
Jos Buttler LBW b Bumrah 106 - at Trent Bridge last summer.
That was my fault. Sorry Jos but I really had to answer the door to a delivery man.
My power was in overdrive that day as Bairstow was out the very next ball. England lost that match and it was partly my fault. My power is a curse when I use it carelessly and I find it interesting that it doesn't work with the radio.
The Test Match Special radio commentary on the BBC has always been wonderful. It is so good that I tend to think that television pictures don’t actually add very much to the image I’ve already conjured in my mind’s eye.
My habit, in common with many people, is to watch the cricket on a silent television set while listening to the radio commentary.
However, there are circumstances when I turn the radio off to grudgingly and reluctantly listen to the commentary, views and opinions of Sky’s television commentators. Before last summer, it was whenever Henry Blofeld was on air.
Blofeld became so busy trying to establish himself as a “National Treasure”, that he forgot the main purpose of his role. I couldn’t stand his calculated, pre-planned quirks and rehearsed idiosyncrasies.
I heard someone suggest that Blofeld should be knighted. I don’t have a gong to return in protest if that were to happen, but I would certainly return my ‘O’ level certificates - if I can find them.
It’s when I listen to Sky’s television commentary that I know why I always prefer the radio. In the last couple of years, those commentators, who are all sometime test cricketers as well as being intelligent, articulate men, seem to have invented a whole new glossary of terms and a lot of them are just nonsense and drivel.
Batting:
Why do those commentators keep saying that a batsman hits the ball at “the top of the bounce?” That is just rubbish. Except for in extraordinary circumstances, the ball is always rising as it reaches and passes the batsman. The top of the bounce is going to be some way behind the stumps.
When a batsman has been tied down for some time, he might have a wild swing at the ball, usually towards midwicket.
“That’s his release shot,” says the commentator. No, it isn’t. It’s a slog.
Television commentators, when describing a batsman may say that he “has good bat speed”, “gets his hands through the ball” or that he has “fast hands.” What they mean is that he hits the ball hard.
If the batting side are in a spot of trouble and it’s important not to lose a wicket, the Sky commentators are forever saying that the batsmen, “must build a partnership.”
When the batting side is “experiencing scoreboard pressure”, all it means is that they need to score a lot of runs because the other side has scored many more.
Whenever there has been a long period without rain, the outfield is dry and the grass has been cut short, we are for ever being told that, “you get value for your shots on this ground”. There is a fast outfield is all they mean.
Some of the things they said last summer were completely unintelligible such as, “That’s very handsy.” I have absolutely no idea what that meant.
Bowling:
Often, when a wicket falls, we are told that the bowler, “gets the breakthrough”. Not every wicket is a “breakthrough”. In reality, it is only a “breakthrough” when a large stand is ended and to say, “Just one breakthrough so far,” when only one wicket has fallen in an innings is complete nonsense.
Apparently, bowlers no longer vary the pace of deliveries. “He took the pace off the ball” means it was slower than the average, while a bowler who is “bowling a heavy ball” or, “bowling with good wheels” means that he’s bowling quicker.
After a wicket fell at Lord’s last summer, we were told by the tv commentator that the bowler had turned the batsman “into an S.” I have no idea what that meant but he had just been out caught, edging to gully.
Another piece of absolute nonsense is when a commentator says of a bowler, “He’s aiming to hit the top of the stumps.” This is rubbish because the effect of bounce ensures that the lowest three quarters of the stumps are rarely hit when a batsman is bowled. Only a full toss, a shooter or a downward deflection from the edge of the bat will hit below half way up the stumps.
There was no Blofeld to irritate me last summer but I switched to listen to the television commentary when the “expert summariser” on the radio was a woman.
Calm down!
Actually, I probably don’t need to worry too much as I suspect that most readers of these ramblings are more than 35 years old and are not constantly seeking something to be offended by.
Ramble:
As you are probably aged over 35, you may remember a phrase that I used to hear quite often but I haven’t heard for probably 60 years: “One and two halves, please.”
Who would have said that, to whom and in what circumstances? I didn’t frequent pubs 60 years ago and so it wasn’t someone ordering beer. The answer is at the end.
Still with me?
I am a vehement supporter of women’s cricket. If my 8-year-old granddaughter has a sporting ambition at the moment, it is to become an Olympic cyclist. She seems to spend most of her free time with her local cycling club at the velodrome.
I support her in this but I would be really pleased if she were just as keen to become an international cricketer.
Cricket is the perfect sport for girls and women. Any female, no matter her shape or build, can play cricket and enjoy playing cricket.
I very much enjoy watching women’s cricket and I enjoy it in much the same way as I enjoy watching ballroom dancing. It is skilful, graceful and even elegant in a way that men’s cricket isn’t.
However, women’s cricket is also different from men’s in the same way that as birds, a Chaffinch is different from a Golden Eagle.
I’m sorry if it offends your politically correct sensibilities but to have a woman as an “expert summariser” on men’s test cricket is plainly absurd.
Over the past thirty years the Test Match Special summarisers have included Trevor Bailey, Fred Trueman, Phil Tufnell, Geoff Boycott, Graeme Swan and Michael Vaughan and those six have the experience of more than 3000 first class matches and 420 test matches between them.
They all felt the pressure of playing test cricket in front of tens of thousands of spectators and millions of television viewers. They all experienced then what the players are undergoing now.
On the other hand, the woman who was employed by the BBC last summer, never played in a women's test match and although she did play some One-Day Internationals, she had little success.
She played before crowds of maybe a few hundred that rarely reached a thousand. She is very articulate, can be very amusing and probably has a bright future in broadcasting, perhaps as a presenter but to describe her as an expert summariser is bizarre. She is not an “expert”.
The only way that a viewer without a Sky subscription could see test cricket on television last summer was to watch the day’s highlights on Channel 5.
To achieve diversity, Channel 5 dropped Simon Hughes, an ex-player and a renowned, technical expert on cricket, in favour of a female sports journalist who doesn’t appear to have ever played the game. She has a very pleasant speaking voice but seems to know nothing at all about cricket.
All she ever does is to state the blindingly obvious or tell us something we already know.
“That’s four” “Caught at slip” “That’s the hundred up” “Last over before tea”and “Five from the over” are typical examples of her “insights”.
A perfect example of her lack of appreciation of one basic aspect of the game, never mind the finer points, came just before the finish of the fourth test at Southampton:
Ashwin, the Indian batsman, slashed at the ball, wide outside the off stump and it went screaming towards Jimmy Anderson, fielding at backward point.
The ball was travelling like a rocket about six feet over and to the left of Anderson’s head. To hear her commentary with no accompanying images, you would think that he had dropped a simple catch:
“Oh, how’s that happened? How…has…that…happened? Jimmy Anderson, normally such a safe pair of hands.”
In fact, Anderson had done marvellously well to even get a hand on the ball and in doing so, save four runs.
I wouldn’t expect to get the job of the BBC Economics Correspondent just because I have a bank account and a credit card.
Diversity isn’t always a good thing.
I would hear, “One and two halves, please,” when my mother was telling the bus conductor that she wanted tickets for her, me and my brother. Is it still said today or does everyone use travel cards? At that time, children’s bus tickets must have been half the price of adult ones.
