Can Anyone Hear Me?

by Peter Baxter

‘Not so,’ I said. ‘It was specifically mentioned and I was told it would make no difference to the contract.’ TWI were able immediately to confirm that.

  So, apparently grudgingly and with a further remark that we would never allow it in England, which was easy to dismiss, we were given the go-ahead.

  The Cable and Wireless man muttered, ‘It’s on’ into his walkie-talkie and by the time I got back to the press box the line was through to London.

  A few nights later, I had dinner with Steve Camacho, who was as genial as ever. I had no further contact with Mr Victor Michael, though.

  It was unfortunate that this was my first encounter with Antigua. It took another couple of tours before I warmed to the place at all.

  There was one other incident during that Test, when the West Indies took the field on the second morning as their captain, Viv Richards, still in T-shirt and black jeans, was in the press box remonstrating with Jim Lawton of the Daily Express about something he had written the previous day. Viv was fortunate that after a few balls had been bowled a shower brought the players off and he was able to lead the team out on the resumption.

  Two days later, the West Indies clinched the series two-one.

  A week before all this we had been in the throes of another diplomatic incident.

  We had arrived in Barbados for the fourth Test, with England remarkably one-nil up, after a surprise win in Jamaica, the abandoned Guyana Test and a tense draw in Trinidad. In fortress Barbados, though, the West Indies had not lost a Test match since the Second World War and they now flexed their muscles, declaring on the fourth evening, leaving England a theoretical 356 to win. But by the close of play, in failing light, England were 15 for three.

  Sunday 8 April 1990

  When the second wicket fell, I was already in the passage outside the dressing room, waiting to snatch a quick interview with Gladstone Small after his eight wickets in the match. I was aware of what seemed like a very delayed decision to give Rob Bailey out after a huge appeal and then Bailey himself came past me, muttering darkly. A helmeted Small emerged from the dressing room to go out as night watchman. I returned to the commentary box just in time to see him out too, and then to hear Michael Holding’s opinion that Bailey had been given out caught down the leg side off his thigh pad.

  It sounded like just an unfortunate mistake by a usually good umpire, Lloyd Barker, but I also heard that what seemed to have been a change in his decision might have been the result of a charge down the wicket, with arm twirling, by Viv Richards.

  I heard further that Barker had actually handed the bowler his cap at the end of the over before he raised his finger.

  In the usual shopping list of reports that we were always asked for at the close of play for different programmes, Christopher Martin-Jenkins was commissioned to do a reflective piece for next morning’s Radio 4 Today programme. He wrote this carefully. In the course of it he built up to talking about the Bailey decision by saying that both sides had cheated each other over the business of over-rates. He went on to say that this evening a previously good umpire had been pressured into changing his decision.

  What we did not consider was that, to make things easier, the World Service sports unit then based in Bush House, always had a feed of our line from the West Indies, so that they could record whatever they needed. The next morning they used the piece that had been directed at a Radio Four audience on their sports bulletin beamed back to the Caribbean, which is frequently re-broadcast by the local stations there.

  Strangely, it was the rest day of the Test – after four days’ play. Early in the morning I received a phone call from Reds Pereira, one of the Voice of Barbados commentary team. He suggested that I should listen to the station.

  Monday 9 April 1990

  I was astonished to hear that the report that CMJ had done for the Today programme was the leading topic of the news. It seemed that it had been picked up from the World Service, used all morning and then been interpreted as an attack on a Bajan umpire, Lloyd Barker.

  I listened to a phone-in being conducted by the VOB Sports Editor, Erskine King, another member of the commentary team. He seemed to be relishing stirring up what was being referred to as ‘the Martin-Jenkins affair’.

  Christopher, when I saw him, was understandably very apprehensive about the whole business. We went together to the England team hotel for the rest-day press conference and he managed to get himself involved in the VOB discussion programme, which was again being chaired by Erskine King, to explain remarks which seemed to have been totally misconstrued. By this time, though, the controversy was blazing nicely and no one was inclined to douse the flames.

  The problem seemed to be that the word ‘cheat’ had been used in the same piece as the reference to the umpire. The fact that it did not refer to the umpire was of no concern to those who wanted to make mischief.

  As chance would have it, I was a guest that day of the Caribbean Broadcasting Union at a lunch. I had to deal with the topic of the day with as much diplomacy as I could muster.

  Further radio programmes that I heard during the afternoon made me realise that for the final day of the Test it would be impossible to share commentary with a local station. Eventually, in the evening, I spoke to VOB’s general manager and we agreed that we would set up our own commentary position. He promised any technical help we needed. At this point I was particularly glad that my wife had brought the extra equipment out with her.

  During the day, as we described England fighting to stave off defeat – and failing to do so – there was a knock on the commentary box door. I found a large man outside with ‘BAILIFF’ handwritten on a badge on his lapel. ‘Is Christopher Martin-Jenkins here?’ he wanted to know.

  I told him he was on the air and he stayed outside, but as I took over from Christopher, I whispered a warning. A minute or two later CMJ was served with a summons for libelling Lloyd Barker.

  Over the next four years the case rumbled on with no resolution until the BBC, taking local legal advice that, however things might appear to us, they could not hope to win such a sensitive case in Barbados, settled out of court.

  On subsequent tours Barbados was always the jewel in the crown. Usually coming towards the end of the trip, the Test match there is something to look forward to. For once the jealous comments down the line from London might be justified.

  Like Georgetown and Port-of-Spain, Kingston, Jamaica, is a city far from anyone’s idea of a holiday venue. Close to Sabina Park, the Test ground in the capital, is Gun Court, the prison for those convicted of crimes involving firearms. The advice to visitors is not to wander the streets.

  I naively thought before I went there that I would not recognise the sweet smell of ganja. That was before I walked across the small grassy hill at Sabina Park that used to be beside the press box stand, where the air was thick with the smoke from spliffs and I realised what it was I was smelling.

  Indeed, on the 1998 tour, when England played the West Indies ‘A’ at Chedwin Park near Spanish Town, not far from Kingston, I walked round the ground enjoying a contemplative smoke of my pipe. The trees beyond the walls of the ground, which was surrounded by cane fields, contained spectators sitting in the branches, as is something of a Caribbean custom. As I walked by, puffing away, a voice from one tree called, ‘Hey, man. Come over here an’ I put something more interestin’ in dat pipe.’

  I hasten to say I did not accept the offer.

  That 1998 visit to Jamaica was famously to be cut dramatically short. On that tour we had rented a circuit on the Sky television satellite that was sending their pictures and sound. They had room for one out-going line and so I had to run a cable from our box to the TV control room in each place and put together another complicated arrangement for our other broadcast requirements with a slightly poorer quality line. My luggage for the tour included a hundred-metre drum of cable, whic
h drew a cheer from my colleagues whenever it emerged on to airport baggage belts. This all made for a fairly lengthy day’s rigging and negotiating before each of the Tests and one-day internationals on that tour.

  One other matter intruded into the preparations for this first Test. Just before I had left home, the papers had been full of a court case in France, where Geoff Boycott had been convicted of an assault on his girlfriend. Boycott was due to be part of the Test Match Special team in the West Indies and looking at the lurid headlines, I thought we might have a problem. I rang the head of sport and was advised that he would consult others and get back to me.

  A fortnight after this, three days before the first Test, I received a call from London instructing me to drop Boycott from our team. The matter had gone as high as the Director General of the BBC. It took me half a day to track down Geoffrey and break the bad news to him. It is possible that at that moment the seeds were sown for the future tours when Talk Sport secured the broadcasting rights, with Geoffrey at the heart of their team.

  With that and the lengthy technical set up, it was a relief when the action started and, with everything apparently working, I could concentrate on the cricket.

  Thursday 29 January 1998

  England had chosen to bat and it soon became apparent that this was not an easy surface on which to do that. Stewart was hit on the shoulder in the second over and in the third Atherton and Butcher – to his first ball of the tour – were caught at gully and third slip.

  The physio started coming on frequently as the ball reared unexpectedly. Then Hussain was caught at second slip and it was 9 for three.

  After an hour – and six visits from the physio, Wayne Morton – the drinks were called on and Atherton and the referee, Barry Jarman, came out to talk to the umpires and to Brian Lara.

  After ten minutes, both teams left the field and three-quarters of an hour later came the announcement that the Test had been abandoned because the pitch was too dangerous.

  Now the work really did start, with reports for every BBC network and, even a call from Radio New Zealand, wanting a live contribution to their breakfast programme.

  Reports continued on the phone from the hotel way into the night, by which time we had a press handout with a new schedule, which would include an extra Test in Trinidad, but with so many people to move, I noted in my diary:

  Now, how to get to Trinidad?

  Friday 30 January 1998

  I was woken at 6.30 by the phone and John Snow (our travel agent) saying, ‘I can get you on a flight to Trinidad at midday. The flight’s full, so don’t be late.’

  Aggers is staying to fly with the team tomorrow, but I rushed off to be charged huge sums of money for excess baggage and then we had a three-hour delay because of an electrical fault with the aircraft.

  Eventually we were hurried onto the plane, which was to do the usual round of the islands en route to Trinidad. On the first leg of this, the pilot announced himself on the intercom. ‘Good news and bad news,’ he said. ‘The electrical fault has returned. If we land in Antigua or Barbados, they won’t let me take off again, so my head office in Trinidad has told me to go straight to Port-of-Spain.’ There were groans from those in the plane who were bound for the other islands, but it was a great result for me!

  The hastily arranged extra Test match – officially the second – turned out to be a gripping, comparatively low-scoring affair. The West Indies had to make the highest total of the match in the fourth innings to win, which they did – by three wickets.

  The new arrangements gave us two Test matches on the same ground back to back and on the first day of the second of these we made a bit of broadcasting history.

  Friday 13 February 1998

  In the afternoon I asked Donna Symmonds to do a session of commentary. I have seen and heard her operating on a few Tests on previous tours. She is very experienced and Victor and Selve have both been working with her on Radio 610 here and reckon she’s very good. I await the response from England with interest.

  Thus did Test Match Special launch its first female commentator. And on her home island of Barbados she was with us again on that tour, and also joined us in England for the World Cup the following year.

  That second Trinidad Test match also had a three-wicket winning margin – but this time to England. The batting of Chanderpaul and Lara made the difference in Guyana and the Barbados Test was largely washed out.

  In Antigua, too, the weather took a hand. A lot of time was lost over the first two days, when England were batting – and only making 127. With better conditions, the West Indies ran up 500 and left England five and a half sessions of play to save the game. At the end of the fourth day they were 173 for three.

  Tuesday 24 March 1998

  There was obviously rain around and it began in earnest just before the start of this last day’s play, so that there was no play before lunch. However it was fine to start at 12.45, with two sessions to go.

  Hussain and Thorpe batted until they were almost safe. Then Thorpe set off for a suicidal single and Hussain was run out by three-quarters of the length of the pitch.

  And with that the collapse started. They were all out in the ninth over of the last fifteen and the West Indies had won by an innings and 52 runs, to take the series three-one.

  Instead of going into the usual intolerably noisy corridor outside the dressing room for the post match interviews we were led up the stairs to a VIP lounge, which had been set up for a press conference. As television cameras arrived, I had an inkling that this was going to be more than just end-of-series remarks.Mike Atherton came in with a piece of paper in his hand.

  Ready to lead off the press conference as I was, I asked quietly, ‘Are you reading a statement?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. It could only be the resignation of the captaincy. And it was.

  Jonathan Agnew had booked his flight home for that evening and in fact had his suitcase at the ground ready to go straight to the airport, so his reports on this momentous announcement had to be fairly swiftly delivered. I heard later that he had to do more when he disembarked at Gatwick the next morning.

  On the previous tour to the West Indies, the final Test in Antigua had belonged to one man – Brian Lara. On the flattest of pitches, he was 164 at the end of the first day and 320 at the end of the second day. I wanted a word with him early on the third morning, but was told he had gone for a round of golf. Clearly Sobers’ 365 record was in danger of falling and duly at 11.45 on the morning of 18 April 1994 Lara pulled a ball from Lewis for four to set up a new record. The game stopped for several minutes while well-wishers, including Sir Garry himself, came out to shake his hand. To be honest, after the first day it had just seemed inevitable.

  Lara’s record innings of 375 stood for nine and a half years. Matthew Hayden was the man who broke it – by five runs against Zimbabwe. Brian Lara’s recapture of the title six months later seemed almost more inevitable than his 375 had. This time he made it to 400 not out, before he declared at 751 for five. Antiguans were just as keen, though, to celebrate the unbeaten hundred made by their man, Ridley Jacobs.

  Monday 12 April 2004

  Just after the close of play, our phone rang and a voice announced himself as Matthew Hayden. He was after a number for Brian Lara. There was a moment when I thought it might be a leg-pull, but he convinced me he was genuine, so I gave him Simon Mann’s mobile number, as Simon was at the other end of the round, covering the Lara press conference.

  I discovered later that it had worked and Simon had handed the phone to Lara in the West Indies dressing room. It was a pity we had no way of getting Hayden on the air.

  While the laid-back attitude that pervades the Caribbean can infuriate a producer trying to get his show on the air, it is, of course, the essence of the charm of the region. On one tour the press contingent were invited to drinks at the
residence of the prime minister of St Vincent. It was a fairly ordinary house in a nice hilltop location and we found the PM with his shoes off in an armchair in front of his television. I thought maybe we had made a mistake and got the wrong evening, but, no, he was expecting us.

  As the only Test-playing area to the west of Britain, the pressures of the time difference are not the same as the rest of the cricket world. Here, instead of getting most of the day’s work done before the office at home is functioning, they are liable to be champing at the bit to talk to you first thing, but have lost interest by the close of play. It does, though, make for very good audience figures.

  And then there is the music of a West Indies tour. Trinidad is the most musical island, particularly in the run-up to Carnival, but whatever song is popular at the time will be in your ears throughout the tour. David Rudder or maybe Destra and always the evocative sounds of Bob Marley will be belted out through the public address systems at the grounds or just heard in the streets.

  Tours seemed to come to a crescendo with the final Test at the old ground in Antigua – the Recreation Ground in St John’s, with the prison on one side and the cathedral on the other – which used to rock with the sounds of Chickie’s disco and rejoice at the antics of Gravy, the extravagant cross-dresser who would cavort on a platform at the front of the stand.

  Now, that really wouldn’t happen at Lord’s.

  The Cricket Highlights (iv)

  Jamaica 1990

  For a remarkable and unexpected change of fortune, it is hard to think of better than 1990 in Jamaica. England started that tour having failed to win a single Test match against the West Indies for sixteen years. Their previous Jamaica Test, four years earlier, had seen them annihilated by fast bowling on an uneven pitch, which had given Patrick Patterson seven wickets on his debut. If the team expected any very different outcome from the first Test this time, they were probably the only people in the world who did.