Radio Days

This weekend my wireless (I do like the old fashioned words) worked overtime, as I lay under the sheets at 5 o’clock in the morning desperate for news from India.

It brought back happy memories of my father waking me to creep downstairs in the freezing winter of 1947 to listen to the commentary from Wally Hammond’s tour to Australia. A quick poke at the dying embers brought the fire back to life and a warm glow was augmented by the eiderdown wrapped round me.

Just like this latest match the England team were ill prepared after a World war, and an intermittent start to the cricket season and it showed as day after day we were hammered and I retreated to bed with my tail between my legs, all optimism crushed.

This time it was much better for, despite the chaotic preparations, England competed well over most of the five days.

It was surprising therefore to pick up the papers today and find so much criticism of the team and certain individual’s performances. The decision to return to India was a courageous one and was contrary to the advice given by such luminaries as Lord Maclauran,Geoff Boycott and our own Dominic Cork.

What a good decision it turned out to be; and how important for the future of the game and five day test matches in particular. In the face of all the evidence about the decline in interest in this long form of cricket I am still convinced that it is the very lifeblood of the game, and without it the whole game would wither into a sideshow.

A conclusion that would suit the BBC admirably by the look and content of the appalling Sports personality of the year on Sunday night. Held in a massive aircraft hanger the whole programme was tailored to look like yet another reality show full of cheap gimmicks, and dreadful dresses and costumes. The sight of poor Rebecca Adlington tottering down a long ramp on six inch stiletto heels was bad enough only to be followed by some hapless Olympian playing the saxophone. All it lacked was Bruce Forsyth and Simon Callow to liven things up!

 At this point I fled the room and retreated to the dining room with instructions that I should be recalled to wallow in the misery that is Wallender.

Who is responsible for such ridiculous rubbish? No wonder the corporation cannot summon up the balls to even bid for the rights to cricket. They are sinking rapidly into an abyss which after their excellent coverage of the Olympics is a national disgrace.

Now I am in a belligerent mood don’t even mention the Saints who are producing the most frustrating season I can ever recall. After only a few minutes of play last Saturday my much loved radio nearly flew through the window as we lost three quick goals.

I was only stopped by the thought that I would not be able to listen to England winning the Test match!

By Big Bri Quantrill