Basher Hassan © Siddhartha Vaidyanathan

The spirit of Garry Sobers lingers on at Trent Bridge but he has someone to thank for his stint at Nottinghamshire.

It was in 1968 that Basher Hassan, a talented batsman from Kenya, had qualified to play for Notts, only to hear that he would have to make way for Sobers. Born in Nairobi, Basher impressed members of an England touring team in 1963. After monitoring his progress for two years, members of Notts CC decided to sign him as an overseas player but told him to first qualify, after playing in the leagues.

"Garry was grateful to me when I had to pull out of county cricket," he Basher recalled. "He never forgot that and we became good friends. Later I started managing his business affairs and turned into his agent."

How was it playing in the same team as Garry? "There were times when he played brilliantly without sleeping the previous night. He used to have six bats in the dressing room. When he went out to resume his innings after a break he would just pick any of them and go out to bat. They all weighed the same."

His 22-year stint with Notts, when he amassed in excess of 14,000 runs, ended in 1985. He vividly recalls his final day of first-class cricket. "They asked me to go on to the field as substitute during the Ashes Test match here in 1985. Bernard Thomas, the England team physio urged me to announce my retirement saying, 'Basher, this is the moment. I'll tell the press.' So when we came back to the pavilion I got a standing ovation. That was it."

	Ashley Giles doesn't get the irony © Getty Images

You know it's time somebody presented Ashley Giles with a dictionary when he stomps around the media centre demanding to know meanings of words like temerity and irony. The sequence of events was roughly in this order: Giles, in an interview during this Test, talks about Tendulkar's declining powers, Tendulkar compiles 91 before being wrongly adjudged lbw, David Hopps, a cricket writer with the Guardian newspaper, writes a piece on Tendulkar-mania, and slips in a line that reads, " … Ashley Giles, who had the temerity at the weekend to remark that Tendulkar's batting prowess had waned a little ...."

Giles obviously didn't get the irony. In fact, when Hopps tried to explain the context, he shot back: "What is irony?” His main contention was "temerity", which he felt was too extreme a word. A serious argument soon turned ugly: Giles demanded an explanation, Hopps told him to stop being "paranoid", delightful verbals bounced off the walls before Hopps thought it best to take a walk around the ground to cool off.

Two bits of background information are vital, the first more so than the second. Hopps coined the term "wheelie bin"; he also ghosted Giles's column during the 2005 Ashes series. But Giles' inability to get the humour, his refusal to understand where Hopps was coming from, had several members of the press corps cracking up.

**

	Tim Robinson, the former England opener, looks happy with his new profession, that of an umpire at the first-class level © Siddhartha Vaidyanathan

It’s been an eventful few weeks for umpires during this series. At Lord’s they were too busy sending batsmen back; at Trent Bridge they’ve generously allowed batsmen some leeway until today, when they reverted to type. Former England opener Tim Robinson, who’s currently a first-class umpire, can’t get enough of the action.

Robinson’s debut was in the Bombay Test of 1984-85, a match remembered as much for Laxman Sivaramakrishnan’s googlies as the contentious umpiring decisions. In fact Robinson’s dismissal in the second innings, lbw to Kapil Dev, was one of the talking points of the match. He recalls being angry at the time but empathises with the umpire now that he's one himself.

Just a little while before this diary landed up on Robinson's lap, umpire Simon Taufel has sent back Sachin Tendulkar and Sourav Ganguly, both to questionable decisions. Robinson, who’s aspiring to be included in the ICC panel, twitches when asked about them. Here he is working his way onto the Elite Panel, and here are these spectators cursing the umpires out in the middle.

Does he think he can cope with the pressures? “The advantage I have is that I was an opener who spent a lot of time in the middle as a batsman,” he says. “I didn’t want to smash it to all parts and it was more a case of occupying the crease for long periods. I had the gift of being able to concentrate for long periods of time. Obviously as an umpire that is a similar sort of requirement.”

And spend time in the middle, he well could. Indian viewers will remember Robinson’s beaver-like 160 at Delhi, an innings spanning eight-and-a-half-hours that set the stage for England’s series-levelling win. His 74 at Madras (a mini-epic which consumed close to four hours) and 96 at Calcutta (a painstaking six-hour effort) paved the way for a series triumph, one which no England side has managed since.

“In the first Test, Siva was simply unplayable,” he recalls. “I’d never seen anything like that. We couldn’t read him at all and it needed some hard work at the nets. More than anything it was confidence. In the second Test I got the better for him but it was a great challenge. I didn’t know we were the last English side to win there! We must have been a good side then.”

Which Indian player does he remember most from that series? “Oh surely Azza,” he says with a smile, “he got those three hundreds on the trot and he was so, so wristy.” Just as he utters those words, VVS Laxman, another wristy master who is often compared to Azhar, whips one past midwicket for four. “Just like that.”

	Mike Hutton, who is a SKY Sports cameraman, watches the game from 200 feet above ground level © Siddhartha Vaiyanathan

Mike Hutton comes to the cricket every day but ends up sitting alone. He’s only a “moderate” cricket fan, whose “main sport” is tennis, but he has a job to do and that requires him to come to cricket grounds. He needs to cover himself more than the others – today he was clothed in four layers of shirts and three layers of trousers – to combat the weather.

Hutton, who is a SKY Sports cameraman, watches the game from 200 feet above ground level, capturing the moments of a Test for television. It’s a view that’s used to show fielding positions and close run-out calls. Hutton can also view all the replays the other cameras have captured at a click of a button.

Hutton, 55, has been doing the job for a number of years now but he continues to enjoy every moment of it. “It’s the best seat in the house because I feel very much part of the action.” Any disadvantages? “It’s a bit cold up there, and you’re very much alone.”

Trent Bridge is one of his favourite grounds. “It’s a great view out there - Nottingham is beautiful with the hills, river Trent and the airport,” he says cheerily looking skywards. The ground authorities at Lord’s don’t allow cranes, which means Hutton hasn’t had an aerial view there, but thinks it might be an experience to cherish.

The lunch break is nearing its end and Hutton, almost like a mountaineer, sets off on his long climb once again.

	David's gamble at the toss paid off © Getty Images

It's 17 years since Graham Gooch tortured India with the 333 at Lord's. It's also 17 years since Mohammad Azharuddin stuck England in at Lord's in what went down as a shocker. Gooch, though, is more sympathetic: "The toss is always difficult. You had a situation today in Trent Bridge where either captain might have thought that I am happy to lose the toss and let the other guy make the decision. It was difficult to know what to do. Normally, you bat first at Lord’s because the wicket is at its slowest on the first day.

"The ball will swing around in the first session of any Test match. It was a brave decision by Azharuddin to bowl first – not one which was met with absolute popularity from coach Bishan Bedi. He told me that he agreed with Azharuddin at the nets that he was going to bat first. But obviously, he changed his mind on the walk across the ground to the pavilion.

The captain has to make his own decision. The thing about being captain is that you get to call the show; get to do things you want to. At the end of the day, you have to go with your gut. It is about instinct. Sometimes there are a lot of good cases for doing things. You have to do what you’re happy with."

Luckily for Dravid history chose not to repeat itself. He won the toss, fielded first and, unlike Azhar, ended up smiling at the end of the day.

**

India’s media manager, Rocky Rufus, isn’t going to win any popularity contest in the near future. Today he was in the eye of the storm during VVS Laxman’s press conference, by the end of which he was at the receiving end of a severe hollering. The facts were this: the entire media contingent were quite bemused at the sight of Laxman at the press conference, they asked six or seven questions before one Indian journalist asked a question in Hindi.

At that point a number of English scribes walked up, picked up their dictaphones and left the room. Rufus didn’t seem to have any problems with that and even went to the extent of cutting short the press conference at that point. All hell broke loose then but who’s fault is all this? English journalists’, for walking off? Rufus’s for not knowing his job? Or the Indian board’s, for not appointing the right man?

**

	Craig Smith, the Nottinghamshire physio © Siddhartha Vaidyanathan

Craig Smith, the former South African physio, is at Trent Bridge. Currently working with Nottinghamshire, Smith remembers his 11-year stint with South Africa but also narrates the way it all ended: "I got sacked as physio the same day that Hansie Cronje died [on June 1, 2002]. I got a call and was told that both me and Graham Ford were not needed anymore. An hour later I heard of Cronje's death. It was really hard but one needed to move on."

Smith then came over to England and enjoyed a short stay at Lancashire before moving over to Notts. "I had a chat with Tim Robinson, the former England opener, and he helped me move here." The last four years at Notts have been fruitful for Smith, the highpoint being the County Championship medal in 2005.

He has big hopes for Ryan Sidebottom, who moved from Yorkshire to Nottinghamshire four summers ago. "I think Ryan's actually found it easier on his comeback because he knows exactly what to do now. He knows his areas well and he'll always bowl well irrespective of the conditions."

He also worked with Kevin Pietersen for a year - Smith's first year at Notts was KP's last. Surprisingly he didn't know Pietersen in South Africa but adds: "England's gain. What else can I say?"

	Christian Dawson, Monty's university lecturer © Siddartha Vaidyanathan

You can imagine Monty Panesar in a class, diligent and attentive, grasping concepts eagerly and pumping his fists when he cracked a problem. At the IT department of the University of Loughborough Christian Dawson, a senior lecturer, remembers Monty from the batch of 2005 and terms him "quiet, yet hardworking".

It's tough locating Dawson and one needs to weave through the labyrinthine university corridors. He is a bit confused about the spelling, though he remembers him well, and struggles initially to find his records on the database. "Yeah, here he is," he says, “he's done pretty well for himself, hasn't he?"

Dawson taught Monty Software Project Management in his final year. He remembers a few students talking of his cricketing talent and beamed when he heard he was in the England squad that toured India last year. "On our open days we always tell our students that Monty was a student here. We promote sports in a huge way. I'm quite happy to give students extensions to go and play for their counties and clubs."

Monty first visited the National Cricket Centre while studying at the university. "He popped in here when he was studying and we were very impressed with what we saw," says Guy Jackson, the Operations Manager of the academy. "He had played Under-19 cricket earlier but training here really fast-tracked his progress. He was lucky he went to university here, the academy here was just next door.”

A picture of Monty adorns the walls of the Sports Centre and he's part of an illustrious list of Loughborough alumni. There's Paula Radcliffe, the long-distance runner who’s currently the world record holder for the women’s marathon, there’s Sebastian Coe, the former Olympic gold medallist in the 1500 metre category, there’s Clive Woodward, England's rugby World Cup winning coach, and there’s Donna Kellogg, the former national Badminton champion.

"If you look at the annual championships conducted by the British University Sports Association (BUSA), an event where more than 100 universities take part, Loughborough are usually the runaway winners. Our women have claimed the overall championship for the last 28 years running while our men have managed it for 26 years on the trot. Excellence in sports draws a number of sportsmen to our university. We have lots of sports scholarships too."
Coming from Loughborough, Monty has a big legacy to live up to. But he’s done pretty well so far, hasn’t he?

	During rain intervals spectators try to get some sort of cover, players head back into the dressing-room, and at the press-box spend the time calculating the umpteen possibilities that rain and light offer to cricket © Getty Images

Sitting and watching the gentle pitter-patter today resulted in some interesting conversations in the press box. The first question on everyone's minds was when will that big black cloud arrive? Rain was expected, around half past one said the morning forecasts, but there was always a big 'If' that kept slipping into all discussions. The sun didn't peep out even once and it was just a matter of time before the heavens opened up. India might have been reminded of the fourth day of the Lahore Test, in January 2006, when a consistently murky day produced a Sehwag-inspired batting fiesta.

"If it rains heavily, it may not be that good for India," said a few, "because the skies may clear up and play would surely get underway." We knew by now how good the drainage system at Lord's was; even a thunderstorm might not have mattered. Also, a bit of rain could leave the conditions extremely tough for batting, with the retained atmospheric moisture helping the swing bowlers.

It meant that India's best chance was to get a consistently cloudy day with the light dimming. It would also help if there was some mild drizzle around so that the umpires wouldn't think of re-starting play. At 3:30 in the afternoon all those eventualities combined in a perfect union. For close to four hours hardly anything changed: the drizzle occasionally got heavier, the light sometimes got a bit brighter but all the elements held on together, in a celestial balance, to allow no further play.

Nobody should think of staging Test matches in indoor stadiums. It takes away the umpteen possibilities that the weather offers. Rain and light offer possibilities, they can change the course of a game by creating completely new conditions. Watching two English spinners in tandem under leaden skies, with one wicket to get and a field of vultures surrounding the batsman, has a wonderful feel to it.

	Anyone for a soap holder? © Siddhartha Vaidyanathan

“It’s the only injury in cricket which brings tears to your eyes,” says former England batsman David Lloyd, remembering a horrific Perth Test 33 years ago when a good-length ball from Jeff Thomson clattered into his “unmentionables”. Lloyd, who later went on to coach England before settling into a commentary job, remembers the day vividly, when fielders chuckled despite him writhing in pain. “Even now I lose my voice every December”.

Opening the batting on a “lightning” quick WACA pitch, Lloyd had moved on to 17 in the second innings when the moment arrived. Thomson, an unknown commodity before the series but a terror once it got underway, “nipped one back” and found a most delicate target. “The box that I was using at that time was totally inadequate for the job at the time and it actually split,” Lloyd recalled wide-eyed. “All the contents of the inside of the box (let’s put it that way) found their way through and the box itself snapped up. So everything that should have been inside the box were on the outside and the box had to be cut away before I could get back on the field. Thomson was obviously unsympathetic, waiting at the top of his run, but I couldn’t continue. I was ushered off and only returned the next day.”

But have the scars healed? How does he react when he sees modern batsmen getting struck? “I think the current lot are fortunate to not be facing Jeff Thomson. If he hits you it can be serious trouble. The thing about today’s box is that it’s far more substantial than it was when we played. The one we used could be used as a soap holder. The water will drain out. The ball hit me and stopped dead – it wasn’t a glancing blow where it deflects to third man and you get a leg bye. This was full on and dropped straight in the feet.”

Lloyd wrote letters to his mother during that series, one where England went down 4-1 after being dismantled by Lillee and Thomson. “I remember writing a letter saying, ‘I got a half-volley today for the first time in three months and have no clue what to do with it. All the rest have been bouncers’. They were a far better team than us – beat us 4-1. And a formidable West Indies followed us and got beaten 5-1. They were a good side Australia at that time.”

	A display of ruthless straight-driving as had never been seen before © Siddhartha Vaidyanathan

It’s the highest individual score at Lord’s, was compiled against India in 1990, and a wagon wheel of the innings has been fittingly illustrated on the tickets for this match. Graham Gooch’s 333 was made with the help of a three-pound Stuart Surridge Grand Prix Turbo and the triangular formations from either side of the pitch show the extent of driving during the knock. One hundred and seven singles, 15 twos, 2 threes, 43 fours and 3 sixes. Seven years later India suffered at the hands of Sanath Jayasuriya (340 in Colombo) but rarely have they experienced such ruthless straight-driving. The lines perpendicular to the pitch remind one of the savage cuts and pulls; in fact one of the strokes one remembers is the swat to the short ball, picking it up from outside off and pulling it down the ground to the straight fence.

**

Harold “Dickie” Bird is at the ground and can’t get enough of attention. “My final Test was on this ground, you know, back in ‘96” he tells people, “and that left-hander of yours got quite a lovely century. Hope he does something similar today.” A few moments later, the left-hander misses a beauty of an indipper and loses his off stump. Was it an emotional end for him at Lord’s? “Tears you know, walking down those steps for the last time. T’was tough.” Did he see any of yesterday’s action? His take on the Kevin Pietersen walk-back? “I think the umpires should have had a discussion before giving him out. You can reverse a decision at any point but it just made the whole thing a bit complicated.”

**

Just after India’s batsmen had been shot down by the young English attack, a couple of archers practised with their bows and arrows at either end of the ground. Lord’s will stage the archery event during the 2012 London Olympics and this was more a PR exercise for that. Great Britain are to face India and China in a triangular competition next month, in what will be the first archery tournament at Lord’s, and this was just an appetiser for bigger things to come.

**

Former captains at the media centre XI: 1 Graham Gooch, 2 Sunil Gavaskar, 3 Mike Atherton, 4 Ian Chappell, 5 David Gower, 6 Mike Gatting, 7 Nasser Hussain, 8 Mike Brearley, 9 Ian Botham, 10 Richie Benaud, 11 Ravi Shastri.

	Tennis great Boris Becker watched golf at the Lord's media centre © Siddhartha Vaidyanathan

Walk up around lunch time and guess who is at the media centre? Boris ‘Boom boom’ Becker sitting behind the press box and watching golf (The Open) while helping himself to some lunch. “It’s my first time at a cricket match,” he announces as a large media gaggle approach him gingerly. “I’ve seen bits on TV but never at a ground.” It’s the golf, though, that keeps Becker interested as he discusses various possibilities with his partner. He signs a few autographs, consents to a few photos being taken but soon decides he’s had enough and returns to concentrating on his golf. When India last won at Lord’s, the only time they’ve triumphed here, Becker was a 19-year-old sensation making waves on the lawns of Wimbledon. Now he’s at his first cricket match. Surely India can’t lose now. **

Watching the rain can get quite gloomy, especially when it’s pelting down like it was this morning, so this diary decided to take a walk. Waiting for the lift is Ashley Giles, “slimmer and trying to get back to full fitness”. He sure looks it, all decked up in his black suit and dressed for a television show he’s supposed to be part of. “Basically saying the usual” he grins. India mainly remembers Giles for the nasty act on a December day in in 2001. “Has Tendulkar ever been stumped after that?” he asks referring to the dismissal at Bangalore, the only time Tendulkar was stumped in his Test career. When reassured he shoots back: “He has to retire soon for me to keep that record!”

**

Andrew Turner has never seen an international cricket match before. “I was lucky Mikey gave me a pass for today”. Turner is a builder and has been involved in the construction of Michael Holding’s house in Cambridge. To prove his association with Holding, just in case there was any doubt, he ferrets out his mobile phone and sorts through all his voice messages to find the clincher. “Hi Andrew, I found a screwdriver in my bedroom,” said a baritone voice that we’re accustomed to hearing on TV.

	The big boys sit in the Pavilion End © Getty Images

You feel it the moment you enter the underground, in the conversations among passengers, at the St John’s Wood station. Greybeards in MCC blazers and egg-and-bacon coloured ties discuss match possibilities, one repeats Tendulkar’s name almost every sentence. There’s a small whiteboard at the exit of the station that has a handwritten notice about ‘events at Lord’s’. Wellingdon Road, connecting the station to the ground, is choc-a-bloc: there are touts, there are those seeking tickets and there are those walking straight past.

Gray-Nicolls are using the Lord’s Test as a marketing opportunity, with one of their men actually shaping a bat outside their stall. A large audience watches and some are quite bemused to see a bat actually being made. One look around and there’s beer being served already. Who drinks before the toss?

The atmosphere is distinct from any in the world. Silence thrills. No conches, no banners, no flags. There’s nothing loud about the ground, all calm and sacrosanct. The bowler mostly runs-up in silence, the sound of bat on ball is heard distinctly. Claps begin only later. The conditions are ideal for butterflies to breed in the stomach.

The big boys - former players, politicians and other big-wigs - sit in the Pavilion end. You’re allowed in the Pavilion only if you have a jacket and a tie, we’re told. There’s a large Asian contingent at the Nursery side which is largely silent when India’s bowlers are getting hammered around. Lord Tebbitt, who suggested in the '80s that the true loyalties of a man can be gauged by the team he supported, would have smiled.

Strauss understands: “I'd like to think the British people would support the English team,” he said, “but I understand there's a lot of heritage among the English Asians, and that goes back a long way. So, they are free to make their own choices. No problems from our point of view, hopefully we can drag them round to our point of view at some point.”

Ramesh Powar spends the day practising at the Nursery Ground. Once he finishes, he's mobbed for autographs. Where can a man of his size hide? Chandu Borde arrives for the press conference at the end of the day. "Are you happy at the end of the day?" Borde answers with a big smile on his face: "Of course, very happy." Optimists of the world unite.

	Harris Gardens © Siddhartha Vaidyanathan

At the pavilion end at Lord's, close to the Museum and adjacent to a shop selling memorabilia, are the Harris Gardens. Named after Lord Harris, the Governer of the Bombay Presidency from 1890 to 1895, it resembles a site which has hosted a party last night, with tables and chairs overturned and other furniture lying around. But back in 1875, it was the arena to standardise the rules of lawn tennis. The dimensions of the garden, we are told, resemble those of the modern tennis court.

Opposite the garden is a tennis club, one of the 50-odd in the world where they still play real tennis. Real tennis is the original racquet sport. Also called jeu de paume in France, it's from which the modern game of tennis descended. It appears to be a mixture of tennis and squash. Today there are only about 50 real-tennis courts around the world – 27 in England, 13 in America, 6 in Australia, 4 in France and 3 in Ireland and the current world champion, Robert Fahey, is from Tasmania.

Lawn tennis became increasingly popular in the 1870s. In 1877, when the All England Croquet Club was in need of a new roller to maintain its lawns, a championship tennis tournament was proposed as an ideal way to raise the money. Major Walter Wingfield wrote the first rule-book in 1873. However, his court was in the shape of an hourglass and it was RA Fitzgerald, the secretary of the Marylebone Cricket Club (MCC), who proposed a standardisation of the rules. It was then that the MCC decided to use the dimensions of the Harris Gardens for the measurements of the courts.

	A view of Old Street at night © Cricinfo

Walking through central London on a Sunday evening is quite eerie. The streets are so deserted that you hope it's not an evacuation. Liverpool Street, Highbury Islington, Kings Cross – names you'd associated with a bustling metropolis – are all quite funereal.

We're told about Old Street being a busy one; we land up there and find three gents walking as aimlessly as us. We remember it's Sunday, suddenly we realise it's Brazil v Argentina in the Copa America final, a game that's supposed to start in a little while. A few frantic enquiries later we settled on Offside, a sports bar just round the corner. The term "just round the corner" can take anything from 10 seconds to an hour. We managed it in ten.

Brazil leading 1-0. The yellow shirts are chatting loudly; the blues and whites are chatting louder. Latin accents bounce around the walls – yellows are happy, blues and whites are angry. Brazil 2-0. Yellows go bananas; blues and whites are slightly shocked, slightly angry, slightly sad before going bananas, angrily. Too much commotion. Brazil 3-0. Laughter from the yellows, a most evil laughter when one is sure of victory; laughter from blues and whites, the sort where one has given up all hope. It all ends in laughter. Who said football was a violent game?

	'Graham Gooch is a nice man. Gosh, what a let down' © Kieran Galvin

Graham Gooch was standing at ease, bag in hand, and smiling. Surely that's not Gooch (or as my grandfather used to say, Goch). There was a celebratory piece on Gooch recently, written by Patrick Kidd, a staff writer with The Times, where he spoke about Gooch's bottom: "The backside thrust out towards square leg". And that's the Gooch we remember: ram-rod straight stance, high bully-like back lift, Zapata moustache, that steely determination in the eyes and the statuesque seriousness.

Against India he turned plunderer, rudely ravaging 333 at Lord's and sweeping 115 at the Wankhede in a World Cup semi-final. He was the perennial villain but unlike the movies the bad guy always won. In 1990, on India's tour to England, I'd agreed on a pact with granddad to study till Gooch was at the crease and only then listen to the cricket on radio. By the end of the series, when he amassed three hundreds and two fifties, I was doing well at school. That didn't stop me cursing both my granddad and his dear 'Goch', though.

How the mighty have fallen. He's courteous, jovial and witty, a fine talker and a good analyst. As he offers a handshake, you hesitate fearing for your fingers but all you get is a normal, firm grasp. He's ready to answer a variety of questions and talks in specifics. He's a nice man. Gosh, what a let down.

Ireland v West Indies, Quad series, Clontarf, July 14, 2007

	A decent crowd defied the rain © Will Luke

4pm - Get off my grass
When me and my brother were growing up (our mother would dispute my use of the past tense if she reads this), a neighbour several doors away who owned a large garden used to roar "get off my grass" whenever we'd walk over it on our way to and from school. He was known henceforth as Mr Get Off Man by us, our parents, and all our other neighbours. And he must surely have been here today, disguised as a lady in her forties, who was screaming at everyone and anyone who dared step across the boundary rope. All this is perfectly understandable, I suppose, but it's nevertheless a ridiculous state of affairs that a young boy of six or seven can't step inside the rope by a foot, cheering his heart out, to stop the ball and throw it back to one of his West Indian heroes. Bah humbug.

Quote of the day (suitable for print)
"My janitor has a better sweep than you," from a very thirsty member of the crowd to Niall O'Brien.

2.40pm
It's nearly quarter to three and the rain has relented for the past two hours. It's even warm out there, but West Indies' bowlers haven't been happy with the run-ups, prompting the farcical sight of the groundsman using a leaf blower (surely one of the world's more pointless inventions) to dry the area where their front foot takes off from. All the while, the now beery crowd have been slow-clapping the farce - but shortly before yet another inspection, there was at least one little bit of excitement for the crowd. Phil Simmons, Ireland's West Indian coach, and a couple of his players started throwing a "whistling missile" to eachother, from one end of the ground to the other. It was captivating viewing, at least for your correspondent and, with each dropped catch, the crowd roared with mock delight.

But what a farce it's been. The crowd has swelled in excess of 1000 - I'll try to find out exactly how many later - and still the bowlers moan. Rumours (inevitably) circulating around the ground are that West Indies don't even want to play, a sentiment I refuse to believe. Sure enough, five minutes ago, the umpires finally received the all clear from the bowlers and play will begin at 3pm.

12.20pm
Clontarf. as I've mentioned before, is a beautiful ground. But it really comes to life when the sun breaks free and the crowds fill up. 500 tickets were pre-sold for today's game between Ireland and West Indies, and another 1000 are expected - maybe more if the weather holds. White, plastic chairs are appearing from nowhere and breeding fast; with a privet-hedge-backdrop almost entirely around the ground, it looks quite a sight.

And what a mixture in the crowd. West Indians, South Africans - and (need you ask) a sizeable contingent of excitable Indians. Ever the opportunists, and armed with miniature digital cameras, they have descended on the players' tents for impromptu photos. Some of the players obliged, wearing Colgate-white smiles; others were less accommodating (and understandably so) but, all in all, the atmosphere is genial and happy. It's a real family day out and we're just praying the weather can hold to allow for a contest out in the middle. It's no less than Clontarf and its army of volunteers deserve. And, as I write, up go the umbrellas and down comes the rain. And it's teeming. Well, it was short and sweet.

	A section of the Chelmsford crowd © Siddhartha Vaidyanathan

Look around county grounds and you’re likely to see middle-aged, old and wary spectators who are thoroughly immersed in the cricket. They enjoy a drink or five, talk about the “good old days” and inject a quaint charm in what has largely become a young man’s sport. It’s great to see these supporters (fans is just too crude a word for such sophistication) enjoy a day at the cricket, reading, chatting, watching, gently clapping. No hooting, no jeering and no mobbing of players. It a fine contrast – the younger lot chanting slogans and waving flags, the older generation quietly enjoying their cricket.

The setting adds to the charm – green hills, church spires, tree-lined boundaries – and produced a most soothing experience. “It’s a sedate, casual and contemplative experience,” wrote Mike Marqusee, the American historian settled in England. “The players acquire a human dimension absent from the gladiatorial international arenas. The weather, as always in England, sets the tone, and dictates the style — from blankets and flasks of hot tea to sun-hats and chilled lagers. And is there another sporting event regularly graced by second-hand bookstalls?”

**

Newspaper shocker for the day

The newspaper that’s circulated in the Underground is great to lifts spirits. You’re on your way to work, probably expecting a hard day, and you read about a man who spends 250 pounds to buy a new iphone and immediately places it in his blender to ask the question that he always does: “Will it blend”. At the end of his experiment he loudly proclaims the result: “Yes it will”. It’s apparently an iPhone torture test. I can’t wait to read more such inspiring tales in tomorrow’s edition.

	Joe Hussain at the Illford Cricket School © Siddhartha Vaidyanathan

Tucked away in a quiet corner of Essex, about half an hour from Chelmsford, is the Illford Cricket School, a nursery with a rich tradition. Located in an inconspicuous corner behind the Harvesters Pub at Gants Hill, it’s a coaching centre that’s produced five international cricketers – Graham Gooch, John Lever, James Foster, Nasser Hussain and Ravi Bopara – and close to 40 who’ve gone on to play the game at the first-class level.

In charge of the school is Joe (Jawad) Hussain, Nasser’s father, who welcomes you in an accent that’s a delightful mix of Chennai and Illford. “I’ll tell you what the problem is,” he says with a crisp Tamil tongue before quickly changing tack, “this place is almost hidden innit?” Joe was born in Madras (not Chennai but Madras, he insists) and managed a solitary Ranji Trophy game for Tamil Nadu. “Sardesai passed away man,” he says thoughtfully. “What a batsman. I’ll never forget the hundred he made for Mafatlal against my club, MCC.”

Joe loves to talk. Mention “Asian cricketers” and his eyes twinkle with excitement. “Just wait for five years and half the English team will be players of Asian origin,” he states emphatically. “There’s so much talent you know but the problem with Asian cricketers is that they’re very talented but not able to take their game to the next level. Cricketers like Owais Shah, Kabir Ali and Vikram Solanki should have made it long back. Take a chap like Collingwood, compare him to Owais Shah – Shah is way more talented, miles ahead but Collingwood through sheer hard work has made it. So many Asian boys get country contracts for one-two years and then disappear. Something happens.”

He provides a classic example of an Asian cricketer who got a chance to make his debut against Australia a few years ago. “You should have seen the way he came for the match. In a big car with four chamchas and was speaking on two mobile phones. He was acting as if he’s the world’s best player. The Aussies saw that and sledged the hell out of him. He was finished. You need education, man. Most Asian cricketers who have done well here have had a good mix of cricket and education. Otherwise you think you’re better than you actually are. You need grounding.”

Joe came to England first in 1963 and admits the first 15 years were spent in dilemma, with regard to which team to support. Initially it was always India, even when they were playing England, but things gradually began to change. In fact it was only when he found himself supporting England that he realised he was being accepted by his adopted country. “It takes time to feel part of another country and nowadays it’s always England. When India are playing someone else, though, it’s always India.”

Joe can relate to men of his generation having the dilemma but can’t understand how some members of the younger generation feel similarly. “You go through the junior levels - Under-11, U-15, U-19 etc and move towards playing for England … still you support your country of origin. I find it strange. Why do you want to play for England then?”

“And one question I ask all these kids: has anyone with origins in India and Pakistan gone there and played for that country? No. They won’t even consider the thought. The problem is not with the children, it’s with the parents and grandparents – they don’t want their children to mingle outside their community, they don’t want them to speak in English. They want to be as Indian as they can. This country can give so much only … you need to give something to it as well.”

	Ronnie Irani on the phone © Siddhartha Vaidyanathan

Ronnie Irani, the recently retired Essex captain, talking loudly on his mobile and after a point is not able to decide whether to get into his car or just stay out. At one point he opens the car door, begins to get in, head still out, mobile at his right ear, hollering … you get the picture.

Meanwhile Alastair Cook, England’s opening batsman, is checking out a bagful of golf clubs. Sleek, brand new ones but there’s just one problem: “They’re all right-handed.”

Danish Kaneria lurks outside the ground aimlessly, suddenly surprised when someone stops him to say hello: “Marwadoge yaar (you’ll kill me, man).

Irish cricket really is a family affair. I had a long chat with a local, Jim Gallagher, this afternoon at the friendly, picturesque ground of Clontarf, who was enjoying several pints of Magners. He pointed out Ed Joyce's father, and several other parents of current and former cricketers fluttering around the boundary edge. Today's third umpire - whose name eludes me - was also milling around sharing jokes and tales with everyone. The atmosphere is more like a club match than an international - and the press conferences are held on the steps by the car park, with the burger-and-chips van's engine still whirring. All very Heath Robinson, as my Dad would've said, relaxed and good fun.

Today's match was attended by three journalists, Chris Gayle, and 20 autograph hunters. It's a frenetic two minutes of sound bites and quite clearly the future.

Clontarf really is a beautiful ground - but I very nearly missed the delayed start due to my taxi driver not understanding my ridiculous estuary English. "Clontarf cricket club please," was my humble request, but he simply couldn't decipher where I wanted to go. Before reaching for my pen and paper, he cried "ClonTARF!", slapping his hand on the steering wheel in a euphoric gesture of victory. We were on our way.

But back to Mr Gallagher. Towards the end of the day, Imran Khan, West Indies' media manager, kindly asked whether I would like to speak to Fidel Edwards. I agreed, and grabbed a pen and paper to write a few notes and come up with a unique question which no one had ever asked him. Ever. Bereft of inspiration, I asked Jim and his friends. It was a dreadful mistake.

"Ask him whether he prefers Clontarf or Stormont!" came one, which was met with "oohs" and jeers and even a "that's brilliant!" from the others. "Does he know that West Indies have played four times the number of one-dayers at Clontarf than Ireland? Ask him that" was the second request (an interesting point, though). And the third? "How does he rate the West Indies women's side?"

Fortunately for Fidel, and probably for me too, he was unavailable.

Much of the first 94 overs we witnessed on Wednesday were humdrum. But before Netherlands imploded, and Kevin O'Brien came to the fore, the real drama was to be seen outside the boundary.

The day began under clear blue skies, in a sea-blue media tent, in which we discovered our umbilical cord - the internet - had been cut off. It somehow worked its way back into life once we'd discovered the best (and most awkward) position to sit with our laptops, but worse (or better, depending on your point of view) was to happen.

Towards the end of Ireland's innings, the scoreboard packed up. Gone. Finished. Apparently a fuse had blown, which sounds easily replaceable. But in spite of the engineer's best efforts - which included receiving detailed maps of the fuse box being emailed to him - the board shut up shop for the day. Much arm-waving was seen from the referee's box where Chris Broad, sat directly opposite it, was officiating, but not even he could fix it.

The lack of a scorecard prompted the announcer to reveal the scores every two or three overs over the impressively ear-shattering PA system, seemingly located inside my eardrum - a situation which caused much hilarity. With Netherlands fielding the indecipherable Eric Szwarczynski and the tongue-twisting Bas Zuiderent, there were frequent amusing pauses. "The incoming batsman is...Bas......Zweedurran...t". Well, at least he got their first names right. Also spotted around the boundary was West Indies' coach, David Moore, who, camoflaged in civvies, gave a knowing nod, no doubt keeping a close eye on Ireland's progress ahead of their clash on Saturday.

West Indies really are taking these games seriously, which is just what the tournament needs.

	'I alighted at King’s Cross, platform 1 and not 9 ¾ as Harry Potter would have, and am handed a free copy of the local newspaper' © Cricinfo Ltd

George Mikes, the Hungarian born British author, wrote in How to be a Brit: "The trouble with tea is that originally it was quite a good drink. So a group of the most eminent British scientists put their heads together, and made complicated biological experiments to find a way of spoiling it. To the eternal glory of British science their labour bore fruit."

It's something I thought of soon after landing at Heathrow airport and headed to a snacks counter to gulp some tea. That particular offering wasn't as bad as Mikes made it out but again anything hot that tasted remotely like tea would have done the trick at the time. Close to ten
hours of grogginess needed treatment.

This is my third visit to this country, yet nothing seems to have changed about Heathrow. In 1990 I remember being overwhelmed with the abundance of information available - direction boards, announcements, pamphlets, help desks – and nothing’s changed. "In case you're lost please contact this number,"said a board towards the exit, exhibiting the digits in bright red. It
will be interesting to find out how many people actually get lost in this city?

Onto the Underground, that uber-organised transport system, where pre-recorded messages constantly hammer into you to "mind the gap" between the platform and the train. I can imagine the laughter a similar announcement would prompt in a local train in Mumbai, where one has far
more serious things to mind than that pesky gap. That minor irritation apart, though, it's a most joyous experience, passing by stations that one traded while playing Monopoly the board game. I alighted at King’s Cross, platform 1 and not 9 ¾ as Harry Potter would have, and am handed a free copy of the local newspaper.

I sift through it and learn that India's touring cricketers have had a "good work-out" against Sussex at Hove. England's one-day side are being pasted for playing an "anachronistic" brand of cricket but Lewis Hamilton and Jamie Murray are providing plenty of cheer. Another of Mikes’s sayings comes to mind: "Many Continentals think life is a game; the English think cricket is a game." The Indians, though, it’s often said, think cricket is the only game.

	Lone ranger: West Indies did have some support at Clontarf © Will Luke

If I had any doubts lingering that I was in Ireland (or that I have Irish blood by my maternal Grandmother), then they have all disappeared now. I had to take a short bus ride this morning and in doing so got chatting to the driver, who I approached cautiously, to ask for directions.

I'm a Londoner who uses buses every day and, via a plethora of warning signs, am advised not to to approach - let alone speak to - the man behind the wheel. It beggars belief what might happen if I did; London bus drivers are generally a depressive bunch who eye all passengers with immense caution. But Jim, my Irish bus driver for 10 minutes today, couldn't have been more welcoming.

In fact, he even gave me a little detour to show me some sights. He tried to, anyway - the road was blocked and we had to reverse. But what other country would this happen in? In the brief 10 minute journey, I spoke to him about cricket - "Ah, it'll never take in Ireland, will it? I like water polo m'self" - Guinness, Princess Diana and speed humps. He wasn't a cricket fan, however. At the ground in Clontarf - a picturesque little place with white-washed fences, every bit the small, local club - only a smattering turned up. True, it was a week day - and the weather threatened to tear down in true Irish style. So where were they? Has the effect of Ireland's stellar efforts in the World Cup amounted to nothing?

Perhaps, but perhaps not. When leaving the ground, a mother and her four boys, all no more than six or seven years old, approached me to get "Gally" and "Channerpor's" autographs. When I told them the match was finished, they were mortified. So disappointed was Connor, the youngest, that his mother chastened him for saying "Jaysus". Perhaps Chris Gally and Shivnarine Channerpor will oblige four young Irish fans on Thursday.

All that is good in a city (and much of it that is bad) can be discovered in the first hour after landing, via that mine of knowledge, the taxi driver. In my limited experience, they are an indigenous group more-or-less identical the world over: fiercely patriotic, but aware of a city's pitfalls. And you learn so much from them.

And so it was that Connor, my guide and driver for the morning, told me all about Dublin, and not a lot about the cricket. Unsurprisingly he was completely unaware that a Quadrangular series was about to take place in the city he was born and raised in, but was pleased and amazed that West Indies ("the Windies are comin'? Fantastic!") were in town. No advertisements, no flags or posters - not a thing was to be seen promoting the tournament. The chequered blue and black flags forlornly draped on lampposts and pot-plant holders were for a Celtic football contest.

Of course, this comes as no surprise but it's a familiar and faintly depressing trend that an international series might go completely unnoticed. We will have to see whether the Irish Cricket Union's decision to lower the ticket prices - excellent though it is - is sufficient to entice the locals to Clontarf tomorrow. I fear not.

Connor's interest in cricket stemmed from the World Cup. Sat in a dingy local - "I love it, but it's certainly not one for the tourists" - supping "the milk" (Guinness, apparently), he and his friends were busily talking about everything and nothing when one local, propping up the bar, began shouting at the TV. Within an hour, most of the pub were pumping their fists and cheering Ireland on (against Pakistan), oblivious of the rules but attracted to the green uniform on the pitch, and the throng of distinctly Irish-looking fans in the crowd.

But that, for him, was that, as far as his knowledge and interest of cricket went. If the weather will allow it, a strong performance from the hosts would do wonders for local interest and promoting the game to a wider Irish audience.