Frank Duckworth, a retired mathematical physicist cum arm-chair cricket fan © Siddhartha Vaidyanathan

Frank Duckworth was first introduced to cricket as an eight-year old in 1948, when the Australian Invincibles toured this country. It was then that he learnt that ‘Australia’ was a dirty word and Don Bradman, in particular, was someone you needed to get out. A Gloucestershire local, Duckworth has been an “arm-chair cricket fan” ever since.

Duckworth, one half of the Duckworth-Lewis calculation that’s used to revise targets, is all jolly. Surely can’t be so happy with the skies so clear and the sun shining bright? Doesn’t he want rain, so that his calculation can come into play? “Floodlight failure, my lad,” he chuckles. “There have been 15 cases of the method coming into play because of floodlight failure and three cases due to crowd riots. In fact there have been three matches in Derbyshire when sun has stopped play. They rarely get the sun out there but when it does come out, it causes some sort of reflection while it’s setting and affects the batsmen.”

Duckworth likes to call himself a “retired mathematical physicist”. The World Cup semi-final of 1992, when South Africa first needed 22 off one ball, prompted him to devise a new method. Duckworth explains the origins of the system but moves on to talking about a few matches.

“The D/L method was first used on January 1 1997, in a one-dayer between Zimbabwe and England at Harare. Zimbabwe scored 200 and it rained in the interval. Eight overs needed to be deducted. If we’d just used the average run-rate method, 168 would have been the target. But D/L said 185 off 42. Eng started very well and collapsed, falling short by seven runs. The press actually blamed us for England losing. I just said, ‘England have discovered a new method to lose’.”

He vividly recalls the South Africa-Sri Lanka clash in the 2003 World Cup, a game when South Africa tied without knowing what exactly was needed. “Shaun Pollock hadn’t educated his people properly. They should have known exactly what was needed. Sri Lanka’s captain [Sanath] Jayasuriya knew it, very well indeed. There was a wonderful cartoon the next day - two disgruntled supporters holding a hangman noose with effigies of Duckworth and Lewis. I was on a flight from Australia at that time and landed to all these messages.”

But the one match where he was extremely nervous was the World Cup final of 2003, when India, for a brief while, seemed to have found an escape route. “Before 2003 the rule had a limitation when it came to high-scoring matches. It was only because all grounds didn’t have computers to run the complex program. Australia made 359 and after 23 overs there was a threat of rain. And if D/L had come in India were just four runs behind the par score. Rain then and India could have had a most undeserved win. I was listening to it on radio and was extremely nervous. It prompted us to tinker with the method and request the ICC to ensure computers at all games.”

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Two spectators in Stand A (near the pavilion) argue about the merits of this ground. "You need to wait all day long for a beer," says one. "This ground should never be allowed to host a 50-over match. Maybe Twenty20 at the most." The other disagrees. "I've never sat at a ground with such a good view, so close to the action." Well ... at the ground for the cricket or for the beer? The elementary question. Answers on a postcard, please.