The passion is still alive in West Indies © AFP

It's been 54 days since I landed in Kingston, days spent in cricket grounds resembling a carnival setting, in hotels resembling home, in beaches resembling images on exotic postcards, and in departure lounges resembling anything between bus stations to seven-star hotels. As is always the case, sometimes I felt it was all happening too fast; sometimes I just wanted it to end then and there.

Visiting the West Indies fulfilled a lot of my childhood ambitions. As a 15-year-old night life usually involved staying awake late, tip-toeing onto the television room, muting the sound, and watching cricket from the Caribbean. The passion that was on show – the sight of people dancing in the stands, fans watching from trees, spectators constantly providing advice to the batsman – never ceased to fascinate.

The flair that accompanied the West Indian cricketers – Hooper's smoothest of smooth cover-drives, Lara's square cut hit on the jump, Ambrose's bouncers which batsmen only smelt – made the game a true spectacle. Then there was my grandfather, a die-hard West Indies fan, who somehow always insisted that my dear Azhar was not a patch on Lawrence Rowe when it came to style. The best part was he's never seen Rowe bat, but only heard and read about his exploits.

It's one thing to know that West Indians are passionate about cricket, but another to actually experience beach cricket, as I did in Barbados, and feel the enthusiasm. While playing in the gullies all I had done was to hit across the line. Sometimes I connected, mostly I got out and everyone laughed. So it came as a complete shock when I tried the same here, with the wicketkeeper firmly insisting that such a stroke "would get you nowhere". Cricketing technique is almost ingrained in the Caribbean psyche. While a street discussion in India might revolve more around statistics – something like "Laxman has scored just one second-innings fifty in the last 11 games, he should be dropped" – the argument here would almost surely veer to technique – "He managed a four off such a good outswinger, getting his head over the ball. He must always play."

It's a region with such a rich cricket tradition, that you never know when you may run into a legend. I would never have imagined that I would one day drive around Antigua with Richie Richardson, never thought I would actually get to spend an entire evening with Gordon Greenidge, never dreamt of opening the door to realise that Wes Hall, topless after his morning swim in the beach, had come visiting. One felt a complete absence of star culture and soon realised that, for most people here, the game is far bigger than any individual.

Amid all this, I was involved in a cricket series. I'm sure there were close to 100 press conferences, 50 immigration forms and several boarding passes. At the moment, it's all a blur. I remember key moments but have already started getting confused about which innings was played in which match. It's tough to pick out a favourite on-field moment but the final stages at Antigua, when the game gradually turned into a classic with a near capacity crowd feeling the tension, will remain an enduring memory.

Wolmer's Boys' School © Siddhartha Vaidyanathan

A few minutes away from Sabina Park is Wolmer's Boys’ School, founded way back in 1729 and rich in cricketing tradition. Several schools around the world have produced Test cricketers but none might be able to match Wolmer in the wicketkeeping department. Six Wolmer alumni have been West Indian Test wicketkeepers. Take that.

It’s given West Indies their first-ever Test wicketkeeper, Karl Nunes, their first centurion in England, Ivan Barrow, a captain, Gerry Alexander, a battler, Jackie Hendriks, a legend, Jeffrey Dujon, and a promising star, Carlton Baugh. That makes 417 catches and 21 stumpings at Test level, along with 5447 handy runs. If one were to write a story of West Indian wicketkeeping, it’s tough to find a better setting.

Hendriks, currently the president of the Jamaica Cricket Association, says it’s a tradition that all the boys are aware of. “We heard a lot about Barrow and his hundred at Old Trafford. It was passed on from one generation to the next and everyone wanted to be a wicketkeeper.” Dujon remembers the spin-friendly tracks he played on, a fact that contributed to the development of his skill. Baugh, in fact, started off as a legspinner but, almost inevitably, turned to keeping.

Hendriks also fondly recalls how two Wolmer wicketkeepers spotted a third. “In the early ‘60s, Gerry and myself were amazed at a six-year-old boy called Jeffery who used to dive around like an acrobat and pull superbly. It didn’t surprise us at all that he went on to becoming one of the great keepers of all time.” Dujon didn’t disappoint them; and Wolmer, as usual, was true to its tradition.

Football on the giant screen in Jamaica © Siddhartha Vaidyanathan

There was a moment just after the lunch break when it was difficult to gauge what was going on. Around the same time when Harbhajan Singh began the first over after the interval, Portugal and England were starting their penalty shoot-out. The giant screen, that was showing football till then, shifted to displaying the cricket score, and the spectators had to rely on a handful of television sets to follow the action in Gelsenkirchen. Dwayne Bravo probably wanted to watch the ending himself and promptly fell to Harbhajan soon after resumption. Postiga's goal was accompanied by a lot of cheer - most, it appeared, were rooting for Portugal - but they had to instantly hush it up with Bravo falling almost immediately. Such tensions.

Professor Jeremy Coney takes his pitch-analysis class © AFP

There are different ways to do a pitch report. Jeremy Coney, the former New Zealand captain, has probably covered the entire range. He’s attached a ball to a string to exorcise it, recited a poem to describe it, and once, late last year, almost did a breast stroke on land while knocking his knuckles on the pitch. Coney, who during his playing days was hailed for his ability to read pitches, loves analysing the 22 yards. On the eve of every game one can see him scrutinising the surface, tapping on it, inspecting the grass, feeling the clay … It’s almost as if he was a horticulturist on some scientific mission.

So what does Coney look for during his investigations? “I call it reading the entrails,” he says enthusiastically when asked about this whole business. “I ask myself questions as I go along. Is there grass? Is it distributed evenly? How is it shared around? Are there gaps? What sort of grass is it? Are they new young plants? Are they stressed because of lack of water? All this will tell me whether the pitch is going to be quicker at the start, or whether the ball will skid on from the grass (which is always the fastest). If it’s an old plant, the ball will hit the crown and start to do some strange things. If there is dirt there is automatically more friction. So if there are bald patches, I will know that this pitch is going to be variable and will only get worse from that point.”

Once he’s done with the top surface, Coney likes to go a bit deeper. He makes sure he is always around when the television crew dig up the area behind the stumps, to immerse the stumps microphones. “It gives me an idea of the root structure,” he continues, “whether the roots go right down to the ground to hold the structure. It tells me how hard the surface below is and how much moisture is there.”

As if to give it a class-room atmosphere, Coney picks up his pen and quickly sketches the profile of an ideal pitch. “Normally there is grass on top and a depth of hard crust below, that’s of course if it’s rolled properly. Beneath it, you would like to have a cheesy layer and if you finger through it, it’s like a trampoline. That helps the bounce. You can’t have a pitch that is hard throughout its profile, you need moisture underneath because it will keep the roots nourished. The roots can suck the water up and last longer as a result. The problem with the pitches in the West Indies is that you normally have grass growing beside it, not on it.”

He then ventures into a long geological lecture about clay quality, followed by an explanation of the physics of water-soil interaction. Then there is a small matter of studying the weather forecasts, a trifle of analysing the past statistics on this ground, and the usual routine of speaking to seasoned observers. Coney can discuss pitches all day and all night. But does he always get it right? “If I got it right always I wouldn’t be coming back,” he says with a grin. “I have a good track record but the beauty is that even after all the analysis, you may still get it wrong.”

	Rangy Nanan chose a profession that merited little attention in the era of raw pace © Siddhartha Vaidyanathan

"For every fast bowler that played for West Indies between 1976 and 1986, there was a spinner whose ambitions of playing international were finished." Elquemedo Willett would know. One who represented West Indies in five Tests between 1973 and 1975, Willett's career came to a premature halt mainly because of West Indies' focus on pace, pace and nothing but pace. Willett's not complaining; in fact he doffs his hat to the great fast bowlers who made West Indies an invincible force. But maybe it's worth sparing a thought for an entire breed who took up, in Willett's words, a "useless profession".

The list of spinners who played only a handful of games for West Indies, in that era, is endless. Raphick Jumadeen (12 Tests), Inshan Ali (12), Imtiaz Ali (1), Derick Parry (12), Albert Padmore (2), Clyde Butts, Willett, Rangy Nanan

Nanan's case is instructive. A prolific domestic wicket-taker, he got his only chance when West Indies toured Pakistan in 1980-81. He had a good time in the tour games - including snapping up 6 for 48 in an innings against the Governer's XI at Sahiwal – and made his debut on a shirt-front at Faisalabad. On a surface, which Dennis Lillie once termed as a bowler’s "graveyard", he returned impressive match figures of 4 for 91. "It wasn't all about performance," he says reflecting on those times. "We needed to understand that, irrespective of how we did, there was always a chance of not playing in the next game. That was how good the fast bowlers were. It was unfortunate. Had I played fifteen years earlier or fifteen years later, things would have been different."

When he ended his first-class career he was the all-time leading wicket-taker in the Shell Shield, the premier domestic competition. Nanan believes that the ill-effects of West Indies' all-pace policy is being felt now. "You don't see too many good spinners in the Caribbean today because the earlier generation wasn't motivated enough. Not too many took up spin in the '80s and '90s because they thought they would not get a chance."

The meeting with Nanan reminded me of an encounter I'd had with Rajinder Goel a few months back. Goel's path was at least blocked by other spinners. In Nanan's case there was just no hope. He chose a profession that merited little attention in the land.

	John Bowry finds time to narrate the tale © Siddhartha Vaidyanathan

It has been more than 36 years but John Bowry remembers the day vividly. He was playing for St Kitts in the 1969-70 Leeward Islands tournament in Antigua when he came against a fella called Viv Richards. Read on for an interesting anecdote:

"It was his first tournament and when we reached in Antigua, we were told he was going to kill us. Antigua won the toss and elected to bat. We didn't breach with the new ball and my captain called on me to bowl. In the first over I dismissed a batsman by the name Pat Martin and Richards came in and on my second ball to him he was caught bat-pad at leg slip. I bowled a straighter one and it bounced. He pushed forward and it came off his glove and the guy at leg-slip took it.

"He stood up as if he had not played the ball, but in my opinion he had played and in the umpires opinion he played it and the umpire raised his finger. He did not walk off immediately and the crowd charged into the ground because in that season he was in the most terrific form and a big favourite there; we all had to run off.

"After about an hour's delay, they decided to allow him to come back. That time I felt, it was bad for cricket because the umpire had given you out; he should have walked; he stood his ground and that provoked the crowd. And, I was told by a broadcaster that his father beat him the same night saying that when the umpire gave him out he should have walked"

Stoppages in play aren’t uncommon and this series has had its fair share. There’s been rain, plenty of it, bad light and good light – play was bizarrely not started because the umpires “expected” the rains to come. An umpiring botch up played it’s part in a 15-minute stoppage – when Ganga caught and everyone was caught napping – and in a tribute to Sachin Tendulkar, there’ve been sight-screen hassles.

At 5pm on the fourth day, a fire alarm stopped play. For nearly five minutes, the umpires and the players watched bemused as the sirens went off in various corners. Kumble was getting ready to bowl but there was no way Rudi Koertzen was going to allow proceedings to start. The alarm went off yesterday as well, just that it happened during the lunch break and nobody seemed to take it too seriously. The best part about the whole episode was that nobody appeared to want to find out about the fire, and if at all there was any, but instead focused on turning the "damn thing" off. If only there had been a real fire, it would have been a classic case of Nero playing cricket when Rome burnt.

Life in the press box, these days at least, is making heads spin. With television sets placed on the sides, one needs to turn either way see what went on. Now if you miss any portion of the action and quickly turn to the TV screen, all you're likely to see is World Cup football. So when I missed a loud appeal for lbw, against Mahendra Singh Dhoni, and quickly turned left, all I see is David Beckham fumbling on a long-range pass. Was the ball pitched in line? Was it hitting outside off? Was it too high? Was it missing leg? All I know is that it was missing leg, only that the leg was Beckham's bumbling right foot.

	Edgar Gilbert © Siddhartha Vaidyanathan

Edgar Gilbert had to wait 73 years and eight days before he could actually go to a ground to watch a Test match. Gilbert, a former first-class cricketer, was one of many who flocked to Warner Park yesterday, to watch the first day of Test cricket at the world's youngest venue. Some need to wait several years to play Test cricket, others spend a lifetime just waiting to watch it.

It was no doubt an emotional moment. Gilbert, who played for St Kitts and the Combined Islands in the '60s, was reputed to have been a more-than-useful allrounder. He recalls the days when there was no television, when radio and newspapers were his only windows to the cricketing world. Gilbert speaks about how difficult it was to motivate oneself without actually getting to watch - "There was no-one to model yourself on, no-one to get inspired by." The only cricket he saw when he grew up was the tournament played between communities, and the first first-class match he ever saw was the one he played in.

Unlike a few others from St Kitts, who traveled to other islands to watch Test match cricket, Gilbert never got the chance. Fours years ago, he fell victim to a serious diabetes problem, one which forced both his legs to be amputated. Sitting on his wheelchair, he gets teary-eyed as he talks about his first experience of a Test. He's most satisfied with the amount of youngsters that have come to watch the game. "I have seen many talented youngsters take up basketball once they leave school. Now that international cricket has come to St Kitts, I hope there is a shift in attitude." St Kitts has never produced an international cricketer but Gilbert firmly believes that it may not be too long before the floodgates are opened.

	Andy Atkinson is back and the Indians know him well © Siddhartha Vaidyanathan

The imposing figure of Andy Atkinson seems to be all over Warner Park. Sometimes he's gardening the pitch, sometimes tending to the outfield, sometimes instructing the ground staff, sometimes trying to do all of these. The bulk is unmistakable, the enthusiasm admirable. Today, when a bout of showers interrupted preparations, he ensured that the covers were completely in place, got drenched in the process and only then left. Hardly a few seconds after the showers stopped, he was behind the wheel of the ‘super-sopper’, spinning away at various angles.

India have seen him earlier, most prominently when they went to Pakistan in 2003-04. He was accused, by Inzamam-ul-Haq, of preparing pitches that didn't favour his bowlers. The battle got so intense that, when Inzamam accused him of shaving off the grass on the pitch, Atkinson hit back by shaving off his moustache, cheekily adding, "Inzy asked me to shave it off".

A couple of days before the game, the grass on the pitch might have fooled everyone. Atkinson, though, was clean shaven and he lived up to his previous record by shaving off most of the green when match eve arrived.

	Just a few feet from the club ground lies Sir Frank Worrell's childhood home © Siddhartha Vaidyanathan

Nestled amid residential areas, just on the outskirts of Bridgetown, is the Empire Cricket Club. One look at the alumni list and you know why it’s universally regarded as the greatest club ever.

Empire Club might not even have existed had Herman Griffith, the former West Indian fast bowler, not been turned down by Spartan, the rival body. Griffith despite repeated attempts was spurned by Spartan, owing to the strict class structure that existed that the time. He then decided to form his own club. Curiously enough, it was formed on May 24, 1914 (Empire Day) and got its name as a result.

Most of the members stayed close by – Sir Frank Worrell grew up in a house that overlooks the club ground – and there was a slant towards good manners and behaviour. A sign on one of the walls – “No obscene language” - sums up this attitude. More than 92 years on, the club can look back proudly at its rich legacy. It’s probably the only club in the world to have three knighted members as alumni and would be tough to beat in the fast bowling stakes as well. An attempt to pick an all-time XI throws up a formidable side.

Opening the batting would be Sir Conrad Hunte, whose array of strokeplay and power of concentration helped make the West Indian side of the early 1960s one of the most complete of all time. Walking out to open with him would probably be Carlisle Best, who thrilled with his true calypso style of cricket. Best hit the public eye in 1976 when, as a schoolboy, he scored more than 800 runs in the Association's Division II, and was selected for Barbados. His first scoring shot, in a Test, was a hooked six off Ian Botham and he had a few moments in the fine West Indian middle order of the late ‘80s.

The three to follow were plain awesome.

In Sir Everton Weekes at No.3, Seymour Nurse at No.4 and Sir Frank Worrell at No.5 you probably have one of the greatest middle orders of all time. At No.6, occupying the allrounder’s slot would be EAV Williams, or Foffie to most. Williams’s international career was limited to only four Tests, finishing with nine wickets, but he’s most remembered for a whirlwind innings in the Bridgetown Test against England in 1948. He struck 28 from the first six balls he received - six, six, four and four off Jim Laker, then two more fours off Jack Ikin- on his way to reaching West Indies' fastest Test 50 in just 30 minutes. Primarily, though, he was a fast bowler and was known to have been a terror in his heyday.

Keeping wicket would be Clairmonte Depeiaza. Safe with the gloves and more than useful with the bat – his 347-run partnership with Denis Atkinson remains a Test record for the seventh wicket – he would provide the solidity if the top order were to crumble. For spin, there’s Albert Padmore, an offspinner who was unlucky to have played when the West Indies’ mantra shifted to pace, pace and only pace.

Yet, he might not even be needed with the three fast men capable of destroying any line-up. Charlie Griffith would undoubtedly take the new ball with Emmanuel “Manny” Martindale, most remembered for devastating England on the 1933 tour. Joining them, most fittingly, would be Herman Griffith, founder of the club and accurate fast bowler of the ‘30s. Along with Learie Constantine and Martindale, Griffith was one of the early torch-bearers of the West Indian fast bowling legacy.

I made the mistake of asking Charlie Griffith, member and former president, if this was the best club side ever. “Not best,” growled Charlie, “but greatest”.

	Soaking up the sun,sand and cricket in Barbados © Siddhartha Vaidyanathan

With an eight-days gap between the second and third Tests, I decided to take a diversion and pop into Barbados. Unlike any of the other islands we’ve visited, Barbados seemed to have an English feel about it. The Grantley Adams International Airport is a truly sleek construction, unlike the miniature settings in the other cities, and one could immediately sense the opulence floating through the country. The conversion rate tells you a story (1 USD is equivalent to 2 Bajan dollars). Needless to say, considering that the country primarily depends on tourism, it’s a beauty.

Strangely, this is the first island where one can feel the interest in cricket. In the other islands one saw a few stray instances of park/street/beach cricket – maybe it’s all because of my faulty eyes - but the passion wasn’t palpable. The ongoing football World Cup has obviously drawn a few away but the Bajans, it appears, still have time for the cricket. Club games abound in weekends and it’s pleasantly surprising to see around 50-100 spectators at a game between two top teams. As Ryan Hinds, playing for Empire Club, clobbered the trundling medium-pacers to different corners of the Banks Brewery ground, several enthusiasts gulped their beers and talked their cricket.

Talking cricket in the Caribbean has its own charm. One often gets into an endless conversation that shifts from topic to topic and soon realises the deep understanding of the game that the average West Indian fan possesses. A batsman’s technique is often scrutinised till its last detail and comparisons are often made with names from the past. As time flies, with the alcohol intake gradually increasing, one is likely to witness raucous arguments about who was greater than who and similar such. Hinds, meanwhile, continues to pound the Banks club bowling to pulp.

	Darren Sammy, the only international cricketer from St Lucia © Siddhartha Vaidyanathan

It must be special to be chosen one among 160,000. Darren Sammy, the only international cricketer from St Lucia, knows the feeling. Darren played his first game in the previous edition of the Champions Trophy (which West Indies memorably won) and soon realised the enormity of his achievement. “There were more than a thousand people in the airport when I returned,” he beams, “and I realised how much it meant to the people.”

It was a triumph of sorts. His father was just 19 years old when Darren was born (his mother was staggeringly just 15) and didn’t have a steady source of income. Even later, when he worked in banana plantations, there was no guarantee of a rich crop every year. Darren himself experienced several days of working in the fields – starting as early as 6am – and had to wait till 4pm to begin his cricket practice. Luckily for him, his parents didn’t compromise on his education, a fact that helped him to play cricket in school.

Having made it to the West Indies side, Darren could make a difference. He chose a novel way of repaying his gratitude by gifting his father with a mini-bus. Sammy senior drives the mini-bus and makes a living these days; the hard days on the field are a distant memory. Daren realises that he’s scaled a barrier, yet knows that there’s lot of work left to be done.

	Danny Byrne (top) and Peter Chismon engage in their favourite pastime © Siddhartha Vaidyanathan

What are two Englishmen doing in an India v West Indies Test? Watching, maybe. Peter Chismon and Danny Byrne are two globetrotting fans, who travel to various venues, irrespective of the sides playing. Both try their best to visit new venues – they were at Fatullah and Chittagong for the Australia series recently – and decided to watch the India Tests at St Lucia and St Kitts.

Chismon, a 64-year-old from Ipswich, who retired from his job of selling guns at West End a few years ago, concentrates on the game by scoring it. He makes sure he scores the game whenever he visits a venue for the first time and proudly shows his notepad where he scored the recent Australia-Bangladesh Test at Chittagong. Jason Gillespie, whose double-hundred in that match sent heads spinning in various directions, was kind enough to autograph it. That tour to Bangladesh also meant that Chismon had now watched cricket in all Test playing nations.

Both love to visit the stadium a day before the game, get good seats, chat with the groundsmen about the pitch and mix around with the players. Having travelled the world for nearly ten years, they are recognised by a few players as well.

With both planning their tours well in advance, they’ve been often done in by itinerary hassles. During Pakistan’s visit to India in 2005, they’d initially booked tickets for Ahmedabad, the initial proposed venue for the first Test, but were left high and dry after the game was shifted to Mohali.

Byrne speaks about a plan to publish an annual later this year, in conjunction with his fellow itinerant, John Woods, an Irishman who spent 18 months touring the world to bring out a guide to every Test ground in the world.

The strap tells you the sort of book it promises to be – by supporters for supporters world wide - and Byrne is set to write two articles on the Tests at St Lucia and St Kitts. There is also a reference to CLR James’s famous books in the slug, one which says the book is ‘written from beyond the boundary’. In this case, literally.

	Mahendra Singh Dhoni took to dominoes easily © Brian Camacho

The Mohammad Kaif press conference, at the end of the second day's play, had a special visitor. Sitting among the journalists was a certain Dhoni, observing the questions being asked and Kaif's responses to them. He couldn't hold himself back from smirking at a couple of questions and finally, when he realised he had to go, put his hand up and shouted out (in Hindi): "How do you plan to celebrate this century?".

Kaif treated it like any other question, though, and patted it back calmly: "There are still three days to go, we need to make sure we win this Test. We will think of celebrating after that." Dhoni had his fill and he soon walked off, asking Kaif to join the rest of the boys at the beach when he had finished.

A few days back, in a sponsored party where both teams were invited, Dhoni decided to take the lead and try out a game of dominoes. Not only did he learn the rules quickly, but also managed to pick up a few nuances by observing closely. Within a few minutes, he was on his way, partnering Kaif in a victorious debut campaign. Given a choice between holding back and having a go, there's normally only one route Dhoni will choose.

Around 1:50pm local time, despite no real action happening on the field, a loud cheer went out in the stands. The Soca Warriors from Trinidad & Tobago had managed an honourable draw against Sweden in their World Cup opener at Dortmund. Brian Lara appeared to get the message, his face lighting up with a spontaneous smile. An announcement was made after a few minutes and the excitement, especially among the Trinidad boys, was palpable. Lara exchanged a high five with Dwayne Bravo in the slips while Daren Ganga and Ramnaresh Sarwan began to beam as well.

	Labon Kenneth Blackburn Leeweltine Buckonon Benjamin, or Gravy to the cricketing world © Siddhartha Vaidyanathan

Not only did the last five days produce great cricket but, personally at least, introduced one to the joys of the Antigua Recreation Ground, or ARG to most. When a stadium's farewell assumes as much importance as a cricketer's, you know that there must be a special allure that draws in people.

The fact that it's centrally located is vital, with several people passing by the ground daily, even if there is no match going on. Viv Richards's association with the ground started even before he began playing. With the Antigua Grammar School, where he studied, being close by, and the local prison, where his father worked, adjoining the ground, Richards was bound to be an ARG regular. Incidentally, during the early years of the ground, the entire ground staff comprised inmates of the adjacent prison.

The Rec, or 'pasture' to the old timers, also attracts through its
characters. One of the most famous characters at ARG is Labon Kenneth
Blackburn Leeweltine Buckonon Benjamin, or Gravy to the cricketing world. Since 1988 to 2000, he entertained the crowd through his dancing and theatrics. While announcing his retirement in 2000, he walked around the stadium in a wedding gown, making the occasion one to remember.

"Everybody came to the edge of the stands to watch," he recalls, "because it was the end of Gravy's career." Gravy has continued to attend Test matches, taking charge of his stall near the Viv Richards Stand, but has ceased to be the mass entertainer that he once was. As you enter the ground, the first banner you are likely to see involves Gravy. "Will Gravy be back for the World Cup?" it asks. Keep your fingers crossed for that one.

	Joseph Warner, the gigantic gatekeeper at the ARG © Siddhartha Vaidyanathan

There's Joseph Warner, the gigantic gatekeeper, who's been working at the ground for the last 23 years. He considers the ground special because of the "carnival like atmosphere" and the "fantastic music" that's played. Warner decided that the Test match against India would be his last - "I am retiring from Test cricket. I will go along with the ARG."

And then there's Chickie, the chief DJ, at the party stand. He has a reputation as an impresario and the "Chickie Posse" has an ardent following. Operating from the West Indies Oil Co. grandstand, he makes sure that there's never a dull moment when cricket isn't taking place. The music usually plays before play, at the fall of a wicket, at the signal of a boundary, through each adjournment and into the late evening.

Chickie knows his cricket. He developed an interest for the game at the Antigua Grammar School, where Richards studied as well. When Richards made his never-to-be-forgotten 56-ball hundred, Chickie played the famous "Captain, the Ship is Sinking" number, taking a dig at David Gower. Colin Cumberbatch, the veteran photo-journalist who's lived in Antigua for the last 25 years talks about Chickie's craft: "He knows his cricket. He always makes sure that the speakers are at an elevation, so that the breeze, that usually blows from only one side, takes the music away from the field of play. Because of this, the players don't get annoyed by the music. When an over is about to start, Chickie knows how to fade the music down. He will do it without affecting the listener, and without affecting the players."

Over the years, characters like Mayfield and Pepe have regaled the
audiences and it's understandable why the locals feel so close to the ARG. The Vivian
Richards Stadium may develop it's own allure, but as Andy Roberts, one of Antigua's mot famous sons puts it, "They don't make them like the Rec anymore".

Having absorbed the reggae and soca music all day long in the stadium, it came as a pleasant shock, late in the night, to see a group of locals gathered at Heritage Key, the main city centre, swinging to the strains of Bhangra.

It wouldn't have been surprising in Trinidad, which has a large East Indian community, but to see Antiguans enjoy Mundiya to bach ke rahin was a revelation. It was odd to see them 'wining' – a form more focused on hip gyrations - as opposed to following the traditional Punjabi steps. You could even see them mouthing some of the lyrics, though, what they meant was pretty much lost on them.

All this, of course, was taking place in a promotional event for the 2007 cricket World Cup. The fashion shows and dance performances were organised by Team 2K7, from the Ministry of Tourism in Antigua and Barbuda. It was an attempt to gauge the response such carnivals will elicit, to plan ahead for big events next year.

Jeffrey Ettienne, the head of the fashion show troupe, said he picked up the Punjabi album on one of his tours in England. "It's strange, its original, it's different too… it's a nice beat.”

Steve Camacho ©Cricinfo Ltd

It was interesting to see Steve Camacho and Andy Roberts chat at the Antigua Recreation Ground, considering that the end of one career heralded the beginning of another. Camacho, the former West Indies opener, toured England in 1973 and in the second game of the tour, against Hampshire, came up against a fiery young Roberts.

Camacho, who batted in spectacles, went to hook a short ball and was hit in the face. He underwent an operation for a depressed fracture of the cheek and returned home without taking further part in the series. Roberts made his Test debut one year later, and established himself as one of the best bowlers within the next couple of years.

"It's something we've put behind us," says Camacho recalling the incident. "You can't look to take it personally, it's cricket and we need to acknowledge that such incidents happen." After recovering from injury, Camacho played a few seasons of first-class cricket but soon went on to become a pioneer in West Indian cricket administration. He was the West Indian board's first full-time employee and served as secretary, chief executive officer, and Test selector.

As CEO he oversaw the rise of the golden team of the '80s and, as selector, was directly involved in picking out talent for the future. "I remember watching Malcolm Marshall at the Under-19 level, where he was mainly a batsman who used to run in from five paces and bowl fast. I could see that here was a potential quick bowler. I was glad that I was a selector when Marshall made it to the West Indian side."

As manager of a near-invincible side on five tours, Camacho witnessed several historic moments; yet the moment that would rankle most is the World Cup final in 1983, when they were upstaged by India. "It was just a disaster, I can still remember tears in the dressing-room. Marshall was one of those who was particularly emotional because he had missed the World Cup final in 1979, when we won. He was the only one of the greats to have missed out on a World Cup medal."

Curtly Ambrose and Richie Richardson: part of Big Bad Dread and the Baldhead © Cricinfo Ltd

It was a sight to watch Curtly Ambrose, that archetypal destroyer, and Richie Richardson, that marauding hookmeister, strum gentle reggae tunes and regale an audience. Both are part of The Big Bad Dread and the Baldhead, whose latest performance was at Spliff, an outdoor bar close to the ARG.

Curtly was on bass guitar, Richie was on rhythm. For the early part of the show, Curtly was on the right extreme and Richie was on the left, while Bankers, the lead singer, and Jason, the drummer, orchestrated the show. Soon, with television cameramen and other mediapersons showering them with all the spotlight, both decided to mingle with the crowd.

In the crowd was Bridgette, Curtly's wife, and Aileen, Richie's wife. Bridgette says they've been playing seriously since 2002, adding that Curtly used to fool around with the guitar even during his playing days. Bridgette met Ambrose through her cousin – Winston Benjamin, one in a long line of Antiguans who bowled fast. Curtly's favourite band, Bridgette reveals, is Culture, a reggae band that was a part of the vibrant, politically-charged Jamaican reggae scene in the late '70s.

Bankers decided to have some fun by taking off from a reggae number, starting an impromptu rendition of Hotel California. Tanya, Curtly's daughter, isn't surprised – "they do this all the time".

Curtly and Richie weren't the only Test cricketers there. In the crowd is Patterson Thompson, the promising fast bowler who played only two Tests. Named after two deadly fast bowlers – Patrick Patterson and Jeff Thompson – he had a shocker of a debut against New Zealand at Barbados, when he bowled as many as 26 no-balls. In the partying stakes, though, with Curtly and Richie setting the tone, he was quite unstoppable.

As our taxi passes by All Saints Comprehensive School, our driver informs us of its fast-bowling legacy. Four Tests cricketers have emerged from All Saints – Eldine Baptiste, Winston Benjamin, Curtly Ambrose and Kenneth Benjamin. Between them you have 2543 first-class wickets and a tremendous amount of firepower. Another All Saints fast bowler, Anthony Merrick played for West Indies A. Yet, it isn't a school that's produced only fast bowlers. Ridley Jacobs, the wicketkeeper-batsman who even captained West Indies in two Tests, is also an alumni. Not for nothing is the school's motto, 'From possibility to realisation'.

Richie Richardson laments the absence of spectators on the opening day of the Antigua Test. He remembers how he cherished playing at the ARG (Antigua Recreation Ground), his home ground, and how the atmosphere would often get electric. "There used to be people falling off trees."

One can visualise the setting. The ARG is small and quite cute with certain low-lying stands allowing for the breeze to gush through. The Chickie stand and the Party stand set the rhythm for the crowd, with calypso and soca (an acronym for soul calypso) playing between overs.

Sadly, only around thousand people landed up to watch the first day. Lara felt that it was a result of West Indies' poor performances, yet was confident that they "could win the crowds back". The weekend promises better fare. For the trees to be occupied, though, we may require a thriller.

Harbhajan Singh tries his hand at a game of Warri © Siddhartha Vaidyanathan

Harbhajan Singh wracks his brains over a game of Warri, a pastime that the locals introduce him to. Warri is played in India as well – it's known as Pallanguzhi in Tamil – but, going by the mystified looks, none of the Indians seemed to have heard of it.

If you have mastered Warri, you earn the title of "professor". One such professor decided to give Harbhajan a lesson, teaching him the intricacies of the game. A Warri board comprises twelve large pockets, into which 48 beads are filled equally. The player who begins empties one of the pits that belongs to him and distributes the seeds - one for each pit in a clockwise direction. He continues the process by emptying the pit next to where he ends the first set of seeds. He carries on the process until the end, when if he finds more than one empty pit, he gives up the turn to the other player. If he finds one empty pit next to the pit where he ended, then he captures all the seeds gathered on the right side of the empty pit. The player who captures the most seeds ends up the winner.

Quick counting of the beads and judgement of the number of pockets to be filled requires one to be very attentive. It also requires some rapid mental calculations. Harbhajan does well, plays a few smart moves and thrills "professor" with his learning curve. Inevitably he loses, but the margin (25 to 23) tells you how close it got. "Professor" challenges him for one more round. Harbhajan, though, has a valid excuse: "I need to go out to bat, wickets are falling quickly."

	Mervin Richards: the more talented brother? © Siddhartha Vaidyanathan

As astonishing as it may sound, Viv Richards's mother felt that he wasn't the most talented cricketer she'd seen. She reserved that accolade for Mervin, her other son. Mention it to Mervin and he blushes naughtily: "Nah. I was probably more wristy and stylish but Viv was something else."

Mervin didn't play too much cricket; football was his preferred sport. In fact, he's currently the president of the Antigua Football Association. "We played a lot of football. Viv was in defence, me in midfield. Viv had a great leap. He could clear from dangerous positions. He would often come from behind and score. Football lost a great defender in Viv."

Mervin's taller but the resemblance is striking. The eyes widen when when he begins an exciting anecdote; his hand movements accompany his descriptions. "People always get confused. They used to be listening to the radio as I passed by, when Viv was playing in some other country, and say 'hey Viv, we're hearing about you'." He recalls their early one-man games at the Ovals, where they grew up; says their games always ended in fights. "Viv hated to lose, he got that from our old man, Malcolm. Both were very similar you know, born under the same star sign." Viv inherited several qualities from Malcolm. "They were similarly built, naturally powerful men. People talk about Viv's forearms but forget that he never lifted weights."

But what was the secret behind Viv's audacious strokeplay? How did he master that devastating hoick to midwicket? "We used to play in a park where straight shots were not advised. There used to be a fisherman who used to stand behind the bowler's arm and every time you hit it to him he used to cut the ball in half and throw it back. So we needed to hit it to midwicket. And Viv mastered it."

He vividly recalls how Viv mania often enveloped the nation, even during local island games. "In one of his first games for Antigua, Viv was given out by the umpire but the crowd would have none of it. No Viv no match, they say. Viv was called back. He played three innings in the game." He remembers Kelvin Thomas who had a scoreboard outside his grocery shop at the Ovals, listening to the radio and regularly updating Viv's score. "It ensured good business. Everyone went there to see how Viv was getting on."

But of all the things he saw, Mervin picked out a most memorable moment, a moment when he felt goose bumps, when he felt proud to be Viv Richards's brother. It was a Test match at Lord's and Viv was batting on 145. Desmond Haynes was approaching a hundred and Viv was trying to give him a single to take the strike. That was when Viv got an absolute dolly from Peter Willey, the offspinner. Mervin describes it as "a ball which Viv could have hit for six to any part of the ground". Yet, he tried to flick it for a single, just to give Haynes the strike. Shockingly, the ball took the leading edge and lobbed up for the fielder.

"I remember the emotional feeling, I remember trying to hunt him out and give him a pat on the back. Our father Malcolm always wanted Viv to play for records and averages but he never, ever did that. For him, the team came first, everything else later. It was something that made him great, something that made us proud."

If not for a phone call from Ranjib Biswal, the Indian selector who is doubling up as the team manager, Rahul Dravid might have not addressed the press after the game. In what was a blatant lapse, Dravid left with the rest of the team after the game, forgetting his customary meeting with the members of the media. To his credit, though, he made sure he returned, termed it as a "miscommunication" and was pretty apologetic.

'T&T qualifying for the World Cup was like Lara breaking the world record,' says Dwayne Bravo, who had a rocking time in the ODI series against India © Getty Images

The crowds at the Queen's Park Oval haven't been short on the musical front. One of the catchy tunes has been the one toasting the Soca Warriors, the T&T football team that's gearing up to play in their first World Cup.

Cricinfo asked a couple of the Trinidad cricketers to talk about the excitement.

"T&T qualifying for the World Cup was like Lara breaking the world record,” said Dwayne Bravo. “Dwight Yorke may be old but he isn’t finished yet, he is still got a lot of strength and pace in his legs. Obviously, England and Sweden will make the play but we will be dangerous in counterattacks."

Dave Mohammed recalled that when T&T had qualified, by beating Bahrain in the play off, the cricket side were in Australia. "The Trinidad boys - Lara, Bravo, Ganga and me - celebrated with a small party together. Even though we may be playing cricket, we will follow our side closely on the internet and on TV."

	West Indian fans always find something to cheer about © AFP

32nd over of the West Indies innings. Yuvraj Singh to Lara, back of a length delivery outside off, glided to third man delectably. Harbhajan and Raina give chase. As they near the boundary line, a yellow object is hurled from someone in the bottom tier of the Cyril L Duprey stand. Raina is mortified; Harbhajan has a puzzled look. Play is held up for a couple of minutes, Dravid has a word with the umpire and security personnel try and hunt out the culprit.

It was an unfortunate blackmark in a series that's witnessed some outstanding crowd behaviour. Watching cricket in the West Indies is like being amid a giant party and, despite all their banter and sledging, the crowds have shown a deep understanding of the game. Dhoni may not get the cheers he does in India but there's a wave of anticipation whenever he strides out to the crease. Sehwag's clattering at St Kitts was applauded, as were a number of other efforts.

The spirit has been a far cry from what West Indies experienced when they toured India in 2002. The game at Rajkot had to be stopped because of bottles being thrown into the playing area and other games were affected by unruly behaviour as well.

This series has seen sporting crowds in all three venues so far, and the West Indies side have duly acknowledged it by taking a victory lap after their triumphs. One such stray incident usually destroys all the good work. It was the first such. Hopefully it will be the last.

Work in progress: the Viv Richards Stadium in Antigua © Cricinfo Ltd

With direct flights all taken, I had chosen to go from St Kitts to Port-of-Spain via Antigua. With seven hours to kill, there was enough time to drop in at the Sir Viv Richards Stadium, which is being readied for the World Cup next year.

Located in Northsound, around 10 kilometres from the Antigua Recreation Ground, the stadium lies in isolation with large empty spaces surrounding it. With mountains enveloping the ground, though from a fair distance, the top view is more like a giant crater.

Like the new stadium at Trelawny, located in the north coast of Jamaica, what strikes you first is the Chinese influence. Around 300 workers from the China Civil Engineering Construction Company (CCECC) drive the building project and are complemented by around 100 locals. But why has the project gone to a Chinese company? Superior efficiency and better man-management skills are two points that are usually cited.

Deon Wilson, Ridley Jacobs's brother, is involved with the construction. He feels that November will be a reasonable time to expect the stadium to be completed; he also talks about a school game that they plan to play in July.

The capacity is expected to be around 20,000. The design, in many ways, resembles Warner Park in St Kitts. Two large stands at either end are flanked by large mound spaces on the sides. Bennett King wouldn't mind it – he recently spoke about how "concrete jungles" keep the spectators and the players afar apart and urged the authorities to think of open designs.

Q: Chanderpaul appeared to bat better once he got the runner. Why was that?

A: Ah. We need to trigger him off sometimes. He's probably something like what Gordon Greenidge did around 20 years back. (Limping on one leg, Greenidge hit an awesome 214 not out to storm West Indies to a victory at Lord's in 1984)

Q: Will winning the series in front of your home crowd be similar to T&T qualifying for the football World Cup?

A: Not really. We'll probably reserve that feeling for winning the cricket World Cup next year.

Q: Your impressions of Warner Park …

A: I played here 17 years ago when I had a wonderful time against a guy called [Narendra] Hirwani. But it didn't look like this. It's a great stadium now.

Q: Your reaction to Sachin Tendulkar missing out on this tour …

A: It's disappointing that he's not coming. We are all entertainers. It's a big loss to the Caribbean people, a big loss to viewing public. The likes of Sarwan and Chris Gayle have great respect for him. We [Sachin and Lara] do have matches to play against each other – in the ICC Champions Trophy, maybe in America. We want to win, but we want to win against the best team.

Asafa Powell: gearing up for the 'greatest race' © Cricinfo Ltd

The 100 metres race at the forthcoming IAAF meet at Gateshead in England, just about three weeks away, is arguably the most-hyped athletics event in recent times but Asafa Powell, the Jamaican sprint king, appears completely unfazed.

In a quiet setting in the National Stadium at Kingston, he seems unflappable, going through his paces undisturbed, preparing to take on Justin Gatlin, his arch-rival. Gatlin recently, for a few days at least, broke Asafa's record but now, after a few scientific adjustments, they stand on an equal 9.77 seconds.

When Cricinfo decided to disturb him, just for the sake of the high of speaking to the fastest man in the world, he obliges readily. He knows it's probably "the greatest race that will ever be run" but somehow manages to maintain a humorous countenance.

Asafa wants to win it for his parents, a couple whose life was enveloped by gloom when two of their sons died recently - Michael was shot, Vaughan suffered a cardiac arrest - and Asafa is keen that he wins to keep them happy. Unlike a few of his other countrymen, he didn't choose to shift to the USA, saying he preferred to be close to family. He admits that Gatlin is the physically stronger man, but feels that his speed will win the day.

And, of course, being a Jamaican, despite not having too much of an interest in the game, he can't not talk about cricket. "I used to be a fast bowler till when I was in school but didn't do much after that. I know Courtney Walsh very well and go to his restaurant pretty often. It's a tough game, you know. But very slow." Speed freak that he is, Asafa quickly gets into his Mercedes and shows his mettle, disappearing through the long driveway in what appears like a few milliseconds.

Collie Smith’s tombstone (Click here for a bigger image) © Cricinfo Ltd

The five epithets inscribed on his gravestone tell the story - keen cricketer, unselfish friend, worthy hero, loyal disciple, happy warrior. They all refer to someone who Sir Garfield Sobers felt was a greater allrounder than himself; someone who was the "people's hero" in Jamaica; and someone whose magical spirit was tragically cut short at the tender age of 26. O'Neill Gordon Smith, or Collie to most, will never be forgotten in these parts, especially in the regions around Boys' Town.

When Sobers devotes an entire chapter in his book, Cricket Crusader, to a fellow cricketer, you realise he must have been special. In the chapter titled 'Collie', Sobers wrote: "He had the heart of a giant, an unquenchable ecstasy of spirit, a joyous nature and unmatchable zest for living - and for cricket." The performances show Collie to be special: at 21, in 1954-55, he scored centuries in consecutive games against Australia on his first-class and Test debut respectively; and at 24 he produced a hundred in his first appearance against England, during the course of which he hit a six off Jim Laker which broke the tiles on the ladies' balcony over long-on.

According to a few who saw Collie the "Mighty Mouse", he was a "more than useful" offspinner, modelling himself on Laker; an "exceptional" fielder; and an "awesome batsman", one who attacked with a dash comparable to Sobers. More importantly, he played a carefree brand of cricket - his first scoring shot in England was a six - and always believed that sportsmen needed to entertain. But Collie's most significant achievement was to inspire a whole generation of young West Indians, and make them believe that dreams can be realised.

The area where Collie grew up - in and around Trenchtown - was, and remains, one of the embattled neighbourhoods in Kingston. It's an area that even the locals prefer to avoid considering the rampant levels of violence and corruption. As one enters the area, the desperation is palpable. Shabbily dressed youngsters demand money, saying they haven't had anything to eat in the last few days. Riffraffs threaten, trying to bully you into submission. Luckily, our guide, Lyndel Wright, Collie's youngest brother who grew up in these parts, manages to divert the danger with his firm talking. Wright terms the Boys' Town region as the "Soweto of Jamaica", but recalls the township’s heyday, when it was actually the pride of the country, when it produced heroes like Bob Marley, who played football for the local club, and Collie.

In the 1940s, Hugh Sherlock, the priest who wrote Jamaica's national anthem, decided to start a school, a cricket club and a football club in Boys’ Town, mainly to engage the disenchanted community in some constructive activity. "Without Hugh, we would have all definitely gone astray," says Gladstone Robertson, a contemporary of Collie's and someone who went on to play cricket for Jamaica. "He helped keep us all occupied, helped us realise that dreams can materialise, inspired us by producing a hero like Collie." Collie was the first, and remains the only, Boys’ Town cricketer who went on to play for West Indies. He embodied the good side of Boys’ Town - humility, vitality, persistence - and brought cheer to an embittered society.

The way to Collie Smith drive © Cricinfo Ltd

Tragically all dreams were shattered on September 9, 1959 as Collie, while driving in a car with Sobers and Tom Dewdney, another Jamaican cricketer, was a victim in an accident. Sobers, who was his room-mate and close friend, talks about how deeply it affected him: "In all my innings, and especially in Jamaica where they so loved Collie, I played with him inside me. Trying perhaps to give him the innings that death had denied him. We had some wonderful innings together. They were beginning to call me a great allrounder. Collie was a greater allrounder than I."

Alas, unbefitting as it may sound, the Collie Smith Drive is one of the most dangerous streets in Kingston today. The Boys' Town cricket team, which was once a feeder club for the Jamaican national side, languishes at the bottom of the pile. Taxi drivers refuse to go to to Boys' Town, adding that though they are ashamed, they have no choice. Wright sums it up best: "Boys' Town needs more Hugh Sherlocks, needs more heroes like Collie." He recalls the day around 30,000 people thronged the streets, mourning the death of their famous son. He also recalls the lift that Collie gave to the community, who could walk with their heads held high, aspiring to the greatness that Collie achieved.

In a quiet corner of Maypen Cemetery, the biggest of its kind in the Caribbean, lies Collie's gravestone, a cricketing shrine even today. The sad part is that you're usually advised, for your own safety, to not venture in the region.

Bob Marley's house in Trench Town ©Cricinfo Ltd

Once you enter Trench Town, it doesn't take too long to realise that you're in Bob Marley territory. The walls have caricatures of Marley and bright screaming headlines concerning the Wailers. In a lane opposite Boys' Town cricket and football club, is arguably one of Jamaica's most famous houses – the one where Marley lived.

There's a flag of Jamaica outside, music blaring from a speaker, and a couple of men, decorated with Rastafarian braids, smoking. We're not allowed inside the house but take a tour of the backyard. There's Marley's van, now in a dilapidated state, on the verge of collapse; there's Marley's statue, a medium-sized structure erected from plaster of Paris, with a guitar in his hand and a football at his feet. On the plinth, are drawings of Haile Selassie I, the Ethopian emperor who was a strong advocate of Rastafarianism, and Marcus Garvey, one of the pioneers of black emancipation in these parts. Hens cackle at Marley's feet; the music in the background gets louder.

Marley played football for Boys' Town and some of his contemporaries remember him as a talented player who could play anywhere. In a run-down region facing rampant poverty he was a beacon of inspiration, urging young men and women to dare to dream. Today, Trench Town is the hotbed of violence and corruption. It's difficult to get to the place without being approached for money, without being bullied. Heroes like Marley and Collie Smith, the talented allrounder who tragically died at the age of 26, remain fresh in memory but the mention of Boys' Town is always accompanied by a regretful sigh. It was once the pride of the country; now it's better to stay far away.

It's raining on the eve of the match and the Indian batsmen are forced into a makeshift indoor arrangement. It's interesting to observe how they practice mastering their catching, with a pseudo hand table-tennis kind of game.

Two tables, one smaller than the other, are placed one next to the other. One player underarms it on the table and the other is supposed to catch it clean - no fumbling, no use of body, no juggling. He also can't catch it with his hands in the table area. Each fumble or drop costs a point. The first to five loses. Sehwag joyfully registers victory after victory, in a winner stays format, before Yuvraj ends his reign.

Yuvraj stays on to eventually beat all but there's one hurdle even he can't clear. Chappell arrives right at the end and upstages him 5-4 in the most thrilling event of the day. Frazer says Chappell can play this game all day and recalls a tour of the USA when Chappell went undefeated. Playing a similar sort of game called twisty-twosty, BJT Bosanquet invented the googly. Watch this space for further developments.

Fans watch the champs league final at Kingston club © Cricinfo Ltd

It's all happening at the Kingston Cricket Club at Sabina Park. Nothing to do with cricket, but a small matter of around 40 fans watching Arsenal take on Barcelona in the Champions League final. Support is divided. Raucous noise threatens to shatter a few glass bottles in the bar. The referee, being an easy target to vent spleen, dies a thousand deaths. Either way he is doomed – the abuses are guaranteed.

Arsenal lose one man. Mayhem. Arsenal score. Mayhem. Soon after half-time, the bar manager realises that people are more interested in the football than in his beer. He promptly switches off the television. Says there's construction work to be completed ahead of the India-West Indies cricket match.

The television outside is working on a tube that's on its last legs. Pictures are hazy, footballers are smudged colours on the screen, and the scoreline is illegible. Barcelona score. The roof quivers. Barcelona score again. The entire stadium reverberates. Barcelona win. Song and dance. Barcelona fans want all the beer in the world. Arsenal fans begin hunting for the manager.

Charlie shows the Lawrence Rowe grip © Cricinfo Ltd

Joseph Charles Morris, or simply Charlie, is integral to Sabina Park. Way back in 1959, he came to the ground as a volunteer ball boy. Soon he was part of the groundstaff, earning a royal sum of five shillings a week. Thirteen years later, he was elevated to the post of curator. Where there's Charlie, there's a story. He has the memory of an elephant and the cheekiness of a squirrel.

In 1972 both Charlie and Lawrence Rowe made their Test debuts, one with a roller and the other with a bat. Charlie did his bit by giving the local hero a belter; Rowe responded by smacking 214 and 100 not out. Charlie remembers the knock, tells you how Rowe's grip was one of a kind, tells you that there was no batsman more beautiful to watch, repeats that there was no batsman more beautiful to watch. "He whistle when he cover-drove maan, we soon whistle with him."

Charlie gained fame for the sheen he managed on first-day pitches, almost producing a mirror finish. He takes me for a walk around Sabina Park. He shows the dressing-room where Bishan Bedi waved his white flag in 1976, declaring to avoid the risk of hostile fast bowling; points out where ML Jaisimha usually fielded ("He got style, great style"); marks out Michael Holding's run-up; takes me to the mound area, imitates the kind of jigs they usually perform, and continues talking.

Charlie is possessive of his pitches, and sometimes gives the impression that the result of the game is all in his hands. "I won Jamaica the Shell Shield [by preparing a pitch suitable for the home side] in the early 1980s. I have a great record for West Indies." When asked if it will rain tomorrow, he laughs and says, "All your fault maan. You brought the rain with ya. I will punish you by telling more stories."

	A smiling slow death © Cricinfo

The setting for the Indians’ opening fixture of the West Indian tour was in stark contrast to what they experienced in Pakistan, on their previous overseas tour, five months ago. In January this year, they kicked off their campaign against Pakistan A at Bagh-e-Jinnah, a pastoral setting in Lahore, in extremely chilly conditions.

Security concerns prompted the authorities to disallow the fans into the arena and eager spectators watched from beyond the pickets. It was more like watching an exhibition match with the mute button turned on.

Jarrett Park was quite the opposite. Around 4000 enthusiasts packed the picturesque football stadium – the last international side to play here was England, back in 1998 - and created a carnival atmosphere. A commentator kept them updated with the goings-on and triggered several moments of mirth with his jocular style.

As the Jamaica XI were staring at a big defeat, he chuckled: "The next batsman is Tamar Lambert. All we can do is wish him luck". More significant was the previous announcement: "We request all of you to use plastic cups while sharing alcohol. We do not encourage glass items inside the ground." One can imagine the kind of uproar such an announcement might have elicited five months back in Pakistan considering, leave alone grounds, alcohol isn’t even allowed inside the country.

Somewhere around the halfway stage of the game, Montego Bay’s most famous son makes an appearance. Steve Bucknor – footballer, cricketer, football referee, cricket umpire, "slow death" et al – is the most recognisable figure in these parts. He waves to the crowd graciously; some respond by raising the index finger. He chats with his friends at Jarrett Park, feels Ricky Ponting will break every record in the book, and raves about the magical qualities of Warne, Murali and Harbhajan. One of the local umpires tells us the secret behind Bucknor: "He always cool maan, he good because he cool." Later in the night, Bucknor duly proves him wrong by losing his temper in a traffic jam while driving back to Kingston.

Baldhead bowls, the new dread bats © Siddhartha Vaidyanathan

No sooner had the Indians recovered from the jet-lag, than they unleashed their latest fashion statement - Baldheads Unlimited. Sreesanth set things rolling even before leaving India, and it didn't take too long for Irfan Pathan and Suresh Raina to catch on.

Sreesanth, it is learnt, shaved his head for religious reasons but Pathan and Raina joined the when-in-Windies-do-as-the-locals-do brigade couple of days after landing.

Rockstar MSD (Dhoni to some) had showed early signs of this revolution a few weeks back, when he chopped off his bobbing mane and cited 'tremendous heat and humidity in the Caribbean' to be the main reason. "But I will let it grow now," he revealed, "and by the end of the tour, it should be back to its earlier splendour."

Curtly Ambrose and Richie Richardson once started a band called 'New Dread and the Baldhead'. This Indian side is reversing the concept a bit: Baldheads - the new dreads.

The Melbourne Cricket Club © Cricinfo Ltd

Tucked away in a quiet corner of Kingston, at the end of Courtney Walsh Drive, is the Melbourne Cricket Club. Founded way back in 1892, the club boasts a glittering array of alumni, serving as a feeder for Jamaica's state team. Arthur Barrett and Sam Morgan led the way; Michael Holding and Courtney Walsh, who is the current president, have ends named after them; Marlon Samuels and Carlton Baugh jr carry on the tradition.

Like Sabina Park, it has a bar near the pavilion, with photographs of famous teams decorating the walls. The dressing room is quaint – with wooden benches arranged in a classroom-like setting and shelves on one wall that act as kit-bag enclosures. One of the shelves has a rusty label that says C Walsh. He’s all over town this fella – in his bar Cuddyz in New Kingston, in his sports shop in Courtney Walsh boulevard, in Sabina Park ...

The roll of honour for twin centurions at the Melbourne Cricket Club in Kingston © Cricinfo Ltd

Unusually, especially for a club ground, it has sponsors' labels on the boundary walls. Even more unusually, just like in Sabina Park, the roof railings have a list of all batsmen who have scored centuries in both innings of a Test. Lawrence Rowe, a local hero, figures there; as does Sunil Gavaskar, whose legend still lives on here. But it’s a queer statistic for public consumption. List of hundreds and five-wicket hauls is one thing; list of twin-centuries quite another. Imagine the odds of finding the name Wajahatullah Wasti on the roof of a small cricket club called Melbourne based in Kingston!

The scene outside the Norman Manley Airport in Kingston © Cricinfo

Long flight journeys and slow-moving immigration queues can get tedious. I was half asleep while exchanging my currency at Heathrow airport, almost mistaking a five hundred dollar note for a fifty. Despite wanting to enjoy the country side, and despite Dire Straits blaring into my ears, I ended up snoozing on the bus to Gatwick.

But sometime before noon, with my watch still showing Mumbai time and with my thoughts focused firmly on sleep, I entered a quite exotic world. It was something I had only seen on television and read about. I had just checked into the British Airways flight to Kingston.

As I settled to wait in the corner of the departure lounge, there was someone humming Bob Marley’s No Woman, no cry, several young men with the characteristic Rastafarian braided hair, little kids with curled mops, as if intentionally burnt. There was a Jamaican businessman “traveling to see the cricket; to see Lara’s boys whip ye guyz”. There was a buzz around, people conversing in patois, an almost broken English, joking, singing. Suddenly, all sleep disappeared. It was time to get up, stand up.

Next to me on the flight was Glenn, a Jamaican who is now settled in London. Seeing me holding a copy of Another bloody tour, Frances Edmonds’ wonderful book on the 1986 England-West Indies series, Glenn’s eyes lit up. “I saw that series maan. Couldn’t afford tickets but got a job as a guard at Sabina Park. Our Patrick Patterson and our Mikey Holding were too good for them.” Glenn calls himself a Sabina Park faithful and spells out his four main interests in life - rum, coffee, Bob Marley and cricket (and adds that the order regularly varies).

He chats and he chats – on topics that range from offbeat Chinese cinema to Surinamese cuisine (neither of which I have any idea about) and after around nine hours, his tone suddenly rises as he looks out of the window and sees the flight descending. “Here we are – New Kingston is over there, the new highway is there, Gun Boat beach, Kingston Wharf …” Glenn can’t contain his excitement. As can’t the rest, who all let out a joyous applause once the flight touches down on the runway that parts the Caribbean sea, with the glittering waters on either side.

Kingston is beautiful, it’s apparently also dangerous. As we drive from the airport to New Kingston, with the mountain range overlooking the sea on one side and a pastoral countryside on the other, our local escort, who is an Indian working here, briefs us about the city. “Crime is rampant - don’t go out late - but most people are very friendly. Taxis may fleece you but there is not much of an option. It’s a very hospitable country but restrict yourselves to a few areas.”

The streets are pretty deserted after the sun falls. But a group of Jamaicans sitting together indoors comes with a certain joi de vivre. The musical intonations in patois, the cackling laughter, the Appleton rum, the stories, the stories the stories. I called up Glenn to say that all was fine with my hotel and that I was off for an early night. “There are no early nights in Jamaica maan. You wastin’ your time sleepin’"