The Birth of Ball-by-Ball Commentary

Thats the way It all started. Hearing Cricket live as it happens

Monday (May 14) marks the 80th anniversary of the first ball-by-ball broadcast on the BBC. In Australia, matches had been covered since 1922, with the first Test coverage coming during the Sydney Test in 1924-25. But it was only in 1927 when the BBC drew up its new charter which gave it the right to send out reporters to inform the public about major events, that the idea spread to Britain.

Lance Sieveking, who had just returned from the USA where he had been impressed by live baseball commentary, decided to experiment with cricket. The BBC had already started with coverage of a rugby international - England v Wales at Twickenham - on January 15, 1927, and soon followed with other broadcasts from the Grand National and the Boat Race.

On April 1, The Guardian announced that the BBC had proposed adding cricket to its basket of radio sports. As with most newspaper comment of the time, the reaction was lukewarm at best. The problem was that the papers regarded radio as a direct competitor and for a long time refused to publish programme schedules.

On April 25, it was announced that the Reverend Frank Gillingham, a former Essex batsman and a well-respected preacher, would be the man who would deliver the first cricket commentary from Leyton on the first day of the match between Essex and the New Zealanders. The plan was for him to be on air from 2.10pm until 2.20pm, and then for a further four five-minute bursts on the hour with a general summary at 6.45pm. In between, the London Radio Dance Band would keep listeners entertained.

Although coverage was limited, The Daily Telegraph noted that "it is difficult to see how else such a broadcast could be made thoroughly interesting". A few days later The Guardian revealed that there were plans to cut into the scheduled band music "at any period when play is specially interesting".

As the day itself loomed, the Radio Times, the BBC's own publication, described the venture as "a new departure, an experiment, and something of an adventure" while admitting that cricket was "one of the slowest games in the world" and, as such, not exactly what people would want to listen to for long. "They will not have to sit through descriptions of maiden overs and wait while the batsman send to the pavilion for his cap."

There is no recording of the broadcasts, but newspaper reaction was, perhaps predictably, low key. The Western Daily Press described it as "deadly dull" to the general body of listeners, but the Edinburgh Evening News was a little more upbeat with its verdict of "a partial success".

The experiment must have gone down reasonably well at Broadcasting House as it quickly decided to cover more matches. Lord's proved a tough nut to crack, although issues about where the commentator could sit were finally resolved in time for Pelham Warner - who was overlooked for the Leyton match as his voice was deemed "too gravely melancholic" - to cover Middlesex v Nottinghamshire. Rather than a spot in or near the pavilion, he was forced to perch on top of the Clerk of the Works office, just outside the main ground overlooking third man.

The expansion in coverage indicates that the public warmed to the idea. The press remained defensive. In June, the Daily Mail slammed the "pathetic offering". On July 6, Warner, who had quickly become the voice of London commentary - or "running comment" as the BBC termed it - was at Lord's for the third day of Oxford v Cambridge, with a car on standby should that finish to whisk him to The Oval to cover Gentlemen v Players.

So cricket on the radio was here to stay. Sadly, Gillingham was soon gone. The end came when during a lengthy rain delay in a match at The Oval he ingeniously decide to fill in time by reading out the advertisements which surrounded the ground. In the rather puritanical and non-commercial era of Lord Reith, that was about as cardinal a sin as could be imagined and he was soon jettisoned.

Graham Ford- The new Entry for Indian Cricket Coach

Lets Check the man himself who did wonders for the SouthAfricans

Unassuming and determinedly low key, Graham Ford ascended gradually to the position of South African coach, by-passing several bigger and more familiar names along the way. A competent all-round sportsman, Ford is a former provincial tennis champion, has provincial colours for football and is a qualified rugby union referee to go with his cricketing credentials.

As a player, Ford had an eight-year first-class career in the Natal B team during the 1980s, but as a coach he moved steadily through the ranks, from the University of the Natal team, through the Natal Colts side to become senior Natal coach in 1992. He was the first to admit that he was fortunate with Natal in having Malcolm Marshall and Clive Rice on hand to help him guide a crop of outstanding young players which included Shaun Pollock, Jonty Rhodes, Lance Klusener, Neil Johnson, Dale Benkenstein and Errol Stewart.

At the same time, his personalised approach proved not only popular, but effective as Natal astounded South Africa in the 1996-97 season by winning the domestic first-class and one-day competitions. He had already had a go at coaching the South African A team and in 1998 took the A side on tour to Sri Lanka. At the beginning of 1999, Ford was appointed assistant to Bob Woolmer in New Zealand, a role he carried through to the 1999 World Cup, before taking over the senior position when Woolmer's contract ran out after the World Cup. In his time, they won nine of the 11 series under his guidance..

The Hansiegate Affair, however, has massively disrupted the South African side, and Ford was fired in 2001. Many believed he unfairly paid the price for internal power games within South African cricket. He moved to Kent as director of cricket in 2004, and while there oversaw an influx of South African players to the county. In 2006 he returned home to take charge of the Dolphins.

Lets see whether he can make up to Indian aspirations or not.........

A Monster Gentleman

Lets take a look into the world of Freedie- Andrew Flintoff

In the summer of 2005, Andrew Flintoff established himself as England's greatest allround cricketer since the days of Ian Botham, producing a succession of wholehearted and inspirational performances to reap 402 runs and 24 wickets in five Tests, and carry his team to glory in arguably the greatest Ashes series of all time. It was a performance that reverberated around the globe, and propelled Flintoff to the sort of superstar status that his many admirers had always believed was within his grasp, but had often despaired of him ever achieving.

Big, northern and mightily proud of it, he hits the ball harder than any English cricketer since Botham, and uses his colossal 6'4" frame to generate speeds in excess of 90mph which, allied to his metronomic accuracy and burgeoning mastery of reverse-swing, make him one of the most intimidating bowlers in the game. For a time Freddie was destructive and self-destructive in equal measure - his precocious skills and size led to a Test debut at the age of 20, but two years later he was struggling with his weight and his motivation, barely able to bowl because of persistent back problems, and barely worth a place in the Lancashire seconds.

In 2001, he was given an ultimatum by his management team, and requested to be sent to Rod Marsh's ECB Academy. It gave him the motivation he needed, and when England SOSed for him during that winter's India tour, he was a reformed character. Despite being found out by India's spinners, he picked up a maiden Test century against New Zealand and was an integral factor in a successful home summer in 2002.

Unfortunately, it was all too exciting for the England management. By the time they flew out to Australia in October, Flintoff had been bowled into the ground, and could barely walk after a hernia operation. But he returned to action in time for the World Cup, where he was the most economical bowler in the tournament, and come the 2003 season, he was ready to take centre stage.

He came of age in the Test series against South Africa, thumping a therapeutic 95 in England's remarkable comeback at The Oval to go with a defiant century at Lord's, and produced a starring role in England's series win in the Caribbean, where he learned at last to slip the handbrake and become a genuine attacking option with the ball. After helping England to a 2-1 series win in South Africa, he flew home early for an operation on his troublesome left ankle, forwent his honeymoon to speed his recuperation, then returned fitter and better than ever.

He single-handedly inspired England to a two-run victory over Australia at Edgbaston, in one of the greatest Tests of all time, followed up with a maiden Ashes hundred at Trent Bridge, sealed the series with a marathon five-wicket haul at The Oval, and embarked on a 17-hour bender culminating in an open-top bus parade through the streets of London.

By now, he was a global superstar to bracket alongside Sachin Tendulkar or Shane Warne, but arguably his finest hour of all was the manner in which he stepped into the breach as England's captain, on an injury-plagued tour of India the following spring. Leading from the front magnificently, he grabbed 11 wickets and scored five fifties in six innings, as England defied the odds to draw the series 1-1.

In July 2006 he underwent surgery on his left ankle, missing the Test and one-day series against Pakistan but, recovering ahead of schedule, was named England's captain for the Ashes in 2006-07. But even his supreme ability wasn't enough as his batting faded under pressure and the troublesome ankle required further injections through the series. His demeanour after the 5-0 thumping was in stark contrast to the beer-fuelled celebrations 16 months earlier, although he atoned in part by leading England to a surprise victory in the subsequent one-day CB Series, after being handed back the captaincy by the injured Michael Vaughan.

Being back in the ranks for the World Cup did nothing to improve his form with the bat, but Flintoff's time in the Caribbean will be remembered for one incident - capsizing a pedalo in the sea in St Lucia following England's defeat to New Zealand. As a result he was dropped for the next game against Canada and stripped of the vice-captaincy. He continued to pound away with the ball, but his efforts with the bat became embarrassing.

By the end of the World Cup he appeared broken and exhausted and missed the start of England's international summer.

Strange Innovations- Cricket World

Today we search through the kitbag of history to find a collection of eccentricities and innovations...........

The Aluminium Bat

Few innovations have been quite so cynical - and quite so short lived. Dennis Lillee and a friend called Graham Monoghan decided there was money to be made in selling bats made of aluminium. They were cheaper than their traditional wooden cousins and more likely to irritate the opposition too. When Lillee walked out to resume his innings against England at Perth in 1979-80, he was armed with metal. He had already used the ComBat against West Indies, when he made a duck. Now Mike Brearley protested. A stand-off ensued, which ended with Lillee hurling the bat towards the pavilion and the lawmakers stipulating that it was wood only from now on. ComBat sales plummeted.

The Skull Cap

There was tittering at the back when the 35-year-old Mike Brearley opted to face the Aussies in 1977 sporting a strange contraption that sat under his cap and protected his temples with two fang-like pieces of plastic. Trouble was, it kept slipping. "Oi, Brearley, why don't you fix it on with a six-inch nail," shouted a Trent Bridge wag. The only nails applied that summer, however, were to Australia's coffin: England won 3-0.

The Colored Hat

Hard to believe but in June 1973 Barry Richards walked out to open Hampshire's innings with Gordon Greenidge during a John Player League match against Sussex at Portsmouth's United Services Recreation Ground holding a bright orange bat. Essentially a marketing ploy, it prompted Graham Roope to threaten to use a blue version at the forthcoming Lord's Test against New Zealand. MCC stepped in swiftly.

The Crash Helmet

Dennis Amiss went further than Brearley by lining up for World Series Cricket in 1977-78 with an Evel Knievel-style crash helmet, produced - less glamorously - by a company in Birmingham and made of fibreglass with a polycarbonate visor. It could, said Amiss, "take a double-barrel shotgun from 10 paces", which sounded a touch paranoid. Calls for a quick single were occasionally obscured by the helmet's bulk - run-outs were not uncommon - but Amiss set a trend, even if the helmet was soon replaced by more streamlined models.

The Scoop Bat

First brought on to the market in 1974, the Gray-Nicolls 'Scoop' - lighter than traditional bats but with a larger sweet spot and thicker edges - was a big hit with international batsmen until the early 1980s. The scoop faded from view as the trend moved towards railway-sleeper bulk and brute force. But it enjoyed a mid-'90s revival in the hands of Brian Lara, who used it to score first-class cricket's only quintuple century. While the single scoop beloved of David Gower is consigned to history, many of Gray-Nicolls' contemporary bat models feature two or four scoops on the back.

The Unbuttoned Shirt

The good old Viyella shirt - part wool, part cotton - allowed the sartorial rebel to roll up his sleeves and undo the front to give the chest an airing. Keith Miller was never shy; nor was Richie Benaud. But a trickle became a trend under Ian Chappell's 1970 Australians, who were matched all the way for navel-baring by Wayne Daniel. The buttons disappeared at the start of the 1980s, leaving cricketers to concentrate on their hair-dos instead.

The Mittens

Essentially a pair of small, white boxing gloves, the mittens were first modelled by that innovator par excellence Tony Greig, who wore them during the 1975 World Cup. The thinking was that the greater surface area helped absorb any impact and thus provided more protection to the fingers, and they quickly caught on, with Clive Lloyd wearing them during West Indies' tour of England in 1976. Nowadays no self-respecting batsman would be seen dead in them.

The Shoulderless Bat

Presumably the theory was that, if you possessed shoulders like Lance Cairns, you hardly needed them on your bat. Cairns's shoulderless willow made by Newbery - known as an Excalibur but more often compared to a caveman's club - was responsible for two of the most frightening pieces of hitting in the last 30 years. At the Hutt Recreation Ground near Wellington in 1979-80 Cairns crashed 110 from No. 9 (Evan Gray: 4-0-50-1) to turn Otago's score of 48 for 8 into 173 all out. The next-best score was 14. Three years later, in a one-day international at Melbourne, he launched into a 21-ball half-century, including six sixes in 10 balls.

The Inverted Flowerpot

Floppy sunhats were de rigueur in the 1970s but Jack Russell kept the fashion alive until his retirement in 2004. The Russell version, described by his at times exasperated captain Mike Atherton as a "flowerpot of a thing", bespoke pure eccentricity. Only his wife, Aileen, was allowed to patch it up (he had been wearing the same one since his first-class debut in 1981), and he irritated the England management by refusing to wear an official coloured cap during a one-day series in South Africa. Compromise was reached when Russell agreed to sew on the England emblem. It was an emotional moment.

The Hand-me-Down pads

International cricketers tend to prefer using their own gear but a 14-year-old Sachin Tendulkar was hardly going to say no when Sunil Gavaskar bequeathed him a pair of his ultra-light pads. "It was the greatest source of encouragement for me," he said nearly 20 years later after passing Gavaskar's top world record of 34 Test centuries. Passed from one Little Master to another, the pads became part of the legend of Tendulkar.

The MCC Colours

The last time the England touring team wore the bacon-and-egg colours of the Marylebone Cricket Club was on the 1996-97 tour of New Zealand, although they had stopped referring to themselves as MCC 20 years earlier. The club's colour had been sky blue for about a century after its foundation in 1787 but changed for reasons that remain unconfirmed. One theory is that MCC adopted the red and yellow of Nicholson's gin after the company's owner, William Nicholson, secured the club's position at Lord's with a loan. Gin and MCC? Surely not...