The CricInfo Years 2000-01

 

The speed of the communications revolution around the turn of the century was astonishing. In 1997 it was potted scores in the stop press. By 2000 satellite TV was bringing us games from across the globe and I was clicking instantaneous news of cricket in New Zealand by return. The contrast between the twentieth and twenty-first centuries could not have been sharper. 

It emerged that CricInfo was to set up an operation in New Zealand with a good slice of funding from New Zealand Cricket, who were concerned at the decline of press coverage and did not want to miss out on the dotcom explosion. Lynn McConnell, one of New Zealand’s most renowned sports journalists, was appointed New Zealand editor. I let him know about my recent work for CricInfo and that I was available throughout the summer. In return I received an offer of 20 (later increased to 24) days’ work as a reporter, filling in across the middle of the North Island when nobody more reputable was available. The pay was $150 a day, which was ok for 25 years ago, with generous expenses for overnight stays and mileage.  

There were two CricInfo representatives at each fixture. As the reporter my job was to write a series of up-to-the-minute reports through the day. For a first-class game this would be a morning preview followed by reports at all drinks breaks, lunch, tea and the close, with a wrap on the day to follow embellished by a few quotes from coaches and/or players. This was demanding, but easy compared to the ball-by-ball scorer, who had to record and briefly describe each delivery, a heroic feat of concentration over a full day. I was fortunate to work mostly with Gareth Bedford and a Canterbury University student called Dean, whose surname I can’t remember. Both were extremely capable and very good company. One day Gareth went a bit quiet, and in response to enquiries revealed that he was live scoring not only the game we were working on in Hamilton, but also the one in Dunedin, 1200km away. I began to suspect that scorers were recruited from another planet of superior lifeforms. Few of the live reports survive. Here is one, from a 50-over game.

Cricket Max was to T20 what Cro Magnon Man is to Homo Sapiens, though Australopithecus might be a more appropriate comparison, given its southern hemisphere origins. It was the invention of Martin Crowe at the behest of the new Sky TV company here in New Zealand. The network wanted some cricket to retain subscribers through the oval-ball free summer, and to establish a foothold in the cricket market with an eye to nabbing the rights from TVNZ a few years down the line. 

There has been a recent spike of interest in Cricket Max, with articles in both The Cricketer and The Nightwatchman. Both acknowledge the inspiration it offered for the development of T20. By the time I encountered it, most of the fripperies—the earliest iterations had a fourth stump—had been removed. It was a 20-over game of cricket, but divided into four innings and still with the double-scoring max zone between long on and long off. 

By 2000 Sky had a satellite and the rights to cricket on both sides of the Tasman, so had no further use for Cricket Max. New Zealand Cricket recast it as a curtain-raiser to the season played mostly in small towns. So it was that my career as a professional cricket writer began in the unlikely surrounds of Albert Park, Te Awamutu, a pleasant town in the southern Waikato that has plenty to offer except, on that occasion, a cable long enough to connect the press tent to a phone socket. So once again, I had to speed back to Rotorua to file my reports.

My debut as a reporter providing live updates came a few days later at Rex Morpeth Park, Whakatane, on the Bay of Plenty coast, another town getting its first and last exposure to provincial cricket. CricInfo’s view of the game was through a slit in the wall in the hospitality area of the pavilion. Despite the testing surroundings I managed to file a report within seconds of the end of each innings and felt quite pleased with my efforts until I discovered that I had missed a hat trick. In my defence, everybody else had missed it too, including the scorers (who found it during their post-match checks) and the bowler himself, Simon Doull. It was spread over the two innings, effective camouflage in the frenetic surrounds of Max. Doull also registered a king pair, all within three hours. 

That summer I reported from six other locations around the North Island. The ground I spent most time at was Seddon Park (then WestPac Park), Hamilton, Northern’s HQ. It had the best media facilities, with a press room with a great view of play, and a fridge with an endless supply of refreshments. Not only was I paid to watch and write about the cricket, I was also given a free lunch everywhere. It was what heaven must be like. 

At first, the presence of we amateurs in the press box was greeted with polite suspicion by the professional journalists, but we were accepted once we showed that we could do a reasonable job. The two reporters with whom we shared the Seddon Park press box most often were Terry Maddaford of the New Zealand Herald and Ian Anderson of the Waikato Times. Newcomers were invited to guess the date on which Terry had last not gone for a run. It was sometime in the early 60s. “What happens if you get a cold?” someone once asked. “I go running everyday so I don't get colds” was the reply.

It was in Hamilton that I reported on first-class cricket for the first time, in what was called the Shell Trophy, the Plunket Shield with a whiff of the forecourt about it. Auckland were the visitors. The national team were in South Africa, losing all but one of the six ODIs and one of the three tests, but there were plenty of familiar names left at home, careers in ascent or decline, Lou Vincent, Dion Nash, Doull and Bruce Martin among them. 

Only the report on the second day appears to be accessible. I made full use of ongoing disputes about who had actually won the 2020 US presidential election.

This was a day so tense and full of unexpected twists and turns that it would have been no surprise had Al Gore turned up to demand a recount…With thirteen wickets having fallen on the first day the batsmen had as much trust in the pitch as in a Florida election official. 

Who would have thought then that we would come to feel nostalgic about the presidency of George W Bush? 

I also covered domestic four-day games at Owen Delany Park in Taupo and at McLean Park in Napier. The latter, between Central and Northern, was the best contest I reported on in the Shell Trophy that season. The daily wraps are here (but the scorecard and heading that it is under relate to a different match altogether: the CricInfo archive is chaotic). Central’s Craig Spearman made chasing 290—by 70 the highest total of the match—look simple. 80 of his 90 came in boundaries. On his day Spearman looked a world beater as Gloucestershire supporters were later to discover.

At the conclusion of that match I drove to New Plymouth on the other side of the North Island to cover a four-day game between the under-19 teams of New Zealand and South Africa, the final contest of a three-match series. The venue was Pukekura Park, quite the most beautiful cricket ground I have ever seen. On three sides there are grass mounds shaped like ziggurats with room for just one row of seats on each level. The fourth is open, giving a view of the Tasman Sea, which generally has the aesthetic decency to shimmer with a deep blue hue. If ever a cricket ground deserved a pavilion with a thatched roof it is this one, but its only disappointment is the nondescript building that serves this function. Happily, we were stationed therein, so did not have to suffer a view of it to spoil the idyll.

New Zealand’s captain was one Brendon McCullum. This was my first look at a player who became one of my favourite cricketers. My report on the first day shows that I liked what I saw, but as McCullum had scored a century in each of the first two games of the series and repeated the feat here, it did not require profound insight to identify his promise. What impressed me most about McCullum’s innings here was not his aggressive strokeplay but his reaction to getting out for exactly 100. It was reasonable to expect that a young cricketer who had just made his third international century in three games might return to the rooms sporting a satisfied grin at the very least, but McCullum was furious, his ire directed only at himself for giving it away.

Ross Taylor was in the New Zealand XI, at sixteen, three years younger than most of the rest. He knew scorer Dean, so spent a bit of time with us and impressed with his composure. The other big star of the future in this game was Hashim Amla, who completed his third half-century of the series. My assessment: “Amla is a fluent timer of the ball and particularly strong on the off side” was on point, but again no more than a statement of the obvious.

The second and third days of the match were washed away by the rain. A family of ducks moved from its pond to deep mid-wicket as it was wetter there. I had several chats with the South African coach Hylton Ackerman, who was gratified that I remembered him playing for Northamptonshire and the International Cavaliers in the sixties. With Ackerman’s approval I turned these conversations into a feature.

I also covered three ODIs between the two teams, two at Owen Delany Park and one at Eden Park No 2 in Auckland. I was again impressed by Hashim Amla:

 

But it was the batting of 17-year-old Amla that really took the eye. He seems to have the right shot for every delivery and all the time in the world to play. His fielding is somewhat short of the rigorous standards demanded by the modern game, but if he has the temperament to go to the top, he surely has the class.

There was a flash of Bazball too:

 

McCullum threw it away by hitting Botha straight to Zondeki at mid off. His 44 came from 23 balls, and included six fours and two sixes. McCullum's innings was glorious, but his departure meant that a New Zealand batsman was out in the forties for the fifth time in the series.

Most of the players in that series went on to have solid careers in domestic cricket, notably Wellington’s Luke Woodcock. A few, besides those previously mentioned, performed well on the international stage, intermittently, at least: Ian Butler, Jesse Ryder, Johan Botha (then a notably ill-tempered quick bowler; the transformation into a dodgy-actioned spinner came later)  and Monde Zondeki. For a few, this was their zenith, though Taraia Robin can be satisfied that he was the inspiration for my best headline: “Batsmen and Robin Rescue New Zealand”.

In those pre-T20 days it was the 50-over Shell Cup that occupied the holiday weeks of high summer. Northern’s home opener in Hamilton saw CricInfo’s reporter in sardonic mood:

 

In an age when cricket scores and other, less important, information, can go round the world in the blink of an eye, it is amazing that communicating a simple decision over the length of a cricket pitch can sometimes prove so,,  difficult. Yet this was the downfall of Central Districts in Hamilton today, as five batsmen were lost to run outs.

The highlight of this game, and of several others over the next couple of seasons, was the reinvention of Simon Doull as a pinch-hitting opening batter.

The week between Christmas and New Year took us to Blake Park, Mt Maunganui, adjacent to where the Bay Oval now stands. The media facilities here consisted of a truck with one side opened up. I had a dodgy back at the time, and the pained manner in which both I and Radio Sport’s Kevin Hart went about boarding it caused one of our colleagues to claim that they had reported two beached whales to the SPCA.

The first of two games provided controversy for the tyro reporter to sir up. What should have been a brief interruption for rain was prolonged because of a tear in the covers. This meant that play extended into a gloomy evening, causing the umpires to agonise over whether there was threat to life from medium-pace bowling on a slow pitch. Repeated conferences on this matter occupied time in which the game would otherwise have finished, until the Northern batters were finally given the option of going off, an offer that, nine down but ahead on Duckworth/Lewis, they were quick to accept.

The lead umpire (but you have already guessed this) was Billy Bowden, who CricInfo held chiefly responsible for the day’s perplexity. This was the start of 25 years of gentle fun that I have had mocking Billy’s propensity to discover reasons for preventing cricket from being played. The live reports for this game survive. The unusual ending was discussed on Radio Sport the next day, in reaction to which I wrote an opinion piece that was appropriately mocking in tone.

The reporters were expected to embellish the close-of-play wrap with a few quotes from those involved, usually the coaches. This example, from a wet day at Cornwall Park in Hastings, has contributions from Dipak Patel of Central and Tony Sail of Auckland. Patel was always good value, offering honest and interesting views, delivered in a New Zealand accent that suggested he was a born-and-bred Kiwi. Yet fifteen years before I had had  a chat with him in the Bat and Ball Inn opposite the St Lawrence Ground in Canterbury when he spoke with the brogue of the West Midlands in which he was raised. As someone who has tried and failed for almost 30 years to acquire a New Zealand timbre, I remain envious of such linguistic adaptability.

Other coaches were less loquacious and needed a bit of help. For one I adopted the practice of saying “would you agree that” followed by a take on the day’s play. The interviewee would consider this for a few seconds and then say “that sounds about right”. My words would then be attributed to him in the report.

What a summer it was. Being paid to travel round one of the world’s beautiful places to watch and write about cricket with free accommodation and food. My work had been judgesdsufficiently satisfactory for me to be first call for anything south of Auckland and north of Wellington in the following season.

New Zealand v India, first test, Basin Reserve, 21–24 February 2020

Scorecard

This is an account of a test match played little more than a month ago, though it seems now to have been in another time, so much has happened since. To be able to watch cricket at all has become a matter for nostalgia. For us in New Zealand, at least it has come at the end of the season. We lost only a couple of rounds of the Plunket Shield. Let’s acknowledge that to view all this through a cricket lens is to get it badly wrong, but as someone who every year counted down the days until I could first risk April hypothermia on the roof of the Hammond Room in Bristol or elsewhere, I share the loss that county cricket watchers will feel right now.

Many of that group will wonder what county cricket will look like when it returns. Will it emerge with enough money to sustain 18 counties? Will those who seek to undermine the county structure, however much they deny it, ensure that it doesn’t?

For now, here is an account of four pleasant days at the cricket.

First day

The Basin Reserve looked a picture on a sunny morning. For the first time in almost a decade the Museum Stand was open, having been restored and strengthened against earthquakes. It has a new, somewhat unimaginative, name—the Old Pavilion. There is a new pavilion, the players’ area next to the RA Vance Stand. It might kindly be described as functional, though at least it is consistent with the architectural style of Wellington’s sports venues. Down the road, the Cake Tin, here the Bread Bin.

It has a good name though: the Ewen Chatfield Pavilion. In the UK Chatfield is best remembered for having his life saved by Bernard Thomas after edging a Peter Lever delivery onto his temple. Here, he is regarded as the quintessential New Zealand cricketer, military medium into the wind, setting the batsmen up for Richard Hadlee at the other end. Chatfield is still seen at the Basin whenever he can spare the time from driving his taxi. He retired from club cricket just last year, 51 years after his debut for the same club. He didn’t tell his Naenae Old Boys teammates until after the game that it was his last, as he didn’t want to draw attention to himself.

New Zealand won the toss—a novelty of itself at the Basin—and put India in on a pitch that had the browny-green hue of a stagnant pond. But the customary first-morning handouts were not on offer, nor did the pitch enter its usual coma after lunch. This was the best test pitch I have seen at the Basin, “best” not in the misused sense of being easy to bat on, but providing a balance between bat and ball. Throughout, there was assistance for the quicker bowlers, but it required work and skill to find it; there was bounce too, enough to test the batsmen. Ashwin even found some turn out of the footmarks; whether that would have developed into anything significant on the last day and a half, we will never know. It was a thousand times better than the dead tracks on which the England series was played.

There were six changes from the XI that I saw beaten in Sydney at the beginning of January. Williamson, Nicholls and Boult returned from illness and injury. Spinners Somerville and Astle made way for Ajaz Patel’s slow-left-arm (Sydney turned out to be Astle’s last first-class appearance—he announced his retirement soon thereafter). Pace bowler Kyle Jamieson made his test debut after impressing in the 50-over side. And Tim Southee returned. Southee’s omission from the XI at Sydney is one of New Zealand cricket’s great mysteries, our version of the disappearance of Agatha Christie in 1926. Watch out for a Dr Who episode entitled The Mysterious Dropping of Southee in a few years’ time. Neil Wagner was absent, supporting his wife as their first child was born. Matt Henry was omitted; he is slipping down the pecking order of New Zealand quick bowlers.

Prithvi Shaw and Mayank Agarwal opened for India. Twenty-year-old  Shaw could be the next big thing, but may never be good enough to deal with the sort of delivery that he received from Southee, which swung very late and hit the top of off.

Kyle Jamieson becomes New Zealand’s tallest test cricketer at six foot eight, topping Peter Fulton by a couple of inches. Like Tom Blundell, Jamieson has looked promising in domestic cricket without demanding an international place, but when given the opportunity looks as if he belongs there. Few players have pure talent in such quantity as to guarantee success at the highest level. For most, it comes down to how well they adapt to the challenges it presents. Jamieson relishes them. Barring statistical anomalies, have any other bowler’s first two test victims had a combined test batting average of more than 100?

Jamieson’s accurate off-stump line and tall-man’s bounce had induced diffidence in Pujara, and when a full-length ball straightened more sharply it found the edge to be caught by Watling. Kohli started aggressively, but in Jamieson’s next over edged another full-length delivery to Taylor at first slip.

Agarwal and Rahane took the innings well past luncheon (as I will continue to call it in tribute to John Woodcock), showing that the pitch was not combustable. It was misjudgement rather than movement that ended the partnership when Agarwal top-edged a pull to be caught at fine leg off Boult. Vihari became the third victim of Jamieson’s probing off-stump line. Progress was slow, with only 43 runs added in 27 overs during the afternoon session.

Rain came during the interval. Visiting crews in next year’s America’s Cup contest could usefully acclimatise themselves to New Zealand’s vigorous winds by doing a spell on the groundstaff at the Basin, some of whom might have been swept up over Mount Victoria while clinging onto the large groundsheet that serves as the primary covers. There was no further play; India finished the day on 122 for five.

Second day

The start of play each day was at 11 30, just as it used to be when I was a lad. However, unlike then, play here did not end at 6 30, giving us time to march briskly down the Old Dover Road to catch the 6 45 bus home. It sprawled on, not knowing quite how to end, like the Hobbit films made by Peter Jackson at the studios just down the road. The time lost yesterday was added on at the end of the day, rather than to the beginning, as was the case in the England series. This is because Indian TV wants it that way. There should be no complaint about this; the rights to this series will go a long way to keeping New Zealand cricket going for the next few years. The T20s had begun at 8pm, and that at the Cake Tin didn’t finish until gone midnight, after the losing super over that now seems obligatory for New Zealand. Some people who went didn’t get home until past 1 30am, yet were still in their seats for the first ball of the domestic one-day game at the Basin the following morning. Heroes.

Rishabh Pant resumed for India. He had been unusually subdued on the first day, but today he put the fourth ball of the morning in the food court next to the main stand.

Ajaz Patel was the bowler, on just to allow Southee to change ends. It was his third over, and last of the innings. He bowled the same number in the second innings, a reflection of how well the quicker bowlers bowled here. He was dropped for the second test, thanks partly to the poor record of spinners at Hagley Park. Also, de Grandhomme performs the holding and control role that is usually that of the spinner. The all-rounder’s 11 overs on the first day had cost only 12 runs.

However, Patel’s influence on events was not at an end. Rahane pushed a ball from Southee into the offside and set off for a sharp single. Pant took three paces down the pitch, then stopped. Rahane hesitated, but carried on. Patel, moving square from cover point, should have thrown the ball to Watling who was sprinting towards the stumps with plenty of time to take the bails off before Pant got there. Instead, Patel went for glory, and hit the one stump he had to aim at.

Pant’s selection as keeper was criticised by Harsha Bhogle as taking India down the well-trodden road of going for the better batsmen over the artisan keeper, Wriddhiman Saha in this case. Farokh Engineer agreed that Saha is the better gloveman but thought that the selectors were right to go for Pant as a package, the same reasoning having accounted for a good proportion of his own 46 test caps. Pant kept wicket well here.

Ashwin’s dismissal by Southee, was to a ball every bit as good as the one that dismissed Shaw. It was Ashwin’s first ball, but if it had been his two hundredth he would have stood no more chance of keeping it out.

Southee and Jamieson finished the innings off efficiently, both ending with four wickets. India’s total was 165 and would have been less but for Shami’s late-order slogging.

Now for something that I have been looking forward to for a few years: the chance to watch Jasprit Bumrah bowl. Bumrah’s run up resembles that of your aunty on her annual spell on the sands at Skegness, before turning into something wonderful as he passes the umpire. Like Lasith Malinga, Bumrah would never have survived a regimented academy system; he is a celebration of dissidence.

Tom Blundell continues to impress in his surprise role as a test opener, which he approached so seriously here that he did not get off the mark until the seventh over. There were a few false shots, and he was a little fortunate that balls that might have been caught landed in space, but he remained unfazed, an attribute for a batsman at the top of the order. He was still in when the spinner came on, always a sign (in New Zealand, at least) that the opener has done his job. The opening stand had reached 26 when Latham was dismissed somewhat softly, caught behind off a legside flick just after lunch.

Williamson’s first ball bounced steeply and took him on the gloves. That was just about the only false shot he played. He looked in prime touch from then on.

Blundell played around a Sharma inswinger to be bowled for 30 from a self-denying 80 deliveries. This brought in Ross Taylor in his hundredth test match, only the fourth New Zealander to achieve this after Fleming, Vettori and McCullum. What’s more, he became the first cricketer anywhere to notch up a century of international appearances in all three forms. I first came across him when he was a member of the New Zealand Under-19 squad in 2000/1 when I covered part of their series against South Africa for CricInfo. Just 16-years-old, he had scored a half century in each of the first two games, but only managed six when I saw him at New Plymouth and did not much better in the subsequent one-day series. The CricInfo scorer knew Ross quite well so he spent a bit of time with us. He came across as a modest but self-possessed young man, confident enough of his ability not to need to draw attention to it. The level-headedness has enabled him to make the most of the ability, and could be felt in the warmth of his welcome to the field as he came out to bat. Seven-thousand runs also helps, of course.

Two of his trademark shots came out straightaway. The not-quite-falling-over-push through the legside got him off the mark, then everybody’s favourite, the slog-sweep, nowadays generally reserved for the encore, but on this special day the opening number, putting Ashwin onto the terraces while still in single figures. To show that that he is down there with the kids, Taylor later ramped a boundary off the back of his bat.

The Williamson–Taylor partnership took New Zealand past India’s total for the loss of just two wickets, which was massively therapeutic for those of us who had been in Australia. But without addition Taylor was surprised by Sharma’s pace and gloved a catch to Pujara at backward short leg for 44.

Williamson continued give a reasonable impression of an angel at the crease. Two offside boundaries from one Bumrah over after he had been in for half an hour had the RA Vance Stand purring like a cattery at dinnertime. He was Shakespeare knocking off a sonnet, Rutherford splitting an atom. A century appeared inevitable, but on 89 he got a cover drive slightly wrong and substitute Jadeja took a good diving catch.

Henry Nicholls took 50 deliveries to reach double figures and was out to Ashwin, edging to gully a ball that turned quite sharply. Three of the other wickets fell to Sharma, who bowled splendidly. He has always been quick enough to bother good players but now has added guile. He exploited the extra bounce in this Basin pitch magnificently.

New Zealand were 51 ahead with five wickets standing when the sun disappeared behind the Old Pavilion to bring play to a close 20 minutes early.

Third day

Some test-match traditions are immutable. Picnics in the Harris Memorial Garden at Lord’s; beer snakes at Headingley; the band at Port Elizabeth; Chickie’s disco at the Recreation Ground, Antigua; that on one day of every test match played at the Basin Reserve there will be a southerly that could blast freeze molten lead. Today was that day.

Perhaps the wind had a chilling effect on BJ Watling’s judgement. He followed the first ball of the day from Bumrah—one that he could have been relied upon to leave 99 times out of 100—to be caught by Pant.

With the lead far from decisive and wickets falling fast, home supporters were in need of reassurance. In these circumstances the appearance of Tim Southee is as comforting as setting sail only to discover that the captain is wearing an eyepatch and brandishing a cutlass.

Sure enough, a couple of overs later he glanced a Sharma delivery that was well wide of leg stump straight to Shami at fine leg, possibly leaving the field as a test No 8 for the last time, given the fine performance by Kyle Jamieson that followed. Not many batsmen have hit a six before they are out of double figures in their debut innings as he did. Three more followed, as he showed equal relish for pace and spin. He was caught at long on going for a fifth six that would have taken him to a half century, having written his name on the New Zealand teamsheet in indelible ink.

Jamieson out de Grandhommed de Grandhomme, who was content to take the supporting role and to have the rare experience of watching himself bat. He was out soon after, feathering a legside catch off the glove to the keeper off Ashwin.

I am not generally a fan of music during play, but it would be quite reasonable if the Benny Hill theme were to ring out throughout every Trent Boult innings. He bats as if he hasn’t noticed that the library has given him the tennis coaching book rather than that for cricket. But what an eye he has. The most astonishing shot from a strong field of contenders was a full toss from Shami on middle stump that he clipped to the cover boundary while in retreat towards square leg. Boult made 38 from 24 balls including five fours and a six. New Zealand’s lead was 183.

Shaw looked in good touch with three offside boundaries in the first eight overs, before Boult’s extra bounce surprised him, though it needed a spectacular catch from Latham, stationed at leg gully for precisely that delivery, to complete the dismissal.

Pujara seemed just the man to bring India back into the game with a fighting innings. His defence was solid. De Grandhomme resorted to placing three catching short covers, to no avail. But Pujara couldn’t score. I was put in mind of the great CJ Tavaré at Lord’s in ’84 (and in many other places at many other times, to be fair), existing in a sort of temporal stasis.

Pujara was out to the last ball before tea, symbolically strokeless, leaving alone a Boult delivery angled in from wide of the crease that hit off. He made 11 from 81 balls.

In the final session, 66 runs were scored for the loss of two wickets, which sounds mundane. It was anything but; the cricket was gripping. The wickets were Agarwal, though it needed every bit of the DRS’s technology to confirm Aleem Dar’s caught-behind decision; and, crucially, Kohli, also caught behind, off a thin edge trying to hook Boult.

I had mixed feelings about this. It was a large step towards a home victory, but a cricket fan always wants to see the great players be great. I saw Kohli in his prime… He made a century last time India played at the Basin, but only when the game was dead. Given the punishing programme that Indian cricketers face, he might have been forgiven taking the foot off the pedal on a tour to a quiet corner of the world, but there has not been a second when Kohli has appeared anything other than consumed by his team’s interests. He has had a poor series with the bat, because he cares too much, not too little. The mutual respect and liking between him and Williamson has made for an excellent spirit between the two teams.

Fourth day

The wind had shifted back to a more social direction and was mostly absent; the sky was blue. It reminded me of days at Folkestone at the end of August, when summer had settled into contented, predictable old age.

India were 39 behind with six wickets standing, a good position for New Zealand, but there was anxiety among the Basin faithful. We have often seen recovery from an apparently hopeless position, usually by New Zealand: against India in 2014, Sri Lanka in 2015 and Bangladesh in 2017. We looked at the Indian team listed on the scoreboard and were impressed. There were plenty of runs left, more than that attack might give us.

Such pessimism. The game was over by lunchtime. That this was so was mainly down to the excellence of Boult and Southee, both at the point where physical ability and experience, or science and art, complement each other perfectly. Yesterday, Boult took three of the four wickets. Two of them were from short deliveries, testimony of itself to his skill, given that pace is not his chief weapon.

Boult took his fourth in the third over of the morning. Close enough to off stump to force Rahane to play, it moved just enough to take the edge of the bat.

Southee now took over. He began in the next over by working Vihari over a treat. First, he swung one away. The next one came in, through the gap created between bat and pad by the previous delivery.

Ashwin was leg-before, bringing in Sharma to buckle such swashes as remained. He was dropped twice, by Latham at short leg and Southee at short cover. Neither were difficult, but it didn’t matter. The latter miss was off de Grandhomme, who got the wicket he deserved by when he got Sharma leg-before.

Southee finished off the innings, helped by two brilliant catches, first by Boult at fine leg to dismiss Pant, then substitute Daryl Mitchell at second slip off Bumrah.

Southee finished with five for 61, Boult with four for 39. Richard Hadlee is New Zealand’s greatest bowler by a street, but these two are the outstanding bowling combination, one of the finest in cricket history. This was New Zealand’s 100th test victory, and Southee and Boult have bowled in combination in 28 of them.

Latham and Blundell completed the ten-wicket win without incident.

New Zealand took the second test in Christchurch by seven wickets, Southee and Boult again destroying India’s second innings after even first innings. So New Zealand took India apart after having the same done to them in Australia. What does this tell us about the state of world cricket?

The disadvantage of away teams remains an issue, though India’s preparation was better than most these days with the players not involved in the one-day series playing for India A against New Zealand A in four-day games. Perhaps the World Test Championship should give double points for away wins, though this assumes that anybody takes any notice of that competition which seems to have taken off like a hippo trying paragliding.

New Zealand are back to No 2 in the test rankings, just ahead of Australia and England. They are not scheduled to play tests again until August so are less immediately affected by the hiatus than some countries.

Stay safe, wherever you may be.