England Tread Well for Wright Result

Big Harvey reports on another thrilling England game with a compelling account on a not to easy proccess of making the game.

Trains in Bangladesh often sell out, so I thought it prudent to go along to Chittagong Station a couple of days in advance to get my ticket for the first leg of my journey back down to Chennai, which I was planning to do entirely by train.

The signs are all in Bangla script, so I had no idea which window to go to, but the woman at an empty window I tried in order to enquire spoke English and directed me to Window Number 2. I happened to have a 2 Taka note in my pocket, so I was able to work out what a “2” looks like in Bangla script, and joined an orderly queue of about a dozen people. Within seconds, much to my surprise, I was waved straight to the front of the queue where I handed written details of my requirements to the clerk. On checking, he apologised and said there was no availability on that train, but if I returned at 9 am the following day, he might be able to help me.

I did so, and was once again immediately waved to the front of the line. The clerk made several calls on a mobile phone, and after 10 minutes or so I had my ticket! I can only assume there must be some kind of VIP or foreign tourist quota on certain Bangladesh trains. I thanked the clerk and apologised to all the people who had just wasted 10 minutes of their lives due to me being waved in front of them, but they all smiled, and not one of them looked even mildly pissed off. Bangladesh really was going out of its way to make us feel welcome.

The train to Dhaka's Kamlapur Station left at 7 am the morning after the Bangladesh game, and because of the intensity of the previous day's experience, I'd had very little sleep. I was in a comfy seat though, which reclined, and I was able to shut my eyes for a few minutes at a time. My plan was to spend the night in Dhaka, and get the onward train in the morning to Kolkata, assuming it wasn't full, which it never is, apparently. The fact that at both ends you can only buy a one way ticket from the city the train starts from, and even then only from a single ticket window located  miles from the station the train leaves from, might go a long way towards explaining why!

The process was straightforward enough, and I spent a very pleasant evening marvelling at the absolute chaos on Dhaka's streets, and heeding the advice of guidebooks and the Foreign and Commonwealth Office to “avoid political gatherings and demonstrations.” This was not as easy as it sounds, since there seemed to be a political gathering with someone ranting and raving into a megaphone on every other street corner, and when I found it much easier than usual to cross the usually gridlocked Topkhana Road on my way to my favourite sweet shop, I soon saw the reason why, as a large and very angry-looking demonstration was heading straight towards me!

I was up bright and early – or rather dark and early – for the half hour taxi ride to the rather obscure and mosquito-infested Dhaka Cantonment Station, from where the Maitree Express to Kolkata was to leave. Even at 6 am the traffic was not flowing freely, but I'd allowed plenty of time, having been advised to get there an hour before departure time to allow for pre-boarding airport-style security checks.

The 10 hour journey time allows for 2-3 hours at the India-Bangladesh border. The process was altogether far more civilized than it had been by bus, and perfectly straightforward. The Bangladeshi official looked at my passport as if it was from Mars, and took it to show his boss. He was back within two minutes though, and stamped it without comment. There was even a dodgy money changer, who turned my remaining Bangladeshi Taka into Indian Rupees through the bars of a fence.

I spent a couple of nights in Kolkata, but the day I'd set aside for sightseeing was a Monday, on which day it turned out the museums and the Victoria Memorial which I'd particularly wanted to see are unfortunately closed! There was still more than enough to see and experience in this great city though, and I definitely hope to spend a few days exploring it some time in the future. It was only the prospect of watching India v England at Eden Gardens that persuaded me to book in the first place, but with the game having been shifted to Bangalore by the ICC, the closest I got to this great ground was a walk around the perimeter.

Not exactly the Garden of Eden

The next day saw me checking out of my cheapo hotel and making my way over the the mighty Hooghly River on the ferry to Kolkata's vast Howrah Junction Train Station for the 28 hour journey on The Coromandal Express down to Chennai. I'd allowed myself an hour to find my train, and it took me well over half an hour to do so. The departure screen said “Platform 0.” Is there such a platform as “0,” as I'm pretty sure there is at at least one British station, or does it just mean the train hasn't arrived yet and they don't want to commit themselves to a platform until it does? At the enquiry window a number of Indians as well as me were asking that very question, and I got directed to Platform 22. The only trouble was that I could only find Platforms 1-15, and nothing higher than that was signposted anywhere!

Ferry Across the Houghly

Eventually I found an English-speaking railway official who was able to help, and she directed me to what was pretty much a separate station, a couple of hundred yards away, dealing mainly with trains of the South Eastern Railway, such as mine. The journey was uneventful and the train arrived in Chennai bang on time.

I recall from earlier in my trip the first time I stayed in Chennai. I was only in transit, and headed for the area around Egmore Station, and in particular Kennet Lane, which has a number of cheap hotels. I was suffering from an upset stomach and so wanted the comforts of a more mid-range type of hotel than the very basic budget ones I normally go for. The first one I tried only had its most expensive room available, which at nearly £30 per night was slightly out of my league. I therefore went to seek out the next one on my list, The Hotel Ashoka. The Hotel Ashoka wasn't on Kennet Lane itself, but was not too far away from there.

The name Kennet Lane conjures up images of a quiet narrow road in rural Berkshire, winding its way through idyllic lush, green meadows to the banks of a chalk stream populated by barbel and dace, where the only sounds are bird song, the hum of insects, and the mooing of the cows.  

Kennet Lane in Chennai does have its share of cows, although these certainly don't feed on lush green grass. They feed on vegetable waste thrown into the street by the holders of stalls and the owners of restaurants, supplemented by scraps of cardboard and newspaper. There are plenty of  insects too, especially flies, and when evening falls there are mosquitoes too, although any hum they make is drowned out by the Crazy Frog jingle-type sound of the ubiquitous tuk-tuk engines, snatches of Hindi music, and the “Hello Sir” shouts of stallholders, shopkeepers, and auto-rickshaw, taxi, hotel, and souvenir shop touts. It also leads to water, although this water is not that of a flowing chalk stream, but a large, stagnant puddle fed by an overflowing underground sewer, which is either partially blocked or simply operating at well above the capacity it was designed for.

Taxi?

By the time I reached the Hotel Ashoka, acute abdominal cramps pretty much dictated that I would have to stay there regardless of what kind of rooms they had to offer. Unfortunately the type of rooms they had to offer were no better than where I'd been staying previously on my trip and at three times the price! Literally the only “advantage” they offered was air conditioning, and normally I'm  happy with just a ceiling fan in any case. Switching on the A/C, I was greeted by the roar of a jet turbine, although judging by the loud rattles and vibrations this particular metaphorical jet turbine must have been borrowed from a grounded Qantas A380. The phone rang, and it was the manager asking for my passport. At least I was able to establish that once I'd switched the A/C off and was able to hear him!

oh dear

With its bare rooms, doors and frames showing the tell-tale signs of having been forced open repeatedly with crowbars, grubby, unplastered concrete walls, filthy curtains, dodgy plumbing, peeling paintwork, bad TV reception, and a host of other shortcomings normally only associated with much cheaper places, the Hotel Ashoka very much lived up to its name. It was a shocker.

Anyway, enough of digressions - since I wasn't staying there this time – and on to the game, which England had to win in order to avoid an early exit from the tournament.

England won the toss and elected to bat. There were three changes from the side beaten in Chittagong, with Wright, Tredwell, and Tremlett replacing the injured Shahzad and the out-of sorts Anderson and Collingwood. The Windies were giving a debut to the leg-spinner Bishoo, who was playing instead of Chanderpaul. The pitch even from the upper tier of the East Stand looked dry, dusty, and grassless.

The Windies opened with the pace of Roach and the left arm spin of Benn. Strauss and Prior started  cautiously, but had stepped things up, with Strauss pulling Darren Sammy for 6 over square leg in the previous over, and England looking nicely poised when Prior (21) was bowled middle stump off the inside edge playing half forward to a shortish one from Andre Russell. 48-1 off 9.1 overs. If the Windies thought this would lead to a slowing of the run rate however, they were to be mistaken. Trott took 3 boundaries off the remainder of the over, leaving the score at 60-1 after 10.

Trott was playing beautifully, racing to 26 of just 9 deliveries without an ugly slog in sight! Unfortunately Strauss (31) at the other end tried to get in on the act and skied a catch to Gale at mid wicket to give Russell his second scalp. 79-2 off 11.5.

The 16^th over saw the introduction of the diminutive Bishoo into the attack, and he immediately impressed in what were favourable conditions. His first international scalp was a vital one in the shape of Trott (47), who must have been caught in two minds by a ball that turned, and could only pat it tamely to short mid wicket. 121-3 off 22 overs.

At the 25 over mark, England were 132-3, with Bishoo finding turn and Pollard managing to keep it tight, thus creating a useful period of pressure for the Windies. Pollard was replaced after 26 overs by Roach, and I turned to comment to my friend Steve that I thought this was a useful bowling change, only for Bell's off-stump to to go cartwheeling before I'd even finished my sentence! He had made 27, England 134-4 off 26.1.

In the next over, Morgan (7) joined the procession, reverse sweeping Bishoo straight into the Windies keeper, Thomas's waiting gloves. 135-5, and the wheels were coming loose. In the 33^rd over, with the bogged-down Bopara (4 off 16 deliveries) lost his off-stump to Russell, and they were off completely. 151-6 off 32.2, and it was hard to see how England would be able to pull this one out of the hat.

Instead of pressing home the advantage though, the Windies who up until now had looked a surprisingly tight and disciplined unit began to look a bit sloppy and careless. There were a few wides and even overthrows to keep the scoreboard ticking over, and it allowed Luke Wright to get a start. The left-hand/right-hand combination of Wright and Tredwell was working well, with Tredwell nudging singles, and Wright punishing the bad balls when they came.

It all looked too good to be true, and of course it was, as Tredwell (9) was guilty of ball-watching in a stupid run-out off what should have been an easy single. 192-7 off 39.2.

Wright was still there though, and managed a few boundaries before being caught on the mid wicket boundary trying to sweep Bishoo for 44. 216-8 off 43.4. Bishoo finished with figures of 3-34 with no wides or no-balls conceded. A fine effort.

Swann (8) kept Bresnan company until a big swipe at Russell lost him his middle stump. 238-9 off 47.1.

England were all out for 243 off 48.4 overs when Tremlett (3) dollied a Roach bouncer through to the keeper, leaving Bresnan stranded on 20. Not a great total, but something to bowl at. Once again England had failed to last 50 overs, but it was only down to the efforts of Wright and the tail - especially Bresnan - that England had given themselves any chance at all.

Roach bowled extremely well for his 2-34 off 9.4, and Russell's 4-wicket haul off 8 overs was also noteworthy, even if I do regard his occasional tactic of making as if to pull out of his run-up before delivering the ball normally as nothing less than cheating.

Steve went to check on the food and drink situation and found some very pleasant mango-flavoured stuff called “Slice,” which was cool if not actually cold, and some “American cream and onion” flavoured crisps. Clearly “sour cream” in India is simply cream that's gone off.

England rather surprisingly opened the bowling with Bresnan. We were expecting Tremlett. More predictably Swann was at the other end.

We didn't have to wait long for Tremlett, though, since Gayle took 18 runs off Bresnan's second over! Incredibly though the carnage was repeated, with another 18 coming off Tremlett's first over, and he too would have to wait a while before being given another. With the game already being taken away from England Tredwell joined the conveyor belt, and provided the vital breakthrough, trapping Gayle LBW. His 43 had taken just just 21 deliveries. 58-1 off 6.5 overs. The decision was reviewed but thankfully upheld.

In the 9^th over, Devon Smith (10) was stumped off Tredwell, even if the 3^rd umpire briefly pressed the  wrong button, causing the screen to say Not Out!  67-2 off 9, and England were back in the game.

Tredwell was bowling out of his skin, and in the 13th over rounded off a wicket maiden with the scalp of Darren Bravo, caught by Strauss at slip for 5. 91-3 off 13, and it was anyone's game.

Sammy brought the 100 up with a huge 6 off Tredwell's next over though (101-3 off 14.1 overs). He was scoring rapidly as Gayle had done, and looking a serious threat. Incredibly though, when Bopara - who had bowled complete rubbish in Chittagong - came on after a drinks break, he claimed the scalp of Sammy with his first ball, as the batsman chopped onto his own stumps! A vital and (to England fans) unexpected breakthrough.

In fact, after 2 overs, Bopara had figures of 1-4! I commented that just as dry, dusty, grassless pitches offer help to the spinners, perhaps there was something in the atmospheric conditions here – the miasma rising from The Buckingham Canal perhaps – that favoured purveyors of part-time slow medium pace filth. Certainly the nasty niff that had been largely kept at bay by a pleasant breeze was now hanging heavy in the night air.

I may have been on to something, because Bopara's next over was a wicket maiden in which Thomas (9) fell in near identical circumstances to Sammy. 118-5 off 19.4, and big trouble for the Windies.

The scoring rate was drying up now, although the rate at which runs had already been scored meant there was no urgency. They really only needed to nudge, nurdle, and rotate the strike, and they ought to get there easily. Sarwan may be the type of batsman to do that, but it's not Pollard's way, and it was he who eventually began to cut loose. In the 25^th over, Bopara dropped him on the boundary off Swann. It wasn't to prove too costly however, as in the 28^th over after a change back to his usual end, Swann pinned him LBW for 24, a decision upheld on review (the Windies 2^nd failed review), and at 150-6, the target looked a long way off, especially with the Windies having gone into the game with an extra bowler.

Andre Russell however, like Gayle and Sammy before him, took a liking to the bowling of the hapless Tremlett, and was also in no mood to nudge and nurdle. He continued his assault on the other bowlers, and had taken the score over 200 when he appeared to have been taken on the boundary by Trott off Swann. It was very tight to the rope though, and despite (I'm told) no conclusive evidence that Trott had come into contact with the rope, 6 was awarded.

It really was head-in-hands time, and England were surely going home. Russell was finally pinned LBW by Tredwell for 49, but with only 22 needed off more balls than they knew what to do with, and the nurdler Sarwan still there and with 3 wickets in the bank, all still looked lost. Tredwell had no more overs left, and Swann only one.

Bopara's next over leaked only a single, and it was time for what was surely the last throw of the dice, namely Swann's final over. And what an over it was! First ball, Sarwan (31) got an inside edge onto his thigh pad, which was snapped up at forward short leg by Bell.

Third ball, Roach skied to mid-off, and the catch was brilliantly taken low to the ground by a diving Tremlett! The crowd – most of who were cheering for England – had learned from recent England games. They hadn't gone home when things were going badly, and were now going crazy. In the space of just 3 balls the game had been turned completely on its head! England were favourites now, but everyone could still see us blowing it, and there was ample time for us to do it, too!

It was not to be however, as the Windies disintegrated under pressure, Benn was run out a few balls later going for a second that was never there if Trott's return from the boundary was a good one. It was, Prior removed the bails, and our joy was unrestrained. Victory by 18 runs, and England's World Cup hopes still alive!

Fantastic bowling from Swann once again, Tredwell made excellent use of helpful conditions to finish with figures of 4-48, and Bopara was a revelation, turning in figures of 2-22 off his 8.4 overs. 

The cricket-loving public of Chennai must love hosting England.

The last Test we played there was a classic, so was the South Africa World Cup match what seems like an age ago, and now this.

When I booked this trip, never in my wildest imagination would I have thought I was going to see six totally unforgettable and epic matches, but every single one of them has provided unexpected twists, and entertainment of the highest quality.

Tours of the subcontinent are always a challenge, and you usually get royally messed about, with maddening bureaucracy, and moving goalposts at every turn. With the ICC involved in the equation, this tour was always going to be even worse than usual in these respects, and indeed it was!

On top of that, you often get sick. The noise, chaos, air pollution, culture shock, and pesky touts trying to lead you astray combine to create a full-blooded assault on the senses.

However despite all this, the few of us who did go really did have the time of our lives. I was well served by both Indian and Bangladesh Railways, with the only train of my entire trip arriving significantly late being one that was booked to arrive in Kolkata at 4 am, but which actually arrived closer to the much more civilised and convenient time of 6 am! Those who flew – particularly to Chittagong - were mostly not so fortunate with regard to travel delays. From what I can make out, those who were suggesting I was mad for doing the whole thing overland had a much more stressful – and of course expensive - time of it than I did.

Although I'm not normally a great fan of one day cricket, I feel privileged to have seen six of the finest ODI's ever played, and the memories of my month out here will be with me forever. I reckon those who cancelled their trip when the India v England game was moved from Eden Gardens will be regretting their decision, and they certainly should be. The noise and atmosphere at the India game in Bangalore were incredible, and as for those Bangladesh victory celebrations in Chittagong...

I'm heading for home now, and of course depending on results, England could still be following me. If they do though, it will seem like rough justice indeed after breathing such life into the World Cup and the 50-over game generally. My friend Steve is planning on following England all the way to the final, the only person I met out here with such plans. The intransigent and inflexible attitude of the Indian authorities over visas and the fact that all but a tiny handful of tickets for the final have been distributed to India's privileged elite and their friends has made this logistically nigh on impossible, but he's having a go. Let's hope he gets the chance!

Scoreboard celebrates Strauss becoming the tournament's top scorer (he was overtaken by Trott later)

Sunset over the stadium

Celebrating with the Hackney Gas flag (flag is technically a resident of Middlesex) on its 10th anniversary tour

Harvey with "Cheap" Steve in the bar after the game