MCJ IS NO CMJ

It's always a relief to rediscover a lost copy of Marcus Berkmann's The Rainmen and feel again that instant kinship with cricket-watchers from an era long before England's over-hyped climb to the cricketing summit. Berkmann's book is brutally, but beautifully nostalgic. You can almost hear 'Soul Limbo' by Booker T and the MGs bursting out as he reminds you of the mid-order collapses and routine pastings that haunted English cricket and the BBC's men at the mike who documented all this.

Overbearing Test Match Special devotees always made a point of turning down the TV commentary and pumping up Arlott, Johnston, Swanton, Trueman et al as a point of principle. I am still fairly happy in the company of the their TMS successors, Aggers, Tuffers and naughty but nice Blowers, but do miss some of the TV stalwarts, loving recalled by Bekmann. It's difficult to remember that Jim Laker is 25 years in the grave. I now wince at the bile I directed at the largely harmless, and also long departed,  dome-headed Peter West, but must concur with Uncle Marcus that Jack Bannister was (and still is?) dismally dreary, so too 'Lord' Ted Dexter. 

Sky subscribers can now get all the cricket they want and more, but what the discerning cricket lover, bound by terrestrial constraints, surely wants, is a well-delivered TV highlights package. In the past, this was there, fronted by Richie Benaud, still without peer as a sharp, judicious summariser who tells it like it is. In days of yore, the BBC offered us late night Richie,  the perfect way to round off a night's viewing, particularly if you hadn't followed the days's play and knew nothing of the score.

Sad to say, Channel Five's early evening round-up falls horribly short of Benaud's standards.
The music is truly horrid.  Some years back, Channel Five (or was it Channel Four then?) went for Lou Bega's Mambo Number Five  as its theme music.  Better than Chihuahua perhaps, but I thought this was a paen to tropical bonking, "a little Sandra in the sun...a little Mary all night long" etc, not really what you want when the covers are being brought on again at Trent Bridge. 

Today, we are reminded that "The Time is Now", a message relayed at begining and end, while  trailing and closing the interminable ad breaks, which are full of plodding sponsor plugs and other drivel. Some late night Googling suggests this may be the work of Russell (or Russ??) Ballard, a soft rocker whose efforts have been recorded by Rainbow, the Bay City  Rollers and Frida from Abba. Anyone remember the Phil Collins-produced 'Something going On'?

Viewing figures are on the up, topping 1.5 million, but the message boards are alive with angry punters complaining about the bad timing and serious online deficiencies. Vaughan, Boycott and Hughes are all fine up to a point. It is mein host, M.C.J. Nicholas  you want to hurl bumpers or beamers at. As a CF malcontent pointed out: 'the camera clearly loves him and the relationship is clearly reciprocal'.  

I tend to agree. I would rather have a hail and hearty Peter West welcoming me to the proceedings than oleagnious Mark. I hesitate to use such a big adjective, but the dictionary offers: smarmy, unctuous and fawning, which seems to sum up MCJ's presentational qualities all too well.  I am sure he was a fine skipper of Hampshire,  although one recalls his appointment triggering the departure of county veteran pro Trevor Jesty, who moaned about the committee's preference for a posh schoolboy with too many initials over his own claims to the capaincy. Sour grapes, Trev, but you may have had a point.