Cricket: Bob the Bodyguard just the man for a traffic jam

Andrew Caddick tries to find his feet in Jamaica as the hostilities open in earnest for England

Sunday 18 January 1998 00:02 GMT
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BOB the Bodyguard is with us. Bob goes where- ever we go and so far he has eased our passage considerably. Bus journeys that might take an hour are reduced by at least half; Bob simply drives in front of us in a car with a flashing blue light which he turns on whenever the roads are crowded. The traffic parts like the Red Sea.

Bob has not been called on to perform the sort of more arduous tasks often associated with his calling. It is advisable in Jamaica not to venture too far into unknown territory by yourself. While it has been strongly advised that none of the team goes out on his own, many have still managed to sample some of the delightful Jamaican culture: a polo match for some and a local fish delicacy or two. But around the hotel complex, Bob's particular skills have not been required.

That is where I have spent much of my time. This was largely because hard relentless practice began as the days ticked by to the first match. We were in the middle simulating the real thing. The bowlers had short spells at first and the batsmen had it slightly easy as we rediscovered our rhythm. But gradually the balance tilted as fluency in run-up and delivery returned.

Bowling is not like, say, athletics. Runners, whether of 100m or 1500m, might base a whole training schedule on peaking perfectly for a particular final. Everything they do will revolve around building and ensuring that they produce their absolute tip-top performance for one race.

Bowlers cannot do likewise in aiming everything and the kitchen sink at Test matches. We have to find our form, as we are doing now in the early part of the tour, and then keep it. It is not a case of building up in the opening matches and then hoping it comes right on the first morning of the First Test in Kingston. It doesn't happen like that. You've got to be bowling as well as you can, with everything in unison. To make sure you get in the team for a start. Spells have worked out from three or four overs to six or seven.

We have been trying to grow accustomed to the pitches (lower bounce generally) and to the heat. But at these temperatures the body responds better. In England in April at the start of the domestic season 'tis not always thus. Still, it has been tiring. Far from wanting to go out by myself or with anybody else and give Bob something to do, I have tended to have early nights. Even the lure of John Grisham's thriller The Partner has eluded me. I started it when we arrived but the book, exciting best-seller though it might be, has remained unfinished.

At last, the journey from Kingston to Montego Bay for the first match. Some went by plane because it was quicker, some by bus because it gave us one of the few chances we will have of seeing the island properly. What scenery we went through. We had time to stop on the way at what in England would have been a motorway service station but here was a row of wooden shacks, all serving Jamaican specialities. It was a thoroughly absorbing way to look forward to competitive cricket. And as for the flight, it was delayed at the airport and the plane party arrived only 20 minutes before the bus boys.

A team meeting on the eve of the match to focus. The team announced on the morning of play. Disappointment for some, but at last some cricket. England won the toss and on a re-laid pitch decided to bat. It was a good day. If the total did not seem high, all the English batsmen worked well and got in.

Both Mike Atherton and John Crawley looked composed when the ball was doing a bit early on and later in the day, when the ball still refused to come through, Graham Thorpe and Jack Russell assembled a partnership which put us in the dressing-room in good heart. The bowlers simply wanted to get out there and begin their work.

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