SPECTATOR SPORT

Goodbye to cakes and ale

Frank Keating

Mornin' Johnners, my dear old thing. Mornin' everyone, all set for another spiffin' day's cricket? Mornin' Trevor, old thing.

Mmm. Ahh. Err. What? Er, poor ball, poorer shot, reasonable catch. Ahh. Mmm. Z-z-z-z.

Tee hee, good ol' Boil, haha, nudge, nudge, play hasn't even started yet. Reck- on that's already my champagne moment for the whole match, what? (Pop! Fizz! Glug). Cheers to a Mrs Antrobus of Ambridge for the magnum. Bearders, how long till the umpires come out?

One minute 51 seconds — or 111 seconds precisely.

Jolly dee, good ol' Nelson, what?! Trust David Shepherd, dear ol' Shep, is listen- ing, and hopping about in the Post Office at Instow, eh'? So, a piece of cake, Blow- ers?

My dear old thing. Absolutely scrum- niers, Johnners.

Yummy, chaps. Chockers with two cher- ries on. Reminds you of West Indies rest days, what, Blowers?

My dear old thing, what girls, what fun, what larks.

Mornin' Sir Frederick.

Well, ah dunno, ah gie' oop, ah really do. Ah joost do'an oonderstand owta

waht's goin' on. In ma day we at least 'ad time t'mention teams as was playin' roody game before. . . .

Quite right, Fredders, and as the umpires emerge from the pavilion, it's time to hand back to the studio for a bit of news. Then some athletics, a few education lessons, the 1.30, 2.20, 2.50, 3.35, and 4 o'clock races from Epsom, followed by an update on all the tennis, golf, motor- racing from our men on the spot all over the world. Then you'll be back with us at the Test match for a close-of-play sum- mary. So in the meantime — c'mon, Boil, make with the Bollinger, hey! leggo! yaroo! you rotters! — it's back to the studio. Goodbye.

Goodbye to him; goodbye to them; and in another tiny way, goodbye to us all.

Radio 5, BBC's new radio channel, takes to the air this Monday. Enjoy the cricket commentaries from the Oval Test match. They might be the last as we know and love them. Radio 5 will carry the whole output of BBC radio's education and sporting programmes — including, of course, the venerable, chuntering charms of Test Match Special, a harmless, soft and serene signature of summer in England and all's well with the world. Not any more it ain't. The game is up for TMS. Not before time say a few — many of them cricket devotees fed up with its sniggering, slurp- ing, back-slapping, fourth-form bonhomie. Sure, the bridge between national institu- tion and national bore can be a frail and rickety one, but to most TMS remains a national treasure. Now it goes the way of various other pieces of the family silver.

Its appeal lies in its uninterrupted, total and timeless continuity, even when rain stops play. Next season its lazy, lulling rhythms will be jarred throughout the day by discordant blather from a different type of sports commentator, hitherto caged in Radio 2. For instance, this summer's first three TMS Test matches would have been obliterated by Radio 2's grunts from Wimbledon or the crescendo of coconut- hooves from the races at Epsom and Ascot. The head of Radio 5 insists TMS will be as good as ever next year. How can it possibly if you take away its whole essence? As cussed old Fred Trueman despairingly growled a few years back, 'The game must be up for England unless someone can pull a miracle out of the fire.'