The Surfer

To this degree Wisden is essentially a commemoration of success, unlike great novels which are commemorations of failure. But I would still be inclined to put Wisden on my fiction shelves, so fantastical, like a tale from Kafka or Borges, is its illusory narrative of order.

Back in 1985, Sadanand Vishwanath was 23, with limitless talent, ditto potential. And then it all disappeared, down a bottle and up his nose — he would only play 14 more one-dayers and three Tests after that magical day.

Now on the cusp of 50, Sada came visiting on the day earlier this week when Indonesia shook and India trembled; oblivious to it all, he looked back on his life with a certain calm resignation. “Fame is heady,” he said. “It is so sudden, it catches you unprepared. It is intoxicating, it gets to your head and messes with it.”

I know that things haven't gone my way, but I can honestly say that I haven't lost any confidence in my ability to do well for England. I've developed so much as a player over the last two or three years and last summer I got to No 3 in the ICC's batting rankings. It has been disappointing, but it is certainly not due to my taking my foot off the pedal.

I still believe I'm a good player of spin and I've got some strengths in that department which I've proved over a period of time, and I will still come out and play the spinners exactly as I have always done. I will still look to come down the pitch and hit them over the top, and I will still look to sweep against them.

One of those who identified the talent of Anderson is Lancashire director of cricket Mike Watkinson. "When I first saw him, Jimmy was a raw, young, quick bowler," said Watkinson. "He had not got a lot of match experience, his action was not the tidiest but he had a whip about his game. "You never expect any of your youth players to do so well, but we knew he had a knack of taking wickets. "He was quite a shy individual, he still is, but he was somebody who we did some work with and we saw instant results."

It is perhaps a mark of the man that he speaks of practice with the lilt, the enthusiasm, other players reserve to discuss their on-field highs. A necessary chore for most, practice is for Dravid an experience both exalting and meditative at the same time - an opportunity to challenge himself, to put a burnish on ability, to perfect his responses to the questions that will be asked of him on the cricket field. Does he find that same joy in practice today, now that his pursuit of excellence has no practical application?

"The thing is," he responds, "that even as I retired, the IPL was on the horizon, it was on my mind. I'm a pro - I know not everyone considers the IPL as serious cricket, but I still want to do my best, so yeah, my practice sessions here are as intense as they used to be. I'm working on things, trying out shots, practicing some shots that, when I am sure about them, I'll want to take into the game.

"About 70% of the income [from the TV rights deal] will be distributed to the States for developing infrastructure. With New Zealand, England and Australia slated to visit India, we need new stadia. A modern stadium today costs anywhere between Rs 100 crore and Rs 300 crore. Four new stadia – at Rajkot, Pune, Dharamsala and Dhoni's hometown Ranchi – will host international matches this year."

It always seems a challenge to entice people to attend the fifth day of a Test match, as if they feel it is the bottom of the barrel. Tickets are always available and, generally, at a reduced price. In terms of value, though, they should be double. These are Test cricket's bargains because, over the years, followers of England who have shown up at matches around the world have seen all aspects of last-day dramas: matches that seemed safe, lost; matches that were all but lost, saved, heroically; games that were resurrected from the dead at the last minute.

It was all utterly enjoyable. The Indian players were all fit: no ankles giving away, no concussions, no complaints about an overly loaded, burdensome calendar ... Sachin Tendulkar, having abdicated the captaincy of Mumbai Indians to Harbhajan Singh (where, but in the IPL, can you imagine Harbhajan as a captain?), prowled pantherishly in the field, and smiled while doing so. Harbhajan bowled in a televised match. It made me nostalgic. Suresh Raina, full of aplomb and swagger, showed us again why playing cricket (which is to say, playing for India against Australia in Australia) should not be confused with being an IPL bully ... It was wonderful entertainment. (Although, if you ask me, I’d much rather watch The Chariots of Fire again, but who am I to talk?) Only, don’t call this cricket. Please. How does Buck Buck Bang Bang sound?