Tour Diary

Collingwood's faux pas

Paul Collingwood left the media puzzled with his thoughts on swing.

Paul Collingwood is someone you'd call a no-nonsense cricketer. Grinding out runs, nudging the gaps, running the singles hard, fielding energetically and bowling honest spells. Which is why it was startling when he had the media in a shock today. "Hopefully the ball won’t swing as much in the one-dayers," he said. "During the Tests what they did do well was swing the ball both ways. The white ball swings generally in one direction. Hopefully it doesn’t swing both ways.”

Both Angus Fraser and Derek Pringle, former England medium-pacers, were slightly bemused. So what was Colly talking about? Maybe he meant the white ball doesn't reverse-swing. Maybe he was talking about the left-armer's indipper to the right-handed batsmen. Maybe Allan Donald had revealed a dark art.

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Just as Rahul Dravid revealed that Sachin Tendulkar and Sourav Ganguly will be opening the batting, the walls of the Gordon Greenidge suite, where the press conference was held, trembled in appreciation. Hampshire is a county that's seen one of the greatest opening acts in history - Greenidge and Barry Richards - and watching two modern masters take first strike will no doubt bring back fond memories. England, meanwhile, are planning a makeshift combination. The walls, no doubt, quivered with disgust.
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League of extraordinarily large sportsmen

Colin Milburn: Wisden informs us that he normally “hovered around the 18 stone mark”

John Daly is 41 years old, weighs 100 kgs, likes his drink, puffs away at his cigarettes and makes his living playing golf. Tiger Woods, the great golfer who he competes against, won the USPGA tournament recently and urged all golfers to work out, a fact that helped him combat the heat during the tournament. Daly would have none of it. “"I tried but every time I worked out I threw up and I thought to myself that you can get drunk and throw up, so it's just not for me.”
It’s the sort of spirit you see in Northamptonshire, once home to one of the heaviest weights in cricket, Colin Milburn. Wisden informs us that he normally “hovered around the 18 stone mark” and that he was the largest man to play first-class cricket in England since Warwick Armstrong in 1921. He was also, and this is the most important part, a wonderfully natural player who might have had a glorious international career if not for the fateful car-crash that allowed him only nine Tests.
Walk into the Colin Milburn room here in Northampton and you get pictures, caricatures and memorabilia celebrating one of their greatest batsmen. There’s a hilarious spoof on his Test debut, the Manchester Test against West Indies in 1966. Milburn made a duck on debut and the illustration, by Roy Ullyett in 1969, takes a lighter look at the sequence of events.
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Can I have a deep-fried Mars bar?

This is the greatest country in the world. Not because of the kilt, not because of the Glasgow Celtic Football Club, not because of King Bruce’s legacy but simply because they deep fry Mars bars. Chip shops around Glasgow fry the chocolate bar, using it as a batter for puddings, sausages and haggis, a typical Scottish delicacy. The recipe is quite simple. Chill, but do not freeze, the Mars bar by leaving it in a fridge, or freezer, for a short while. Mix the milk, flour and egg in a bowl. Whisk together to create a creamy batter. Heat the oil. Coat the Mars bar completely in batter. Lower into hot oil and fry until batter is golden brown. Serve. Remember, no crackles, no Kit-Kat, no Cadbury. Only Mars bars please.
In terms of priority, though, football is way higher than Mars bars. Last evening the city suddenly turned sleepy. No taxis in sight, hardly any traffic and rows and rows of cars parked on the sideways. After an hour of aimless wandering we are told that the city’s dead state is a weekly phenomenon. “Celtic are playin’ boy,” says what appears to be the only active taxi driver in Glasgow. “Come on, quick. They’re trailin’ by 1.’ We’re told we’re in luck. How on earth? “If Celtic wa playin’ Rangers, you’re goners’.
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Don't call us, we'll call you

Adnan Akmal finds a way to waft into Siddhartha Vaidyanathan's life, in Lahore and in Leicester

I first met Adnan Akmal in Lahore. A most surreal sequence of events led to the two of us waiting for the same lift at Best Western Hotel. He was there to meet Mansoor Amjad, I was on my way to my room. Incidentally it was the coldest day in Lahore's history. We met once more a few days later, a delightful Eid evening, when he invited a couple of us home and spoilt us with gulab jamoons. We also got a chance to meet his elder brother Kamran, Pakistan's first-choice wicketkeeper.
Both times Adnan simply materialised. No intimation, just a pleasant jolt. Following the bizarre introduction, I tried calling him a few times. Voicemail. Once I returned to India, I tried to keep in touch. Number not in use. You couldn't enter Adnan's life, he would choose when to waft into yours.
Which is exactly what he did at Leicester. At the end of India's tour game against Sri Lanka A at Grace Road, after the post-match press conference in the pavilion, he emerged. Coincidentally he was again here to meet Mansoor, one of Leicestershire's overseas signings this year. This time, unlike at Lahore where both of us were all wrapped up, it was the hottest day of the English summer. As if meeting him wasn't shocking enough, he began conversation as if there was never a break. "Hello ji, kaise hai? Enjoying England? I thought you may be here. I'm staying here. Playing in Nottingham …"
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