Next Week's Scoreboard's Christmas Message: A Christmas Carol

Picture the scene. It is Christmas Eve in a small room in the Premier Inn in Durban.

Geoffrey is tired. It's been a long day, and not unusually for him, he isn't happy. He'd gone back to the hotel early, following the Test Match Special Christmas Party. The evening had got off to a bad start, so far as he was concerned, after Jonathan Agnew had been teased him about his new hat. Some people just have no respect, Geoffrey thinks: 8,114 test runs at 47.72, and the fools in the commentary box still couldn't recognise that he was better than them. And when the sommelier mixed him up with Tony Greig - well, enough was enough, and he knew he had to storm out.

He lays back on his bed and flicks through the channels on television. He is initially encouraged when he sees on the on-screen guide that Desmond Tutu's Top 50 Christmas Songs Ever! is on, but after enduring The Frog Song covered in Afrikaans, he decides that enough is enough and turns out the lights.

Geoffrey falls asleep.

After what seems like a few seconds, a crouched figure gingerly emerges from the room's wardrobe. He is wearing a long white umpire's coat, and a flat white cap on his bespectacled head. He is just putting his notebook away.

"Dickie!" exclaims Geoffrey, "What the heck are you doing here? Oh no - there hasn't been another breakout from the Retired Umpires Home again has there? You and your friends got into a lot of trouble the last time this happened, remember?"

"It was Steve Bucknor's idea to take readings with our light meters in that underground nightclub. Anyway, Geoffrey, you misunderstand me. I am not the real Dickie. No, I am the Ghost of Christmas Past. Tonight, it is my role to take you through some of the cricketing misdemeanours in your past, in order that you can reflect on how you have hurt people."

The umpire pulls out a print-out of Geoffrey's www.wikipedia.com entry from his coat pocket. He scans the front page, frowns and flicks through the next few pages.

"Actually, I think this could take quite some time. We'd better get started."

Several (very colourful) hours later, a very tired Dickie Bird bids Geoffrey farewell. He walks back into the formaldehyde wardrobe from whence he came. Geoffrey ponders a second, lays his head on the pillow and quickly goes back to sleep.

---------------

A few moments later, and a second ghost emerges from the background. It's Nasser Hussain.

"Geoffrey, I am the Ghost of Christmas Present. I am here to show you how other people around you are spending their Christmases, in order that you can watch and learn. cCome with me, please."

The former England captain gestures Geoffrey from his bed, and takes his hand. And, in a trice, Geoffrey finds that he has been whisked through the Durban sky, and is looking in on a hotel room on the other side of the city.

"This is the England team's Christmas Party," explains Hussain. Geoffrey peers inside. The England team are unwrapping their presents: "Secret Santa" explains Hussain, but Geoffrey is embarrassed to admit that is an unfamiliar concept to him. Andrew Strauss is unwrapping
his present. He smiles as he sees it is the latest John Grisham thriller, The Construction Lawyer. Elsewhere, Stuart Broad is delighted to find he has been bought hair cream.

"But they're all happy!" says Geoffrey. "How can this be?"

"It's simple, Geoffrey. They're a team. They work for each other, rather than for themselves."

"Maybe I should make more of an effort to get on with the other commentators. Maybe I'll drop into the TMS party and apologise...hang on, what's going on over there?"

In the far corner, one player is not looking so happy. Ian Bell is sat apart from the rest of the team, quietly weeping into a glass of blackcurrant and lemonade.

"What's wrong with him?" asks Geoffrey.

"Well, Geoffrey, you might ask yourself that question" explains Hussain. "A number of journalists have been calling for him to be dropped; the trouble is he's a bright lad, and he knows the hacks probably have a point."

Geoffrey looks troubled for a moment, swallows and says: "Maybe I should be a bit more sensitive when I commentate in future."

Hussain smiles at him: "That's what I wanted to hear Geoffrey. It seems that my job here is done."

Within a few moments, Geoffrey finds himself back in his bed. He nods off once more, albeit with a troubled heart.

---------------

But Geoffrey's sleep is short-lived, as no sooner has he started to snore, than has the apparition of Mark Ramprakash arrived: "In case you haven't already guessed, I am the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come," he explains.

After stepping into the Tardis, kindly loaned by Doctor Who to Next Week's Scoreboard for the purposes of this prediction, Ramprakash and Geoffrey find themselves in Birmingham, in 2020. Ramprakash explains that they are attending the Warwickshire County Cricket Club annual awards.

Compere Ashley Giles explains the next award: "Now, to celebrate the achievements of Warwickshire's greatest ever batsman, can you please give a big hand to Ian Bell, who this year scored his 100,000th first class run!"

The room stands to give Bell a worthy ovation, but Geoffrey is incredulous.

"100,000 first class runs? That's extraordinary. How many of them were test runs? Surely he must have been England's greatest ever test batsman as well - better even than me?"

"That's the tragedy, Geoffrey," laments Ramprakash, "he only scored about 4,000 test runs. Due to constant carping from commentators, his confidence was shot and he was dropped after the 2009-10 series to South Africa. He carried on scoring runs at will for Warwickshire, but the national selectors just couldn't trust him to pull his finger out at international level. He was, in short, just like me but better."

"This is awful news; what a waste! Why couldn't someone sort him out?" asks Geoffrey.

"There is one piece of good news. It does not need to be this way. It is not too late for someone to get a grip of him and coach him into the international batsman which his talent merits. The majority of those 100,000 first class runs could still be scored for England. But it needs someone to take action now, Geoffrey. Someone outside the England set-up, someone with experience. Someone with gravitas. Get my drift, Geoffrey?"

"Clearly" says Geoffrey, before he is transmuted back to his present day bed in RSA.

---------------

The next morning, Geoffrey is a changed man. He is happy, for he knows what his life's mission now is. The first person to experience his bonhomie is Ian Bell, upon whose door Geoffrey knocks at 7:00 am on Christmas Day. A bleary eyed Bell eventually responds.

"You're coming with me, lad" says Geoffrey as he grabs the Warwickshire man by the ear, "we're spending Christmas in t' nets".

Several hours later, both men walk back to the England hotel, feeling progress has been made.

---------------

It is now 5:05 pm on the final day of the Durban Test Match. Graeme Smith gesticulates to his bowlers. He knows this has been too easy for England. He had set them a target of 370 for the last day, and he had assumed that England were defeated when he had them 4 down before lunch with only 52 on the board.

But something extraordinary had happened. Ian Bell had started slowly, but had built up steam; and now he seemed unstoppable. At the other end, Jonathan Trott had batted steadily. Now, England were on 367 for 4, and just needed 3 to win. The only question was whether or not Bell could reach the double century which had eluded him at Lords years earlier. He was on 195: surely he couldn't hit a six?

Dale Steyn started his run up. He was clearly wearied, but was still doing the right thing by his country. Picking up speed, he approached the wicket. He leaped, and hurled down the ball. Short-pitched, it rose towards Bell's face. Smith dreaded the thought of Bell hooking it for six. Bell shaped to hit the ball into the stands, just as Smith feared.

But as he hit the ball, he rolled his wrists over the shot, and hit the ball into the turf before it could reach the boundary. It became clear he had preferred the boring over the bold.

"That's my lad," smiled Geoffrey, without realising he was talking out loud. And for the first time in his life, he felt a special feeling in his heart. Was this happiness, he asked himself?

International Rescue

Beneath his tired navy blue training cap, bestowed upon him by an insistent sponsor, a series of creases is etched into Andrew Strauss' forehead. He has a sense of unease as he looks across the Centurion outfield to the nets where the England fast bowlers are warming up. For some reason, Jimmy Anderson has stopped bowling. A minute later, his very worst fears are confirmed. England have lost their premier fast bowler to injury. What with Graeme Swann's depressing decision to abandon the First Test Match to appear in the Celebrity X-Factor Christmas Special, England are in trouble before the series has even begun. Adil Rashid and Luke Wright, anybody?

Strauss goes back to the dressing room to ponder a solution. Seeking inspiration, he plugs into the team i-Pod. His gloom is lifted a touch by the enthralling opening bars of 633 Squadron. [Click on the box on the right hand side of the screen for a simulation of Strauss' experience. Can't you feel his gloom lift?]

And then, destiny decides to intervene in international cricket.

At first, the crowd hear the rumble of the de Havilland Mosquito's engines, before she rolls over the horizon towards the ground. What is going on? The South African crowd believe it is a fly-past, and stand to applaud. But over the ground, two parachutists leap out of the crate, before it turns and drones out of view. The cameras pan in on the parachutists: who could they be? Stuntmen? Sacha Baron Cohen? No. First, the Sky Sports commentators identify Andrew Flintoff. Then, with his patka blustering in the breeze, they focus in on the smiling Monty Panesar.

Defying all of Galileo's best work, Flintoff lands on the outfield a couple of minutes before Panesar. There is something of a thump as he lands on his backside, but he helps himself up and explains to a delighted Strauss that the two Ashes heroes have come to save England one last time. But there's no time to explain pleasantries, as Strauss has to toss up with an apparently peeved Graeme Smith. Smith wins the toss, and on a pitch which looks like the eighteenth green at Royal Lytham St. Annes, he invites England to bat.

It's not long before the treachery of the pitch is exposed. In the second over, Dale Steyn breaks Andrew Strauss' finger. The England physio suggests he should go off; but he waspishly responds "Be off with you! This is a Test Match. I am playing for England, and to go off now would be improper of me. "

And whilst Alastair Cook perishes to a bouncing delivery which catches his glove, Strauss' pain apparently improves his batting. Or perhaps it is just the sun which has come out, drying off the pitch. In any event, by lunch England are on 99-1 (Strauss 52*, Trott 24). After lunch, the pitch is becalmed; runs follow runs, and Strauss reaches his hundred in front of a disappointed crowd of tanned, semi-dressed beefburgers croaking indecipherable insults at the English batsmen, to the amusement of nobody but themselves. At the other end, Jonathan Trott is batting steadily.

Finally, Strauss is gone. Paul Harris is bowling awfully, and Geoff Boycott is annoying the SuperSports viewers by banging on about stealing candy off a child. But finally he gets one to turn off a dead dandelion in the pitch, and Umpire Rauf raises his finger. He is clearly not out, but later explains that for the England captain to bother using the referral system would be "improper".

Enter Kevin Pietersen. The South African crowd tries to boo him, but with their unfortunate accents even that comes out wrong, as "Baa!". Pietersen is puzzled, and wonders if they don't like his new Kevin Keegan style hair-cut.

In any event, he uses the abuse to inspire him. Scratchy at first, he improves as the overs roll by. At the other end, Trott is batting steadily. But Graeme Smith can't help express his irritation that they can't dismiss the two South African batsmen. "Why are you two playing for England?" he asks them.

"It's a better country than South Africa," responds Pietersen.

In any case, Pietersen bats steadily, and by the close of play on day one, England are in pole position at 333-2. Asked by David Gower what his strategy is for the next day's play, Trott explains that he plans "to bat steadily".

On the second day, Pietersen picks up the pace, as Trott bats steadily. When England eventually declare after tea on 656 for 3, mop-headed Pietersen has just retired, having reached 332. He explains that his decision to pull out was out of deference for Graham Gooch's epic 333 against India. In his interview at the end of the day, Trott explains to David Gower that he is satisfied that he batted steadily.

Before that, there is just time for Flintoff to steam-roller in for a few express overs. It's been a few months since he picked up a cricket ball, and his heavy footsteps make the bails fall off at the non-striker's end a couple of times, but once that is all sorted out, he gets the ball up to 93 mph to dismiss Graeme Smith. But there are no more breakthroughs for England that evening and South Africa close at 69-1.

The third morning is a turgid affair. Tim Bresnan and Monty Panesar bowl an extraordinary 22 consecutive maidens to Jacques Kallis and Hashim Amla, and Kallis seems very lucky to survive three close lbw shouts to Panesar. Meanwhile, in the TMS commentary box, the new policy of having two guest commentators on at the same time is leading to some interesting exchanges. "Why are these South African batsmen so lucky? Well, I believe it is that they have benefited from the blessing I gave them last Sunday" asserts Archbishop Desmond Tutu. But Matthew Hoggard is unimpressed: "Nay, be buggered."

Finally, though, Kallis perishes to a rising ball from the persisting Stuart Broad. And stripped of his partner, Amla misjudges a flighted delivery from Panesar in the next over, and is stumped after dancing past the ball. From that point on, every few overs the England team make a breakthrough, until Steyn's off-stump is uprooted by a Panesar quicker ball - measured at 85 mph. South Africa are out for a rather miserable 256: so exactly 400 runs behind. Back in the dressing room, Strauss is not sure what to do; but he turns to see that Andrew Flintoff has already changed his shirt, has gone out to the middle and is marking out his run-up. His inspiring presence is again too much for Graeme Smith: he shoulders arms to an inswinger, and a moment later a splinter from his middle stump has become wedged in Matthew Prior's pads. But that's all folks; a few moment later Umpire Rauf raises his light meter to the sky, nods, and walks off.

The fourth day is lost to rain.

The morning of the fifth day is lost to rain as well.

But by the afternoon, Strauss has been able to persuade Umpires Rauf and Bowden to take the field. Naturally, Graeme Smith moans - but as Umpire Bowden says at the time, when doesn't he? England are only able to use their slower bowlers. Trott bowls steadily. Panesar bowls beautifully; but without luck. Is the game a draw? Not quite: Kevin Pietersen is at hand, and when he dismisses two of his former countrymen in one over, there is more disquiet on the South African dressing room. On a drying pitch, Panesar finds the right pace and becomes a real handful. Whilst Kallis is still batting steadily, JP Duminy and AB de Villiers lost out to become further victims of the Sussex twirler's wizardry.

Wicket follows wicket: but over follows over. Finally, there is one over left. There is one wicket left. Kallis is batting. Panesar is bowling. Who will it be? The most boring batsman since Boycott retired, or the cheery spin trickster? Let me give you a clue: Father Christmas has a beard, and delivers presents to children across the world at this time of year. But this time, someone else with a beard delivers the England fans a Christmas present they will never forget.