Far too many epic deeds and umbrella-chewing finishes to mention have taken place on English fields while I have languished 3,000 miles west in a theatre rather than a pavilion. Many a time have I had to stare at a sensitive line of blokes in tights when I would rather be admiring the rugged frames of Gus and company in their sweaty logo-infested shirts and manly flannels.
The recent Nottingham Test was one such titanic encounter I endured from the cricketing desert that is Manhattan, but for the first time in more than a quarter of a century of regular travel to this willow-free zone, I did not feel dis- connected. The reason is a new-fangled gizmo that has really caught on in New York called the Internet.
I don't know what other practical uses this appliance has but the fact that it can bring Henry Blofeld live into my hotel room is more than enough for me to hail it as one of the greatest advances of the 20th century.
In fact, listeners to Test Match Special on the Internet, wherever they may be, are actually far better off than those still trapped in the radio age. As far as I can tell, the Internet has no truck whatsoever with shipping forecasts. The TMS commentary on-line is like it used to be on the wireless, truly ball-by-ball, complete and thorough. I shall never understand why Radio 4, going out on three different wavelengths in many areas, has to break into its cricket coverage on all three for the shipping forecast, and even less forgivably, for the news.
But the Internet has other advantages. While those wonderfully reassuring voices are painting their usual vivid picture of the play, there are numerous on-screen aids that can be simultaneously summoned. The scorecard is updated in every aspect, after every delivery. So are the series batting and bowling averages for every player on either side.
His up-to-the-minute career averages are but a click away. Then there is a written, ball-by-ball pr‚cis of the commentary itself for those moments when a silent update is preferable; those moments when you wish your colleagues to think you are glued to the screen attempting to rewrite a lyric.
When Aggers and Co ramble on about the new Radcliffe Road stand, it is a doddle to conjure up a picture of said edifice (not to mention the complete history and geography of Trent Bridge); mention of ICC match referee Ahmed Ebrahim, and his life-lines and rather fetching photograph can be yours within seconds. Ebrahim, a right-hand bat and right-arm medium-pace bowler who was appointed to the Supreme Court of Justice in Zimbabwe in 1990, lists English theatre as one of his interests (call me for tickets, Ahmed) and was formerly director of public prosecutions in his homeland - a riveting portfolio of information that a mere wireless or straightforward television contact with a Test match would never reveal.
Other bonuses include the facility that enables the fan to replay commentary from previous hours, or even days - if you were not tuned in to enjoy the friendly rivalry between Atherton and Donald, no problem, it can be pulled out of cyberspace and replayed at leisure. Then there is the fact that the Internet show seems to continue when most other microphones have been switched off. I am not sure who pulls what plug when but I hope Peter Baxter's team realise that they are still being picked up from Bali to Burkina Faso when they discuss where they will eat tonight.
THE Internet is obviously the way that Test Match Special is going to maintain and then increase its following. It has come just in time to prevent the lack of enthusiasm clearly felt for it by the top bananas in Radio 4 proving fatal. It would be fascinating to know what level the Internet listening figures have already reached around the world. They are bound to surpass the home figure in due course. If one can't actually be at the match in the UK, it's often more convenient to listen live in a different time zone. In New York, it's all over by lunchtime and there is still time for a glimmering of pretence of a day's work, which is out of the question in England during a big match.
Now none of this will come as a great revelation to those who have mastered the World Wide Web ages ago, when Flintoff, or even Hussain, was still in short trousers. These cybernerds, as I believe the technical jargon has it, will be amazed by the fact that punters like me have only just come to grips with the Net's staggering potential at a rather modest level, but this is the point - the fact that we are logging on (I pick up the terms pretty quickly) in ever-increasing numbers is pointing the way to a whole new world for sporting commentary. Soon, worrying about which wavelength the BBC will grudgingly hand over to TMS will be a thing of the past as we all log on rather than tune in.