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It is easy to describe cricket in terms of war, though as a broadcaster I was always reminded not to be air-lifted into war-zones of commentary by the note pasted on the window in front of the microphone - 'Never say tragedy. Never say disaster'.

I have to commend to you, however, the courage of Alec Stewart. Here was a man who could not shake hands on receiving the man-of-the-match award at Lord's after the victory over Sri Lanka. The bones of his right hand are agonisingly bruised. Two centuries of wicketkeepers have passed this way before, though they would have hoped to have gone beyond May before having to grit the teeth and count up to 20 before stretching out to scoop a fast ball down leg side off Darren Gough.

The England captain is in pain. It is a sure indication that Alec Stewart will not be keeping wicket in the four Tests against New Zealand later in the summer. If you were the captain, would you?

Seeing Hansie Cronje and Allan Donald wearing earpieces to take instruction from their pavilion-based coach, Bob Woolmer, reminded me how I too used to take to the field on small Welsh grounds with artificial aids stuck in my ears.

Cotton wool balls protected me from the thundering advice coming from the top of the pavilion steps out of the mouth of the Glamorgan club secretary and former captain Wilfred Wooller. The difference between Wooller and Woolmer, however, is that Wilf spent the day telling both captains how to get their fields right.

Communication by earpiece is well outside the bounds of sporting play in cricket unless both sides can benefit from it, but even more - it should not be part of the game at all. The challenge in the field is for a captain and his players to get things right in the middle all on their little ownsomes. Preserve the game from the promotion of field-marshal coaches.

Be warned and remember what happened at Balaclava. Lord Raglan, from the pavilion verandah, sent crackling orders to Lord Cardigan ordering him to prevent the enemy carrying away the guns. Cardigan's earpiece echoed with soldiers sledging and whistled because he he had omitted to change the dodgy fuse at the Curry's shop on the outskirts of Sebastopol. Thinking that Raglan had recommended a full frontal attack at the enemy guns . . . the rest, as they say, was just not cricket.

A well built, rather tall man was getting into a bit of a lather at Cardiff railway station last week. As he bent down to pick up his suitcase, the strap of his light golf bag slid off his shoulder down his arm and spun itself around his wrist. Cardiff General, under hammering repair for the Rugby World Cup avalanche, is not exactly awash in porters or trolleys at the moment, and so the balding gent, I should say in his sixties, tried again.

This time his golf bag hit a pillar and again spun down around his arm. His wife was amused: she was managing her own golf bag with comfort. It was then that he took on the aspect of an Aussie with the new ball in his hand and a Pom to pin.

I was looking for Ronald Graham Archer, the exciting all-rounder on two Australia tours here in 1953 and 1956, and I had found my man. His last appearance in the Principality had been in the Australian team at Swansea on a bank holiday in 1956. The tourist match was a great event at St Helen's in those days and I was one of the 48,000 people who watched over three days.

Glamorgan got Neil Harvey out for a duck. We had 'em on the run at 182 for one. Ken Mackay was over 100 not out and, Ron Archer, the man who was billed as the next Keith Miller, did his best to tiptoe down the 80-odd close steps of the pavilion with some dignity. He was 100 not out overnight.

When he arrived at Sophia Gardens last week to watch Australia play New Zealand he was met by Glamorgan's chairman of cricket, Hugh Davies. I made the mistake of asking Hugh if he had bowled at Ron in that match. H D Davies, records Wisden: 24-1-107-0. R G Archer was out for 148 and Australia made 408 for four declared.

They poured a beer. Memories will grow as more and more visitors arrive for the 1999 World Cup. With a beer inside him, Ron took us back: ``I remember Swansea because I was 100 not out overnight. It was a wonderful feeling taking guard, looking up at the scoreboard and having a little smile.''

Archer was at his best with the new ball, but rarely got the chance with Lindwall, Miller and Davidson in the team. He played 19 Tests for Australia - his brother Ken played five - and was removed from the game at the age of 25 by torn knee ligaments which he sustained in his final Test in Karachi in October 1956.

``We had gone straight from England to Karachi. It was stifling and we staggered around on the matting while Fazal Mahmood cut the ball this way and that. I was batting with Ray Lindwall at 65 for eight. Lindwall immediately stopped the game to ask for the mat to be tightened.

``Fazal bowled again but nothing had changed. We were out for 80 and Fazal had bowled unchanged, right through with Khan Mohammad.''

His last match. True. ``But that was a better way to go than Bill Brown. There was always great rivalry between Don Bradman and Gubby Allen. Bill was Bradman's partner in a four-ball at The Berkshire; he missed a four-footer on the 18th to lose to Gubby and partner and Bradman told Brown he would never play cricket for Australia again. And he never did. That was true . . . I think.''

And a wide smile, meaning the mass of fond cricket talk, garnished with fantasy, which always surrounds a World Cup, is already going well.