Roving Reporter
by Lawrence Booth in Hamilton
Friday, December 20, 2002

By 3pm the crowd had almost had enough. "The umpires have inspected the field, boomed the public-address system, "and we have some good news. Play will start at 4.30." One man's good news is another man's final straw, and the Westpac Park rang out with what counts as an uproar in these parts: at least three catcalls and up to four disbelieving jeers.

It was hard not to sympathize. A heavy downpour yesterday afternoon and more rain last night had turned the outfield into a quagmire, but Hamilton had bathed in scorching sunshine for most of the day.

As spectators patiently soaked up the rays on the grassy banks at the City End, the match officials Daryl Harper, Asoka de Silva, Doug Cowie, Billy Bowden and Mike Procter performed a maddening ritual: amble round outfield, prod damp patches with shiny black shoes, gather into huddle, shake heads solemnly. Two hours later they would reappear, and the ritual would resume. Amble, prod, gather, shake. Fortunately New Zealand has no tradition of civil unrest.

Things haven't gone well for the country's two cricket-only grounds. In the space of a week, the drainage at both Wellington and now Hamilton has been exposed as virtually non-existent.

Anyone optimistic enough to turn up for the proposed 10.30 start would have seen a helicopter hovering about 30 feet above the wet spots while Silent Night played over the tannoy. A surreal scene lacked only James Bond abseiling to the ground before disappearing into the undergrowth.

Despite the ten-and-a-half-hour delay, only more bad weather can prevent a result now. A maximum of 315 overs remain, but the last four Tests here have finished in 334, 271, 188 and 184.

Sourav Ganguly's face dropped when he lost another vital toss, and Navjot Sidhu (today's turban-and-tie ensemble: primrose yellow) was quickly into action: "India's openers are like nappies," he squawked. "They are changed for the same reason."

When Rahul Dravid edged Daryl Tuffey to the keeper to make it 40 for 5, the hand-painted sign on the perimeter fence seemed to adopt a new meaning. "We Want 18% More Runs" began as a cunning allusion to the recent financial demands of the striking New Zealand players, but turned into a strangely specific lament for India's batsmen. Fifty yards to the right a sign urged "Bring Back De Groen" but it didn't have the same possibilities.

Tuffey was outstanding, even if the lush, bouncy conditions cried out to be exploited. Tall, broad, loping yet lively, he didn't concede a run until his 39th delivery, by which time he had got rid of Sanjay Bangar and Sachin Tendulkar.

Two balls later he had three as Ganguly gave Stephen Fleming catching practice at first slip, and when Tuffey finally found Dravid's outside edge, his figures were a staggering 7.5-6-8-4. When he bowled New Zealand's first half-volley of the match in the 23rd over, and was driven for four by VVS Laxman, there were gasps of shock from his home crowd: "Daryl! How could you?"

Yes, the game was finally under way, but it didn't feel like much of a contest. The ball jagged this way and that, bounced alarmingly and generally behaved like it had a life of its own.

Yesterday the groundsman Doug Strachan (pronounced "Strawn") said he didn't want play to begin if the toss was going to decide the match. Today his fears were realized.

Still, a collapse is preferable to a mini-riot, and the Indians in the crowd whooped with delight as Harbhajan Singh carved and clobbered Bond for five fours in nine balls, all of which he played from square leg, and one of which -- a no-ball -- he spooned hilariously to mid-on.

Harbhajan's helter-skelter innings summed up India's frustrations: we can't play on a pitch like this, so we're going to have some fun.

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