Angus Fraser was a knees-up, into-the-wind, old-fashioned Test seamer, and he was rather good at it. He beat more outside edges than Mike Gatting had branston-pickle sandwiches, and once or twice he even smiled. Gus also happens to be a very, very nice man. "I wish I was eight years younger," he says with a hint of regret as we sit in the Harris Stand of Napier's McLean Park. Marcus Trescothick is taking the attack to New Zealand in the third one-day international, and the bursts of applause and cheers mean he has to speak up, which you suspect doesn't come naturally to him. He's a big man – about 6ft 5ins – and he leans closer. "I'd love to play for England again," he confides. "You get to a stage where you think the chance has gone, but sometimes you think, I can still bowl as well as what you see out there."

If Gus were a more intense character, he might have done himself some damage banging his head against brick walls. Injury and appalling selections – mainly when Ray Illingworth was in charge – limited one of England's three best seamers of the 1990s to just 46 Tests. He still managed 177 wickets at 27.32, but it should have been more. As Trescothick flays another boundary, Gus says, "You want to leave the game having achieved what you can." Has he? "No, not totally. I'm not bitter, but I should have played another 15-20 Tests. And I always wanted to reach 200 wickets." He's got that hangdog expression now – the one he always seemed to have when he was walking back to his mark – and I feel like putting my arm round him.

But Gus is still contributing to the game he lives for. He's here in New Zealand with BBC Radio's Test Match Special commentary team, working as a summariser, and already he feels at home: Blowers, Aggers, Bearders and, er, Frasers? "Peter [Baxter, the producer] asked me whether I'd like to come to Zimbabwe, and I said I'd love to. Then India, and I said I'd love to. I'm thoroughly enjoying it. It's as close as you can get to playing without actually playing."

So which is harder: playing or commentating? "Playing is much harder," he laughs. "Would I rather have a gorgeous bottle of white wine and a Caesar salad in the sun, or a few sit-ups and press-ups in a dusty gym in Finchley?" So now we know how the BBC spends our taxes …

Trescothick cuts straight to point. "Shame," I venture. "You wonder whether he just gets a bit carried away at times," says Gus. No danger of that with Gus. His commentary is like his seam-up: "I try to be honest. Try to be consistent. I'm not trying to put an act on every time I get hold of the microphone." And he's clearly taking his new career very seriously. "I'm working on the the theory that the more you do, the better you are doing it, and the better you are, the more comfortable you come across."

Does he feel comfortable in the presence of TMS's seasoned campaigners? "You always make the odd word up," he half-shouts above the din (Nick Knight has just reverse-swept Daniel Vettori for four). "You get tongue-tied in certain situations. And you walk away and think `did any of that make any sense?' I ask Jonathan Agnew – who's bloody good at his job – how I'm doing, and he tells me I should just keep going. But one thing I'm not afraid of is criticism." You know he means it.

"I try to see the funny side of things as well," he grins. "Just cos you don't play with a permanent smile on your face, doesn't mean you don't enjoy it." Gus is looking nervously over his shoulder at the commentary box. "I'd better go," he says. "I think I'm on in a minute." A new career awaits him, and Angus Fraser is as professional as ever.

Lawrence Booth is assistant editor of Wisden.com. You can read his reports on England in New Zealand here throughout the tour.

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