Commentator Jonathan Agnew at the Oval Cricket Ground in London. Photo: Heathcliff O'Malley
It's strange to hear a voice. Usually during an interview, you spend a lot of time on verbal cues and body language. But this is different. I stand in the stands of the Oval Cricket Ground with commentator Jonathan Agnew as the crowd flocks to watch India and Australia battle it out on the third day of the World Testing Championship final. Of course, I listen to what the Test Match Special Elder has to say. But I'm also thinking of describing how he says it.
It's easier to deal with previous cricket voices. There was, for example, John Arlott's Hampshire rap with burgundy sauce. A published poet, he once described Clive Lloyd's shot as “the blow of a man knocking down the top of a thistle with a cane.”
Or Brian Johnston and Henry Blofeld with their crystal-clear pronunciation (often trying to identify the genus of a butterfly that swam past their comment box, or to describe the audacity of a dove that landed on Lord's gate). On television, there was Toni Grieg's South African drawl and Richie Beno's quirky Aussie accent (“count one hundred and twenty rui for rui”).
Agnew's origins as the son of a farmer and a graduate of Uppingham School means that he has an English accent that is easier to classify as a middle-class spank-bang than a geographic one (he was born in Cheshire and played the most). his first-class career in Leicestershire). But in fact, the most accurate description of his voice is “familiar” (although the word “friendly” is probably in second place).
“It's amazing how many people recognize my voice and often don't know who I am like that. ,” he says. “And they'll say, 'Come on, tell me, who are you?' It's nice. It means they're listening.”
Agnew in action during his time at CCC Leicestershire. Photo: Getty
The BBC radio program Test Match Special, which details cricket since it first aired in 1957, has become the background sound of many of our summer seasons like a distant lawnmower. Agnew is known to everyone. like “Aggers” – brings it down to the average. “What I like about radio is that listeners have to work a little. They don't stare blankly at the screen. The radio listener has to turn on his brain, come up with the image that you are talking about, and therefore it is much more assimilated.”
In the past, cricket fans turned off the TV and listened to TMS commentary. With the advent of digital media, this has become more difficult: delays mean they are often heavily out of sync, and you end up seeing the gate long before you hear it.
“I think most people would prefer a radio moment to a TV show,” Agnew says as a noisy crowd of mostly Indian supporters takes their seats. “You can really live a moment on the radio. If you're sitting in a car listening to Headingley 2019 or the World Cup final or whatever, you can hear the crowd, you can conjure up images, you can feel it, and you transport yourself there.” /p>
How right. As it happened, I was sitting in my car during the final moments of the epic 2019 Headingley Ash test that Agnew speaks of, when English Ben Stokes' marvelous serve single-handedly won the match. We were returning from France and entered the Channel Tunnel thinking all was lost, but emerging from there, we found that hope was still alive.
We were approaching our house when the game had barely reached its plausible apogee. Knowing that there is a radio station in our village, I deliberately did not turn in the right direction. So I have indelible memories of Agnew describing the winning throw: “And then Pat Cummins appears from the far end. He throws at the Stokes… who SCORES. Four!” — while I rapped on the steering wheel in delight, and my children asked what happened and why we were not going home.
Members of the BBC Radio Test Match ad hoc panel, including Henry Blofeld to Agnew's left. Credit: PA
“That half hour was my favorite thing to do,” says Agnew. “There was, of course, the drama of the situation. It was Ashes. So much was at stake. If England had lost, she would no longer exist. How Ben played…
“But I was in shape that day too. I couldn't have done it better. I nailed it. And it's a good feeling.” So much the better, one might imagine, because Agnew had just experienced the lowest point of his career and, as he later tells me, was on antidepressants at the time.
On the train to the Oval, I watch an excerpt in the comment box with former England captain Sir Alastair Cooke and distraught former Australian bowler Glenn McGrath. I'm amazed at how little they actually say in the midst of this pandemonium. “That's the whole point,” says Agnew. “Because you have the crowd, you have this noise. And that's why you use it. One of the things I tell people when they're new to the comment box is don't talk too much.
His pride in a job well done goes hand in hand with self-criticism. He listens to all his shows – even now, after a 32-year career – and asks himself what he could do better. It still annoys him that the defining comment at the moment when England had just overtaken New Zealand to win the one-night World Cup final against Lord in 2019 was not on the radio but on TV by Ian Smith, the former New Zealand player who described how England won by a “minimum margin”.
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You can't plan moments like this, but cricket fans will be hoping for more this summer when the historic rivalry with Australia – one of the oldest in all of the sport – is revived with the latest Ashes series kicking off on Friday. Just over a year ago, such a prospect would have horrified most English fans. They were defeated by the Aussies below and then lost in the West Indies.
But then Headingley's hero Stokes became captain and Kiwi Brandon “Buzz” McCallum was brought in to coach the team. Stokes and McCallum took more or less the same group of players, gave them confidence and took the world of cricket by storm, winning ten of their last 12 Tests in an ultra-aggressive style dubbed “Buzzball”.
Expectations are high. But those are the stakes. Indeed, many hope that the blockbuster series will revive interest in the longer format of cricket, which is being supplanted by the shorter forms played in an ever-increasing number of tournaments around the world.
“I know the money is here, but I think it’s too lazy to create another series,” says Agnew. “I get bored when I turn on the TV and see the same cricketers playing the same way, only on different colored stripes. What really upsets me is the prospect that the next generation will think that cricket is T20. That would be a heinous crime.”
He also believes that the project's premise is wrong. First came the T20, in which each side hits up to 20 overs, each consisting of six deliveries, and now the 100, where there are 20 fewer deliveries in each inning. This was supposed to attract new fans to the sport. “You basically say that the younger generation has a shorter attention span and I think that's pretty condescending. Look at our mailbox. Most of the emails come from students listening to TMS while they revise.”
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Cricket administrators should try to get the attention of parents over 30 who will then pass on their love of the sport to their children. children, says Agnew. His own earliest memories of listening to the skin on the willow were of the radio his father carried with him on the farm.
It was this that, over time, led him to become a top-notch Leicestershire cricketer. He only played a few times for England but was dropped before he reached his peak. Some bitterness about this prompted him to write a somewhat caustic book about the life of a professional cricketer called Eight Days a Week, which paved the way for him to sports journalism. After that, he worked as a sports producer for BBC Radio Leicester before being approached by Peter Baxter, producer of the Test Match Special.
“Peter, of course, put me next to Brian [Johnston, the cricket commentator who died in 1994]. And we just clicked with him. We were so similar. Same stupid sense of humor. And I just learned to do this job by sitting next to him.”
Johnston was responsible for many of TMS' most beloved traditions, including the so-called “-er” Oxford nicknames (he was known as Johnners). He once complained on the air that he missed tea cake, which led to the program being overwhelmed with pastries sent in by listeners. Are they still coming? “Yes. The numbers tend to vary depending on how often we mention them. But it's still a big part of the day.”
Why was Johnston so good? “That's how he talked to people. No matter how many millions of people listened to him, it was as if he was talking to you personally. This is what really good broadcasters do. He was so relaxed too.”
Agnew and England teammate Norman Cowens celebrate winning the series by 2: 1 over India in 1985 Credit & Copyright: Getty
Johnston and Agnew together were responsible for what is still often recognized as the best sports commentary. During a test match at The Oval in 1991, Agnew suggested that Ian Botham had run out of the wicket while trying to clear the stumps because he failed to “turn his foot”. The couple then giggle so loudly you can hear them struggling to breathe.
“He almost got away with it, but if you listen closely you'll hear Bill Frindall [then TMS statistician, commonly known as 'The Bearded Wonder'] horribly snort and that's it, he's gone.” At some point, Johnston can be heard almost squeaking: “Aggers, for God's sake, stop it!” Convulsive laughter on the air – “corruption” in the jargon of broadcasters – is highly contagious; if you can listen to this without giggling, you should check your pulse.
Was it intentional? “No, no, no, no, I haven't worked up the courage to do it yet,” says Agnew – it was his first season on TMS. “It was actually quite a scary moment because the program really collapsed. Brian really wasn't happy. He said it was a terrible mistake and left into the night. I came in early the next morning and Harry Richardson and John Humphreys were playing it on the Today program and laughing and I thought we could probably get away with it.
“Brian taught me that radio is fun. It was the best lesson. When people walk into this box, people are always surprised by how relaxed it is. There is no feeling that people are actually on the air. And that's Brian's legacy.”
I note that these days there are fewer pranks, less giggles, and the program is a bit more structured. Yes, but I have grown. And the world seems to be changing. It's much easier to make a mistake now, especially at my age, to do something that doesn't quite work and might offend a lot of people.”
Is he wary of this danger? “I. Social media has made it difficult. You're live streaming without a script, trying to entertain. And you can, if you're not careful, end up in a dead end. It's not where you want to be these days. So you inevitably get a little more reserved “You see what happens when people are wrong. Or even wrong in the minds of some people and not others. To be honest, it's kind of a minefield.”
Agnew may be tiptoeing all over him, but he didn't escape unscathed. He has an edge, as you would expect from someone who used to be a fast bowler. There are several stories of him losing his temper both on game days and as a commentator. He also talked about how he struggled when his wife Emma, a BBC producer, 57, was diagnosed with an aggressive form of breast cancer (from which she has now recovered). She has said in the past: “He cried for the chemo nurse, he cried for my specialist, and he cried in front of my closest friends. I always knew he was emotional, but that was a surprise.”
Agnew and his wife Emma at his induction ceremony position at Buckingham Palace when he received his MBE in 2017. Photo: Getty
But wearing his heart on his sleeve also caused problems. In 2019, The Guardian journalist Jonathan Lew wrote an article about some of the language used in the media to describe the choice of Jofra Archer for England. Aggers took this as a hint that he was a racist and sent Lew angry messages, which Lew went public with, resulting in the BBC reprimanding Agnew.
“Yes, it was bad. Really bad. My dad was depressed. During Ashes 2019, I took antidepressants. But I still created some of my best work. So for those who are thinking about the impact of taking them, it helped me.”
What particularly distressed Agnew was that his own career at Surrey was cut short before it even began in 1977, when, at the age of 17, he faced off against Fred Titmus, a powerful former England international who was coach at Surrey. According to Angue, Titmus racially abused Lonsdale Skinner. This story came out only after his quarrel with Lew. Agnew and Lew have since reconciled.
“And actually I will always be grateful because it got me off social media and life without them is so much easier. I sometimes get caught up in reacting to something, like Michael [Vaughn] coming back [to TMS]. And something there is just miserable.”
It's one of Agnew's favorite elements of work that can sometimes be the most annoying: “View from the Border,” when he questions cricket-loving celebrities during an exam lunch break. This is now the longest interview on British radio.
“People are lining up to come, but they can be very nervous. Roger Lloyd Pack showed up one day, a perfectly nice guy, he outplayed Shakespeare all over, “Only Fools and Horses” [in which he played Trigger]. But it's one in the afternoon and it's shaking like a leaf.”
Agnew and Henry Moeran of the BBC Test Match Special during the Specsavers test match between England and India at Trent Bridge in 2018. Photo: Getty
Does he do a lot of research? “Loads. You can't contact them.” Who was his favorite interlocutor? “It must be Elton John. He is a true cricket fan. We have a good track record of attracting prime ministers and I think we will continue that tradition at Lord's this year.”
I understand that he gave me a tempting half-hit on the stump of my leg: does this mean that he ruined the interview with Rishi Sunak? But now he's playing harder again and refuses to acknowledge it.
He regrets that he didn't invite Tony Blair or Gordon Brown. For three years he tried to get Jeremy Corbyn, but the day before, the then Labor leader withdrew. David Cameron's team asked to come shortly after the London riots.
“They probably thought: “Good old Aggers. It will be a nice easy ride.” Well, that's not how I work.” He called Nick Robinson and asked what he should ask. The result was a series of caustic questions. “Cameron was a little taken aback. We finished and he said, “You made me Paxman!”
Our time is almost up, Agnew needs to shoot back to start commenting. He sits down seconds before going on air. When I look into the box, he is sitting next to Andy Saltzman, the TMS statistician, watching the game and speaking into a red microphone. When he finishes, he goes out again after his time on the air. I mention this famous superstition. “I know how stupid that sounds? In fact, I literally fight for the red microphone.”
Agnew lives near Melton Mowbray: “I love country life.” Leisure time “almost entirely” revolves around his three dogs – Bumble (named after fellow commentator David Lloyd), Woody (named after English bowler Mark Wood). “He's a springer. Emma asked: who is the craziest member of the England team? ) and Bracken. (“Emma said 'Stop playing cricket'. Two days later I was commentating on Nathan Bracken playing for Australia!”)
Agnew: 'I love country life' Credit: Heathcliff O'Malley
He has a pilot's license, and his ideal day off is to put the dogs in the tail of the plane, fly to Skegness, spend an hour on the beach, drink coffee and come back. When he leaves after a tour, most of his colleagues play golf in their spare time, but he goes in search of an airfield and an instructor. “It's the only time you're completely alone.”
TMS covers fewer overseas tours these days due to more competition from other broadcasters for the rights. However, the cricketer's life of constant travel and extended periods away from home has taken its toll on Agnew, as it has on many others who play the sport.
His first marriage to Beverly and his relationship with his two daughters ended. “Yes. Unfortunately, that was the price of life I chose. However, there was nothing else I could do. I'm good for nothing.” Has he managed to catch up with his children, now 37 and 34? He gives me the shortest answer in an interview: “No, not really.”
While it sounds like a dream job, Agnew is clear that the comments and the lifestyle they demand come at a cost. “It's always something same thing. You see that young people come, they do their job, they tour, they like it. The girl or boyfriend comes out, they show them Australia or somewhere else. Two years have passed. A friend becomes a wife, she goes out anyway. Then she has a baby and … boom: it becomes very, very difficult to fly families. You miss birthdays and every second Christmas. It's one of the invisible stresses at work.”
But despite all this, Agnew says he would still pass all the tests if he could. While he does not want to “plow to infinity”, he is not yet ready to hang up the red microphone. “I'm only 63 years old, I love doing it.”
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