Inside the tiny room in which legends debate jockstraps – and make commentary look simple
Sky’s punditry team can offer unrivalled insight, unlikely banter and a few secrets to the rare guest
It is shortly before 1.30pm in the Sky studio at Edgbaston and David Gower, Ian Botham and Michael Atherton are debating which would smell stronger, a cheese sandwich or a jockstrap. Botham reckons it would probably be a jockstrap, on the basis that a cheese sandwich would disintegrate over time. The trio are interrupted by a producer informing them that they go to air in 30 seconds. And so begins another day of Test cricket on Sky, although what you soon realise is that the cricket is only half the fun.
To mark the occasion of English cricket’s first day-night Test, the broadcaster has granted The Sunday Telegraph exclusive behind-thescenes access to its studio and commentary box. It is almost three decades since Sky covered its first Test match, and a good deal has changed in that time: from high definition to Hawk-Eye, from speed guns to spin vision. The broadcaster has a channel dedicated to the sport now, too, but the fundamentals of the game have remained the same, and so have a lot of the faces. And over the course of a day, you realise that the easy camaraderie that often comes across on air is no accident.
“One thing people miss when they retire from the game is the dressingroom banter, the humour, the comradeship,” explains Botham, who has now been a broadcaster for far longer than he was ever a player. “But to walk in here was just like coming back in the dressing-room.”
As play begins, the action moves to the commentary box, in which around 600 Test caps are crammed into a space the size of a small hotel bedroom. It is a sort of organised chaos. Half-read newspapers are strewn across the room.
Michael Holding walks in shaking his head, the racing pages under his arm. “No good?” Botham asks. “Fourth,” Holding replies. “Jimmy Quinn, three wide for the entire trip. One mile six furlong. He run probably two miles.”
It is like stepping into a village pub, with one main distinction: when these guys start talking about cricket, you listen. At the front of the box, Nasser Hussain is barking instructions into his headset as he prepares his “3rd Man” analysis segment. “Can you get me the pitch map for Jimmy’s first over? Almost like we did for Morne Morkel. And then superimpose the next over onto it. Just to show the variation in length. How many wickets has Jimmy got now, Benny? Is it 488?”
“Benny” is Benedict Bermange, Sky’s cricket statistician since 2006. An accountant by trade, Bermange first got into cricket stats at the age of 12, when he wrote in to Deloitte’s to enquire about the methodology of their Test world rankings. These days, he is a sort of human crib sheet, whispering little fragments of knowledge and expertise that far more famous people can pass off as their own. “Kyle Hope, first ball in Test cricket,” Bermange whispers as James Anderson charges in to bowl.
“First ball in Test cricket for Kyle Hope,” Atherton announces into the microphone a fraction of a second later.
From the stats man to the technical guys perched downstairs in the car park, it is an operation oiled to perfection. Broadcasting is the sort of thing that only looks easy when you get good at it. Talking into a microphone looks simple enough, but how do you talk when someone is simultaneously shouting instructions in your ear all day long? “Been married?” Botham interjects. “Then you’ll know the answer.”
As the evening session begins, Holding moves into the 3rd Man chair. I ask him what his plan is. “Do as little as possible,” he replies.
“You’re not meant to say that, Mikey!” Ian Ward exclaims from the other side of the box.
“I always speak the truth,” Holding says. “It’s a job I hate, to be honest.
“Sometimes I just feel as if you have to do something when there is nothing really to do. But it’s something I have to do, so I try and do it.”
Holding has been commentating for almost three decades now, which makes it a surprise to learn that he went into it quite by accident. “I was very hesitant,” he says. “I wasn’t interested in doing anything like this.
“Initially, I was not a very sociable person. I didn’t talk to a lot of people when I was playing the game. So, initially, I was very nervous.
“The two most important things I’ve learned, I learned from Richie Benaud.
“One, you are in people’s living room. Not necessarily invited, either, so you act and behave accordingly. Two, you imagine that new audiences are joining the broadcast every day. So don’t assume that people know everything.”
Holding is 63 years of age, and after almost three decades in the commentary box, is beginning to plan his retirement. He predominantly covers Test matches these days – “I don’t believe anything shorter than 50 overs is cricket,” he says – and soon, it will be time to step quietly away. “I have a date in mind,” he says, “but I won’t be saying anything to anyone.”
The game has changed a good deal since Holding first picked up a microphone. But the tenets of television remain the same. Bring the viewer into the action. Only speak when you can add to the pictures. And if you are having a good time, there is a fair chance that they will too.
‘You are in people’s living room. Not necessarily invited, either, so you act and behave accordingly’