I love everything about Vancouver: the sweeping views, the beaches, the hiking trails, the greenery, the food, the locally made wines and craft beers. There is only one gap in my life. Because of a few complicated reasons, I can’t watch the Ashes.
It has been billed to be a pulsating, high-octane series, a true clash of two modern titans. Australia are the reigning World Test champions. But England, looking to breathe new life, entertainment and energy into Test cricket, have won 11 of the last 13 Tests they have played. Besides, if cricket were Instagram photography, the Ashes are #nofilter. No jingoism, no ‘Koh-liiii! Koh-liiii!’ No demonisation of the opposition. Only pleasure and thrill to be derived from watching a superlative contest. It is unmissable.
So, I turned to the live reports, written ball by ball or over by over (OBO), on the internet. It has been ages since I have done this. It has been a joyous rediscovery. I flicked through some of the fare on offer, and settled on the Guardian’s OBO, which has become an institution by itself.
Of all the commentaries written live on the internet, it is the edgiest, funkiest and funniest. I enjoy the drollery, the wry, ironic humour the most. It is entertaining to read how it is not merely the commentators, but also those following the OBO who chip in with zest. Here is a fan called Daniel Brigham tweeting to the OBO after England blitzed out Steve Smith and Marnus Labuschagne in Australia’s second innings. ‘The problem with getting Smith and Labuschagne cheaply in both innings is, of course, the thought of losing to Australia when you’ve got Smith and Labuschagne cheaply in both innings.’
I love the inclusiveness the OBO engenders. You have people from all parts of the world – each of whom is unable to watch the Test live – following on the website, writing in their observations, and sharing statistics and anecdotes. There is someone on a plane from London to Helsinki; someone in a New Jersey basement; someone on a lakeside Oslo train; someone on a hotel balcony in Alicante. It is a true, global community of fans all intent on the same pursuit in different time zones. One of sport’s biggest functions is to foster this tribalism, create this like-minded universe. I can, through the platform of the website and on social media, talk to these people and discuss the game. It certainly beats watching it alone on TV.The internet commentary also brings the fan’s imagination into play. On the TV, what you see is what you get. Here, if the reporter/commentator writes something such as, ‘Usman Khwaja swivel sweeps…’ or ‘Cummins drives aerially through the covers and Crawley fumbles in trying to stop the boundary – IT’S FOUR’, you need to make up the images in your mind.
You are not a passive watcher. You engage with, and enter, the action in a more proactive manner. It is a bit similar to listening to radio commentary. But it is quite different too. Radio commentary is mediated through the voice of the commentator. Here, it is between you and the reporter. It is somewhat like the difference between reading a book and listening to its audio version.
As it happened, I wrote this column while following the final, nerve-shredding, enthralling stages of the first Test, switching back and forth between Google Docs and the Guardian OBO. The writing took longer than it usually does. But I am not complaining. I am already looking forward to the second Test at Lord’s.