ONCE those Football Results start to pester the evening air,
we know that summer is fully on the wane. How unhappily, therefore, I greet their reappearance! Yet there are millions who listen to them raptly, whereas for me they carry no more allure than the old Fat Stock prices. Every man to his own enthusiasms, and to each his follies: there must be millions who are equally bored by the summer's cricket commentaries, to which I should like to pay a small end-of-the-season tribute.
This cricket reportage is one of the B.B.C.'s jobs which we take for granted' but how well, in fact, it is done! I much admire these Alstons and Arlotts and Swantons and Johnston, and respectfully thank them for their long summer chore. When al is going briskly on the field, with runs coming or batsmen going, the job may not be too difficult But when Burtt is dropping the ball, over after over, on the same spot on the off stump, like a minute drop from off the eaves, and Hutton pushing him monotonously down to extra- cover, the commentator is hard put to it to keep the microphone alive. Wherefore our skilful stalwarts trot out all their art, bandying about past records of the game, working out averages, noting the scene at Lord's or Old Trafford, and welcoming the appearance of the inevitable stray dog. If anyone thinks it is as easy as it sounds, I maliciously recommend him to try it.
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