MARTIN JOHNSON

It wasn’t until cricket returned without crowds that I realised the true value to his team of a modern-day wicketkeeper. Here I was, under the impression he was there to take blinding catches and make lightning stumpings, when all the time it’s how much noise he can make. Velvety gloves? “Do me a favour,” you can hear the coach snorting. “Find me a bloke with a pair of cast-iron tonsils.”
Thanks to acoustics reminiscent of a half-empty swimming baths, every utterance a wicketkeeper makes is now picked up with crysta...