'I’d trust them.’ And I knew that was the highest compliment Russell could give

Maybe it’s my old-fashioned fondness for an increasingly archaic notion of duty and commitment that make it so important to me. Perhaps I’ve a yen for the days when leaders inspired not through their ability to turn computer algorithms into billions of dollars of stock options, but because of their physical and mental courage in the face of danger and adversity. That’s why I love a sport that can make a virtue of mulishness, and find glory in a five-day draw. My encounter with Russell had shown me that the brand of loyalty I’ve always idolised doesn’t live on only in the pages of fiction, or Hollywood bromances. It’s not just something that a fan projects, hopefully, on to her sporting heroes – it can be as real as her imaginings. It endures, too. Russell told me how, even now, ‘If Athers asked for help to do something, you do it, because you’ve got a bond. Because even though we didn’t win a lot, we had some special moments, and we’ve been through something together.’ And then he paused. ‘Now I come to think about it . . . I ain’t got any friends, really. Not friend friends. I’m quite singular. Remote. But when you talk of Athers and Angus and Stewie and those guys . . . I’d trust them.’ And I knew that was the highest compliment Russell could give.

E. John Following on (2016), 122

Jack Russell's passion for painting was actually considered the least strange thing about him by his teammates

His [Jack Russell's] passion for painting was actually considered the least strange thing about him by his teammates, who witnessed his compulsive and fastidious behaviour towards his food, his clothes, his gear and much else. He once ate steak and chips every night for a month, and he wore the same batting shirt for eight years. ‘I’m not so bad now,’ Russell says. ‘It was just how I dealt with the pressure – I like repetition. I used to have underpants with dots on – one dot for the first session, two dots for the second session. I’d have them washed and dry to wear the next day.’ It must have been exhausting doing all that laundry on top of your regular job, I say. ‘That’s why rooming with me was a nightmare. In between games I was washing stuff in the bathroom sink, then I’d be hanging it over lightshades to dry it off.’ Although that was only the half of it – Russell would tape up his wet paintings, too. ‘I think Angus Fraser still gets headaches from the paint fumes. In Cape Town Neil Fairbrother was actually sick out of the window.’

E. John, Following on (2016), 105

In Tufnell’s case, it was a perfect opportunity to indulge in his favourite hobby, sleeping

In our nook in the pub, Tufnell is finding it hard to recall the West Indies tour, probably because he wasn’t picked in the first three Test matches. ‘That was a mistake,’ he says, ‘’cos that’d mean I’d just go on the piss for three weeks.’ In the third Test in Trinidad he was twelfth man, the substitute role that traditionally involves carrying drinks or equipment out to the players, and taking the field in the case of injury. In Tufnell’s case, it was a perfect opportunity to indulge in his favourite hobby, sleeping.

E. John, Following on (2016), 48

I have spent more time actively following my cricket team’s progress than it took for Francis Drake to circumnavigate the earth

People tend to consider football fans the most passionate and committed consumers of sport on the planet, because they make the most noise and are, at times, frankly scary. But no one stops to think how many hours of the day we cricket lovers have to devote to our sport. Our games are epic in scale. Test matches – the highest, noblest form of the game, played only between a handful of the best teams in the world – can last five days. Even the one-day international, invented in the 1970s to be a faster-paced format, takes seven hours. There have been 254 England Tests since I started following them. Assuming these managed an average of three days’ play – factoring in early finishes and time lost to rain, and erring on the mean side – that’s at least 762 days of cricket. Which is a little over two years. That’s not even counting England’s one-day games, of which there have been more than 400. I have spent more time actively following my cricket team’s progress than it took for Francis Drake to circumnavigate the earth.

E. John, Following on (2016), 8