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From the Prologue: Headingley, 1981

Later, when England toured thousands of miles away in Australia, cricket lived only on Radio 4 long wave, with regular breaks bizarrely given over to the shipping forecast. Even now I can name the cool-sounding maritime areas: Dogger, Viking, Cromarty, South Utsire. There was no chance of live coverage on television, so I would lie in that same bedroom with a radio pressed to my ear.

Listening to Test Match Special drift across the oceans. Australian vowels stretched thin, every sentence sounding like a friendly question. The commentary describing sunshine and roaring crowds at the MCG: a world impossibly far from my freezing room, from the turbulence below.

Ball by ball. Over and over.

First, there was Headingley and Botham. But then there was the moment cricket became more than just a game. Something else entirely. A refuge and a promise. A promise to visit Australia for a full Ashes series.