Meet Charlie - from the Bengal branch of the Van der Guchts

Indian Diary

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Flintoff starts to plumb his depths

There is still a colonial air about the Calcutta Cricket and Football Club. They like it that way. The dartboard near the oak bar paints part of the picture. But it is the photographs hanging from the walls everywhere and the honours board which complete it.

They are full of old India hands from England, they transport you back to the days of the Raj. Small wonder. The CCFC were founded in 1792. They are the oldest cricket club outside England, and not many inside England can date their history back that far. The first match was between the Bengal Lancers and Old Etonians. Not many secondary modern boys were there.

In 1872 they presented to the Rugby Football Union the marvellously ornate Calcutta Cup which is still the subject of annual debate between England Scotland. In 1926 the RFU reciprocated by presenting the All India Cup.

CCFC were based at Eden Gardens until 1950, when they decided that they could not run an international arena. They brought the old gates with them to the leafy city suburb which is now their home. The walls in the upstairs room, which leads to a splendid terrace, are packed. There is a signed rugby shirt from Gavin Hastings, there are photographs of footballers, from Stanley Matthews to George Best and Franz Beckenbauer. But what dominates the scene are the old colonial pictures of the teams from the Christmas Day cricket matches, a dozen of them.

There, in 1939, is P I van der Gucht. The name stood out not only because it is unusual but because there is another Van der Gucht knocking about the cricket scene now. P I, Paul, was a tea plantation engineer "when he wasn't playing cricket for Bengal". His grandson is Charlie, apprentice left-arm spinner of Durham University and Hampshire.

P I played 33 matches for Gloucestershire and several times for Bengal. He had 51 first-class matches in all and made one hundred. He died nearly 10 years ago. According to his son, the cricketing genes missed a generation before Charlie, who made his first-class debut against the Zimbabweans in 2000 (3 for 75), suffered a bad leg injury, but is desperate to be a cricketer. They were delighted to hear it at the CCFC.

It's no longer official

For the first time in memory, and probably ever, England are on tour without a scorer. The job was traditionally done by a bagman or by one of the county scorers. It has been the lot for six tours of Malcolm Ashton.

He is here again on this trip, but his role has altered considerably. Ashton, known in that quirky cricketing way as Ashtray, is now the analyst. Instead of chronicling fours, dot balls and scoring charts he has to follow every ball now on a video computer screen. His task is to detail length and direction, any shot attempted and outcome. The fruits of his labours will then be used by England to determine how they can learn and improve. It is a good use of Ashton's talents (he replaces Nick Slade, who did the job from home most of the time) for he is used to watching every ball.

However, it is a pity England will have no official scorer and therefore no official scorebook of their own from this tour. This is perfectly within the laws, which state merely that: "Two scorers shall be appointed." There are also plenty of unofficial scorers now doing the job for TV and radio stations to ensure that no mistakes remain undiscovered. That is not the point. Something has changed forever.

Burning resentment

Despite its cavernous size (its official capacity is 92,000 and it was being openly predicted that 100,000 would squeeze in), Eden Gardens has a homely side. It pays poetic if at times baffling tribute on its noticeboards to famous cricketers who died recently.

It says of Sir Donald Bradman: "It is just bolt from the blue." It praises Pankaj Roy: "The name shall remain bright and living in terrestrial globe." It exalts Lord Cowdrey: "He completed his ecalysis for a new life. He will remain with us forever as a cricketer, he was gentleman from a cap-e-pie with a lucid image."

These tributes tend to go unnoticed. The place has been packed all week. Inside there has been a stream of electricians and painters, outside thousands of fans have gathered for a glimpse of their heroes. These, it would seem, did not include the man who is president both of the Board of Control for Cricket in India and of the Cricket Association of Bengal, Jagmohan Dalmiya. Fans are enraged that tickets are not only scarce but highly priced. In some areas they cost 5,000 rupees, or £70, a price which even the England and Wales Cricket Board have not tried yet. To vent their anger, the crowd burned effigies of Dalmiya last week.

He is probably used to it, though there is absolutely no truth in the rumour that Tim Lamb, the chief executive of the ECB who arrived on Friday and is Dalmiya's old adversary, lent them the lighter.