Standing room only on the Ess-express

The column is headed further afield, Essex v Durham at Colchester. Last time Durham played cricket, it will be recalled, they weren't at the races at all.

They'd lost to Glamorgan in a day and a half - from 70-0 to 114 all out, from hope to hopeless, nearly to nadir. It seemed time for a little moral support.

The 11 o'clock is 20 minutes late, every seat overflowing. Like the column it is full of reservations, scores packed peevish into the vestibules. "Here is a passenger announcement," intones the conductress, "this train is getting rather full...."

We'd have been away four hours earlier had not poor Harry Sharratt's passing added 1,000 affectionate words to the week. Colchester is still five hours away. It had seemed a good idea at the time.

Though the sky is blue, London's grey save for the refulgent Highbury Stadium. Underground to Liverpool Street, 14.45 to Colchester. "Turn right at the fire station," says the porter.

Before it there's Rollerworld, Going Bananas and the Megabowl. How Durham could use a megabowler, or mega-batsman, come to that.

Castle Park, what county cricketers call an out-ground, represents Colchester's annual carnival. There are hospitality tents, temporary stands, a BBC Radio Cleveland man up a tree, trying to get a signal.

For much the same reason that Tensing carried a Box Brownie alongside the dried yak meat, the temptation is to take a photograph immediately upon arrival - been there, done that, got the snapshot.

Durham are 195-8, and on a sunny summer's day once more seemingly up to the oxters in clarts.

Bill Moore and his wife Rosemary, from Coundon, may be the only other unaffiliated Durham supporters in attendance, Bill's resolve after the Glamorgan game never again to cross the county boundary having lasted approximately thirty seconds.

"I wouldn't care," he says, "there was only Gough out to a good ball."

None of the other Usual Suspects has made the journey. No Mervyn Hardy to adjudicate upon rights and wrongs, as so enthusiastically he does at Peterlee magistrates, no Tony "Jesus" Day volubly to demand instant miracles, not even Old Nic from Bishop Auckland, periodically to play the devil.

"Jesus doesn't come much now," says Bill. "He doesn't like numbers on players' shirts."

We've been there five minutes when Michael Gough completes his maiden championship century, celebrates in the modest manner of a man not quite certain what to do and retires, replete, to his tea.

Umpire George Sharp, like young Gough a proud son of Hartlepool, nods from the other end in wholly impartial approval.

There, too, is Gordon Pratt, himself a once familiar Durham leagues cricketer and father, in batting order, of county players Gary and Andrew.

Gordon, who takes paternity seriously, is persuaded to buy the ice creams. "Put that in the paper and I'll break your legs," he says, amiably.

Though our man Wellock is faithfully in attendance, the Press tent shields just two or three other correspondents and The Times man's dog. The dog's well behaved, though last time out it made a meal of a cricket ball.

"Better than some of the burgers," someone says.

Tim Wellock's feeling a bit chipper, too, because Bill Moore had earlier congratulated him on finally finding the right word to describe Durham's Danny Law.

What was the word? "An enigma," says Tim.

In the tea time score box across the other side, the Bearded Wonder is in mufti, or rather scruffti. "It's accepted," he says. "No need to wear tie and blazer on out-grounds."

Durham, he adds, are due a change in fortune.

As if having eaten something that didn't quite agree with him, Gough is out shortly after the resumption - caught by Flower for 103 - and is replaced, last man in, by Neil Killeen.

Call Killeen a rabbit and you risk being sued by Bugs Bunny.

He and Mark Davies add 31 nonetheless, supreme optimists even hoping that the No 11 might play a shot from round his legs, so that it might be termed a Killeen sweep.

They close on 259, not bad on a pitch offering uneven bounce. "If we keep on like this, the match might even go into a third day," someone says. Gough's perspiring number nine shirt is draped to dry over the pavilion fence, like Blackhall on a long gone washing day.

Paul Grayson, Bedale born but long an Essex man, is watching from the balcony six weeks after a knee operation. He hopes to be back next week, or at the latest for the return at the Riverside in a fortnight.

"Your lads will be pretty happy if they can get a couple of quick wickets tonight," says Paul.

"Absolutely ecstatic," we reply.

Two have already fallen, both openers without notching, when we again bump into Gordon Pratt. "We haven't a bad team at all," he says. "It just needs maybe two experienced players to help the youngsters along."

Andy Flower, the Zimbabwean who tops the Delilah (or whatever it is) batting ratings, stalks in second wicket down. "If we can get him before the close I'll be the happiest man in Essex," says Gordon.

On cue Flower is gone, plucked from the air by Gough, who else, from the bowling of Ian Hunter, the Sacriston lad they call Sticks on account of the distance between his waist and the wicket.

Durham celebrate exuberantly, almost boyishly, 25-3 at stumps. The Radio Essex man is haranguing his microphone - "Durham low on confidence, very bad results, should have been bowled out for 150"; Trevor Hawkings, the Radio Cleveland reporter, has climbed down from his tree.

As they bounce from the field, 114 plus four days, we essay a picture of the Durham players' departing backs in front of the electronic pavilion scoreboard.

For shame, it is at once wiped clean.

Mike Gough, even leaner than when we last saw him, declines a drink ("I couldn't keep it down just now") but is happy to pose with a pint of Adnam's finest.

"I quite enjoyed today," he says.

The temptation had been not to go at all, to stop in an air conditioned office and do Micawber impressions, and it was 1am before the train arrived back in Darlington.

Colchester, however, was when a Durham lad came out in sympathy, and when the long shots won the day.

Last time we'd been to Colchester was on a snowy night in April 1989. "You can't say this is cold, you must have been to Tow Law," said Hal Mason, the Colchester Evening Gazette reporter who took an annual holiday on the hill top.

United and Darlington had spent most of the season as the fourth division's bottom two, for the first time the basement club to be relegated.

Quakers were managed by Brian Little, Colchester had talked from retirement the old Scottish fox Jock Wallace, immaculate in business suit and slip-on shoes.

"My feet are bloody freezing," he said.

It turned on Colchester's visit to Feethams two weeks later. Over 7,000 crowded to watch the fight to the death, Phil Bonnyman's penalty unable to prevent Darlington's 2-1 defeat.

They duly descended to the Conference; in Colchester they built a Wallace monument.

The London Evening Standard, passing through, carries a full page feature headed Arsenal Target 'The Lettuce'. This does not, of course, make Arsenal slugs.

The Lettuce is Argentine goalkeeper Carlos Roa, so nicknamed (apparently) because he may be the only vegetarian in corned beef Buenos Aries.

Roa, whose penalty shoot-out save from David Batty put Argentina into the 1998 World Cup quarter-finals, is a Seventh Day Adventist said to be guilty of "bizarre" behaviour including refusing to train on Sundays and forecasting that the world would end in 2001.

Compared to Harry Sharrat, of course, he is so level headed that you could set a plumb-line on his cranium. For those who may have missed it, the great Bishop Auckland and England amateur goalkeeper died on Monday, aged 71.

Jack Washington, who kept goal for the Bishops in three Amateur Cup finals - and claimed to be the smallest goalie ever to play Wembley - has also died. He was 88, and 5ft 6ins.

Jack played alongside Bob Paisley in the 1939 win over Willington - Jackie Coe, the Willington keeper, towered over him at 5ft 7in - the 1946 defeat by Barnet and the still remembered 1950 final in which Willington beat out a 4-0 revenge.

We'd last seen him ten years ago, when he turned up at a club reunion after only reading about it in the Backtrack column that morning.

He was also a prominent Sunderland cricketer, made several appearances for Durham County and gained the MCC advancing coaching award.

A retired teacher and a gentle man, he was also an enthusiastic member of the bowls section at Ashbrooke, Sunderland, and is buried in the club shirt - "Ashbrooke," says a friend, "to the last."

More on-train reading, the Publican Newspaper reports that I T Botham, the Squire of Ravensworth, is threatening legal action over a newspaper advert for Guinness.

With the theme "Believe", it used a picture of The Great Man in the 1981 Headlingley test and Mr Fred Trueman's infamous observation that Botham couldn't bowl a hoop downhill.

"The suggestion is that Ian is endorsing the Guinness product. It is a clear breach of his image rights," says his lawyer. The ad has been withdrawn.

George Courtney, former FIFA referee and now Albany Northern League president, rings to protest that not only have we sent him an unstamped letter but that he was obliged to pay 99p upon collecting it at Spennymoor post office. "And then," adds George, carefully, "there was the petrol money on top."

...and finally

THE former England cricketer who is now director of cricket at Durham University (Backtrack, August 20) is Graeme Fowler.

The last time Durham played at Colchester, in 1999, the first two days were lost to rain and the remainder played under a cloud - but which Durham player hit the game's only century?

We return, should the 20 mile sponsored walk go OK, on Tuesday.

Published: 23/08/2002