‘THE BOWLER’S HOLDING, the batsman’s Willey.’
Brian Johnston has denied ever saying this on commentary, but the boyish humour of the “call” has made it do the rounds of the cricket world for years. That’s the power of a memorable quote.
A more sarcastic one, which did happen, was Richie Benaud quipping, “Glenn McGrath dismissed for two, just 98 runs short of his century.”
In more contemporary times, the most famous call is perhaps Ian Bishop bellowing, “Carlos Brathwaite, remember the name!” as the huge Barbadian tonked Ben Stokes for four sixes to seal a T20 World Cup win for the West Indies in 2016. A few World Cups down the line, Jatin Sapru yelled, ‘Long off, long off, long off!’ as Suryakumar Yadav danced along the boundary line, pouching a catch that won India the title in 2024.
If batting and bowling are art forms, so, too, is broadcasting. And Sapru is an artist in his prime. In conversation with THE WEEK’s consultant, sports, Ayaz Memon, who himself has dipped in and out of the commentary booth, Sapru took viewers behind the scenes of what a broadcaster actually does.
This was episode 1 of CEAT Beyond The Scoreboard, a podcast series where CEAT, in association with THE WEEK, peels back the curtain on India’s favourite sport. “What you see on the camera and what we say is just the final product, but it’s a beautiful complicated machinery that is engineered by some of the best in the business,” said Sapru. “A lot hinges on us because eventually the experience of the broadcast, all that hard work, could go in vain if we’re uttering absolute nonsense on the mic.”
The hour-long conversation covered a lot of ground, touching on topics such as Sapru’s preparation for a tournament, the logistics inside the booth, the changing nature of commentary and how he navigates his relationships with current players, retired experts and even fans.
It began by him answering Memon’s query on how to get into the field. “The first thing is that there is no natural [process], okay, give this interview and you’re a commentator. It is a natural progression in the field. So, this is what I say: ‘Are you ready to give it eight, 10 years where sometimes the salary will be a pittance and you may not crack it? If you’re willing to do that, come join.”
An engineering dropout who stumbled into this world by winning a reality show, Sapru knows the grind. He was a reporter in the early years, doing two-minute interviews on a good day, before slowly transitioning into the booth.
Once there, he found his feet. And his calling as a storyteller. “Our job does not start and finish with a game,” he said. “It continues on. Are we in touch with the players [off the field, during off-season]? There have been times when there is a player who is injured and I might just message him to check on the injury and then say, ‘How are you staying in the zone? Are you watching a game and visualising? Do you have your kit bag in your room? Are you getting up at night, doubting yourself?’ These are the things that eventually transform into a value add. Everyone can call a cover drive or a pull shot, but the making of it, the making of that moment, is what we need to try our best to get to.”
Probed further on the technical aspects of the job, Sapru launched into an explanation that makes for essential viewing, especially for a hardcore fan. This included the production control room, the role of directors and producers, the interplay between those in the booth, including the statistician, and how all of these different elements come together like a symphony to inform and entertain the fans.
An interesting point he made was about the role of sponsors. “Cricket is not a cheap sport to produce,” he said. “Broadcasters pay a lot of money for it. And it’s subsidised for the viewers because there is advertising revenue. So, sometimes people say, ‘Oh, you cut to an ad too quickly.’ Yeah, because it’s a very expensive sport and we’ve got to pay that money back.”
This is reflective of the pace at which the sport has grown, especially in the subcontinent. And the same goes for broadcasting. Memon talked about how he grew up listening to English commentary on pocket transistor radios in the 1960s and how, today, for the IPL, there are commentary feeds in several regional languages, including the likes of Bhojpuri. “Regional is such a joy,” said Sapru. “Because, from a viewer’s point of view, why should they be restricted? It’s their game. And [it’s about being] able to convey that game to them in their own style, which English or Hindi [cannot do]. Like in Haryanvi, they say, ‘Bhai, lath gaad diya! (he’s left his mark!)’, or in Punjabi, [the commentator says] ‘Oh, marta chakka, ground te baar! (he’s hit a six out of the ground!). That’s how people are talking at home. Broadcast is not just for the elite or people who’ve played the game. It’s for those who don’t have access to it. You have got to serve them.”