In space, no one can hear a howzat scream

The UK summer demonstrates broadcasters face a battle to dress up games if there are no crowds at the cricket this year

It’s lonely at the top when cricket is played in a bubble Picture: Getty Images

If Neil Armstrong was allowed to tell the complete truth about his alleged moon experience he’d have said it, well, lacked a little ­atmosphere.

Australian, England, Pakistan and West Indies players would be equally furtive about cricket in the COVID-19 era in the UK this year, but if they were willing to be honest they might suggest that it is not international cricket as they know it. This isn’t what playing for your country should be like.

Steve Smith signalled this when he said on departure for England that he would miss the boos.

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Money aside, the biggest reward when elevated from first class to the international game is the buzz. The gratification. The sea of waving hands. The cameras. The lights. The hype.

At least Neil brought his own Buzz (sorry), but there’s only so much excitement your colleagues clapping on the balcony can provide. Only so much affirmation a bowler can take from a bum pat. Only so much contact high you can get from Marnus Labus­chagne, only so much filter coffees you can drink at Adam Zampa’s Love Cafe.

The Big Bash League and similar tournaments have offered more players the chance to taste an approximation of the love international players experience.

For a month or two they’re strutting their stuff with a microphone not a hairbrush in hand, fans not a mirror in front of them. Elevated from Sheffield Shield — where a sleeping old man’s fart is the only feedback you get — to a world where kids with fried chicken buckets on their heads scream your name.

Hopefully they’ll get a taste of that this summer, but don’t hold your breath.

International cricketers searching under parked cars for lost cricket balls was something to witness during the recent Australian games against England. But it is neither that nor the indignity of having to bring your own balls to training (or making your own bed in a quarantine hotel) that stole from the experience of playing cricket for your country.

It was, purely and simply, the lack of fans. The lack of feedback.

England's Jonny Bairstow looks for the ball in the empty stand at Old Trafford Picture: Getty Images

It didn’t appear to affect the Tests as much as it did the short-form games. One night stands demand noise. Hey, we may never do this again. The ball needs the swell of excitement to reach the boundary — or elevate into stands. A catch is enhanced by cacophony.

The only movement a six summoned in the stands during the recent series was that of fielders jumping fences to, again, fetch the balls from under empty seats.

The ODIs and T20s almost resembled cricket from the Bradman era where opposition players politely applauded a batsman’s milestones and fielders were not roused from their positions by the sight of a wicket falling.

Part of the issue may have been Sky’s approach. The English broadcaster is brilliant at broadcasting Test matches because of the understated approach, sure, but perhaps given the strange circumstances they could have looked for a little more artificial enhancement around crowdless short-format matches.

Not many have been to the moon, but I have. I was the only person in the seats (before being told to move on by security) at the ODI game of solitaire between New Zealand and Australia in March this year.

I’ve watched Tests in the desert-bound stadiums of the UAE where there is nothing but empty stands, glittering shards and endless, endless sands.

I also watched the intra-club squad clash at the Ageas Bowl last year where Australian players vied for the last few seats on the Ashes coach and where half of England’s cricket was played this year.

Security treated that practice game as if a dry run for the forthcoming pandemic and completely locked the stadium down, but I managed a dash to square leg and soaked up the atmosphere when one guard had wandered off.

These are unique but not good experiences.

The good news for Australian cricket is that the chance fans can attend games is improving.

This eventuality may expose the concept of holding the Big Bash League as a travelling carnival/circus as a little self-defeating. Sixers against Thunder will not be a big event in the back blocks of Queensland but could be warmed if played before even limited crowds in the team’s home state. It’d be nice for sponsors and state coffers too. Headquarters has, surprisingly and pleasingly, filled its boots to overflowing on this front but states rely on gates and corporate endorsement of their domestic teams.

Hopefully the understandably harried and clearly cautious types in cricket’s war room will be agile enough to react as circumstances change.

Broadcasters have to be nimble too if the tap is turned off on atmosphere by the lack of crowds and they are already planning ways to make up for your absence.

The IPL starts soon. Broadcasters say they are expecting the highest ratings in the history of the event, but the upside from having so many Indians at home is offset by the fact it means they are not in the stands providing that soundtrack bed that sounds like Jimi Hendrix figured a way to play feedback on an F1 car.

Cricket producers without a crowd shot are like a drummer without a rim shot.

Star (TV) put everything into producing this trumped-up tournament and will be pedalling twice as hard to compensate for the absence of atmosphere.

You never know, there might be life out there. Watch that space.