Jarrod Writes…

By the end of Perth we’d seen some people. We’d seen Lorgat, Shastri, Ganguly, Waugh, Nicholas and Cummins too. We’d even seen Jason Donovan unsuccessfully parking a car. We wanted more, way more, and there was one player that we wanted more than anyone else, a man whose forward defence is tattooed into every Test fan’s memory; Rahul Dravid.

Initial efforts to get through the stoic defence brought nothing. Luckily, Sam doesn’t like to (or even accept that he can) fail. One day when the 1400 strong security detail for India’s net session weren’t looking, Sam made a break for it and got Rahul to agree to an interview. Elation.

But getting him to agree and actually interviewing him were two different things. We knew that Dravid would be a man of his word, but he’d need time, and where would he get that in the middle of a Test Series?

Thankfully for us (if not for a billion or so Indians), India’s bad form gave us two extra days off in Perth, and we received an email from Rahul. Then we called him. Then we met him.

That Monday he shook our hands twice.

The first handshake was one of a man who’d rather be reading John Keats on his balcony while drinking a shandy. It was gentle, and you could barely distinguish the hands whose silky soft touch guide the ball behind point. Either he was just a man who shook as softly as he catches in the slips, or he was put off by our shabby demeanor and questionable aroma. If it was the latter, thankfully it didn’t put him off his game. Once the camera was on he was exactly as you’d expect Dravid to be; thoughtful, decisive, intelligent and passionate.

Sometimes he replied with a late verbal defensive shot, and other times he answered with an elegantly punched oral drive. But when we spoke, he didn’t treat us like the disgusting group of men we so clearly were. He has this way about him that makes you feel like he’s on your side. You should be shitting yourself sitting down in front of him, but instead he makes it feel like you’re just at a friend’s place talking rubbish.

The second handshake came after the interview.

It was completely different from the first – this was the handshake of a man who clearly liked the questions he’d answered and was happy we were making the film. It was firm, more like he slapped our hands and then held on. And he didn’t just do it to me, or Sam, he went through our whole crew with the same sort of enthusiastic handshake that makes you feel better about yourself and life in general. I’m not sure any handshake has ever made me feel better.

In our own shambolic way, we appeared to have won over one of the keepers of Test Cricket’s flame. With one longer-than-he-agreed-to interview and boisterous handshake Dravid had reinforced to us that we knew what were doing and that we could in fact make a film about something as monstrous as Test Cricket’s future and present.

Sure we could run out of money, overdose on chips, or even be freakishly killed at the same time by some rabid T20 fundamentalist’s aggressive six while we walked Reservoir Dogs-style through a park. But Dravid shook our hands like we were doing the right thing. So we have something on our side.

If you got all the way down here, you might as well gives us all your money, right?

And once you’ve touched Dravid twice, you’re different, better, and more stoic.

Jarrod and Ravi Shastri

We had a real identity crisis in Australia. Fun-time-happy-internet-vodcasters (or as one journalist called it, five minute piss-artists) one minute. Serious-film-makers-trying-to-get-to-the-truth the next.

Some odd stuff happened to us, which included Sam asking Jason Donavan for parking advice, but the Dean Jones / Ravi Shastri cross over was certainly up there.

Inevitably it was all India’s fault. For some reason the Indian TV channel NDTV befriended us in Australia; Jaideep and Amitoj were their two main dudes on tour, and when they weren’t putting Dean Jones in a silly costume, they were hanging around with us. So it was always a natural fit for Hansie, our Two Chuck mascot (who is fighting for a writer’s credit for the film) to appear on NDTV with Professor Deano. We were happy to do it, because Sam and I are natural media whores and we love it when Hansie gets on TV.

The problem was we only had half an hour before we had to do a key interview for the film with Ravi Shastri.

The ever-bullish “Professor Deano”, as he made everyone call him when he was dressed up, didn’t see this as the problem it quickly became when Australian women’s all rounder Ellyse Perry was spotted nearby. Before she knew what was happening she was added to the casting and it was Professor Deano, Ellyse Perry and Hansie.  Just when things couldn’t get any weirder, we were all kicked out of the ground to shoot outside.

Now we were running around the outside of the SCG looking for a background that looked like the outback. I’m not sure why. I was trying not to think too much about it, in my mind I was preparing for Shastri. But I couldn’t do that, as I had to hold Professor Deano’s Cricket Australia ID instead.

The small segment consisted of Professor Deano interviewing Hansie and Ellyse before forcing the two of them to play a weird game of cricket which ended with a piece of wood flying around dangerously as Professor Deano screeched into a microphone. It made little sense to anyone watching it, but I am sure NDTV edited it into something special.

Free at last, Sam, Hansie and I ran off into the ground, Sam to the press box to fetch Shastri, and me to got ready with the crew before going to face to face with Shastri again.

A few months earlier we had interviewed him for a podcast on Cricinfo, and it wasn’t always pleasant. This time he was standing in front of me.  And when Shastri stands in front of you, he really stands over you. The man is just big, with a voice like a foghorn, making you feel like you’re standing in front of an impatient transformer.

Even his soundcheck was loud and bombastic.

Halfway through the interview I think Shastri remembered he didn’t like me.  Suddenly he was so close it felt like he was suddenly on top of me. “Do you have a problem with that?”. As I squealed nervously I looked around for support. Anthony (Aka AK, TK, A-Kor, Manthony, TK-Maxx) our cinematographer, isn’t stupid – he’d taken several steps back.

Perhaps it was just to fit the imposing figure in the frame, or perhaps it was because when Shastri says what he means, you need serious space between you and him.

It’s a shame he hadn’t been on our NDTV shoot, I think he would have really enjoyed that.

Give so that we may annoy more Test legends.

Jarrod writes…

When Sam first mentioned making a film, I went quiet, looked in another direction and hoped he’d forget about it.

At that stage we were at The Oval, the end of a seven Test run over which I had spent 16 hours a day working on our Two Chucks show, and the thought of adding a documentary to that kind of workload was too much to think about.

Sam often says things like that. Let’s build a space mobile. Let’s go to the moon. Let’s…. That is Sam. It is the best and worst thing about him.

A few weeks later, after an instantly forgettable T20 in Manchester, we decided to drive back rather to London rather than stay in the hotel we had paid for. Perhaps it was to get distance between us and a T20 game, maybe we just wanted our own beds. It was a stupid drive. I can still taste the sick food we bought from somewhere called Captain Cooks. As that food slowly rotted our insides, we decided to make the film.

Sam had probably already assumed I was going to make the film (he tends to do that). But I really didn’t want to. Then something just changed in me – potentially gastroenteritis – and with the aftertaste of wet pizza and boring T20 in my mouth, I thought “bugger it’. Why not?” I like Test Cricket and I want to make a documentary, why not combine the two.

From there the film has grown and grown. The original idea of running around with a borrowed semi-pro camera has become a five-person crew complete with three cameras, fly cam and mobile lighting rigs. Six months later we’re still understaffed, learning on the job and making mistakes, but we’re talking to big names, finding out amazing stuff and getting some ridiculous access. We’ve shot a Test series in Australia, and are now getting ready to film in England, Sri Lanka and India over the next few months.

And I got to touch Rahul Dravid. Which was awesome.

Of course, being a small production still has its downsides. Anthony (aka Manthony, A-kor & TK-Maxx), our lactose intolerant cheese-loving cinematographer who knew nothing about cricket before this film, had to share a towel with me for a while (we lovingly described it as our towel). Our living arrangements in Australia were often bizarre. They included a ghost, third party vomit, a sheet of glass that kept moving, and a missing air conditioner remote control. And plenty of backyard cricket with a large empty bottle.

There were days in Australia when watching the cricket uninterrupted seemed like a luxury, and other days when we spent most of our time running between lion suits, Indian legends and trying to make it back to the press box in time for the party pies to still be warm. People were often skeptical of this rag tag group of guys hurtling around madly while the cricket is on, and it’s always easier to get someone to agree to be in the film than it to actually lock them down for a time when they can be in it. But somehow we managed it.

Everyday we learn something about cricket administration we didn’t know. By the end I may go head to head with Gideon Haigh in a specialized, and dull, cricket admin pub quiz. Sometimes it can be depressing, but there are also great stories in and around cricket, and talking to people who love this sport so much does make you feel that no matter how bad it is run, and believe me it’s run badly, cricket will survive and prosper until at least the 23rd century.

I know cricket is a great game, and I didn’t need to talk to these amazing people to be told about it, but watching Anthony fall in love with the game as the Australia-India series progressed has given me even more hope. By the end of the series Manthony was disappointed when he had to film while the Test was being played. He carried his radio everywhere he went, had an iphone app for the scores, developed a mutual bromance with Eddie Cowan and his facebook status updates told the story of someone falling for cricket. Manthony reminded me just how quickly this game can get under your skin. He went from nothing to fanatic in days, because Test cricket is a special kind of sickness that you just need to be virally exposed to before it infects you for life.

I always knew this film had to be made, but watching Manthony transform didn’t just justify the hard work, it made it fun.

Ten quid gets you a hug from Sam, so help fund Death of a Gentleman.

So it’s goodbye to Radelaide, almost goodbye to Australia, and then hello UK.

Our second leg of filming starts in the UK on February 20. From there we go to Sri Lanka in late March to follow England, and then to India in early April to catch a bit of the IPL.

Death of a Gentleman is an independent documentary, if you are interested in helping us fund it please visit http://www.wefund.com/project/death-gentleman.

Video directed and edited by Johnny Blank
Cinematography: Anthony Koreny
Sound: Francis Kelly
Music: Jacqueline Bender