Cricket146;s restless pilgrim

Somewhere in between were those four years 1958-62 at a sports agency in Britain, reporting on such trivia as 8216;8216;tennis, two FA Cup finals and Wilma Rudolph running around in a straw hat at the Rome Olympics8217;8217;.

How he got to London is another story. He was a cub reporter when his grandfather died in 1957, leaving him money for travel. So Chesterfield chucked his job, and sailed, first, to Tahiti, made a Pakistani friend in Panama, travelled with him to Venezuela 8212; and then the West Indies.

By cosmic coincidence, the Pakistanis were on tour. At Sabina Park, Chesterfield was witness to Gary Sobers8217; immortal 365 not out.

In 1965, he found himself in Vietnam, sending despatches to the Australian Associated Press. It was hell. Ten weeks later he decided he had a 8216;8216;life to live8217;8217;, picked up the three books he had brought along 8212; Cardus, Clarrie Grimmett8217;s Tricking the Batsman and one on lesser-known New Zealand cricketers 8212; and flew back to civilisation.

The critical moment was in week nine. American soldiers had taken a dozen journalists on a war simulation exercise in the Mekong Delta. 8216;8216;We were dropped on the wrong paddy field,8217;8217; Chesterfield says. 8216;8216;This one was actually booby-trapped.8217;8217; It took 18 hours to rescue survivors: 8216;8216;Twelve of us went in, seven got out.8217;8217;

The next week, the rookie war correspondent returned to cricket 8212; and soon moved to South Africa. There he found his calling, not merely as a writer but as an authority on cricket. He got married, had children, did his bit against Apartheid, took cricket into black townships.

Then, in 1998, he discovered a new frontier 8212; and moved lock, stock and laptop to Sri Lanka. Why? 8216;8216;It has a good climate, and I can watch cricket the year round.8217;8217; Now he8217;s the island8217;s best-known expat resident after one Arthur C. Clarke.

BLAME the restlessness on his genes. Chesterfield8217;s maternal grandfather 8212; the one who left him the money 8212; is his role model. He too was an eternal voyager; he too loved cricket.

Funnily, he had begun life as a Prussian aristocrat whose family had quarrelled with Bismarck. In the early 1880s, he fled Germany, becoming a barrister in Britain before migrating to New Zealand 8212; and discovering cricket.

In 1946, grandfather took grandson to the little fella8217;s first Test match: Australia against New Zealand at the Basin Reserve. 8216;8216;Lindwall8217;s and Miller8217;s debut, Bill O8217;Reilly8217;s last Test 8230; Over in two days.8217;8217; Three years later, the lad saw Bradman score a fifty in Sydney, in the great man8217;s penultimate first-class game.

Strangely, Bradman didn8217;t leave much of an impact. For technical perfection, Chesterfield has only three batsman on his list 8212; Len Hutton, Barry Richards and Rahul Dravid.

India, a country he first came to in 1962 for a wedding in Ahmedabad, has a special place in his heart. As a South African of sorts, he still gets the goose pimples thinking of that magical whirl of a tour in 1991, which brought Clive Rice8217;s team back into international cricket.

This week, the South Africans are back in India 8212; and so is Chesters. It8217;s a happy cocktail, about the best to imbibe when you8217;re celebrating 50 years in cricket journalism.