Agnew - Thanks, Johnners

This book is dedicated to my friends and colleagues on
Test Match Special, and to our many loyal listeners

There are many people who have had an impact on my life while I was growing up, as a professional cricketer, as a journalist and a commentator. But, my father apart, none has been as significant as Brian Johnston.

One of the most natural communicators and broadcasters there has ever been, the man known around the world simply as Johnners was a seasoned entertainer on a wide range of programmes on the BBC. He began his career at a time when up to twenty million people would crowd around their radios every Saturday evening. Whether he was spending the night in the Chamber of Horrors at Madame Tussauds, lying beneath a railway track as an express train thundered overhead, or gently interviewing a nervous resident of a sleepy village on Down Your Way, Brian Johnstons decades of broadcasting made him a household name, and every one of his listeners felt as if they knew him, even those who had never met him and were never likely to. But he was best-known as the legendary friendly, welcoming voice of Test Match Special.

Brian was more than merely the presenter of TMS; he was the heartbeat of the programme. He brought to it humour, colour, drama, the ability to establish personal contact with an audience, and, of course, a deep love of cricket that lasted a lifetime; ingredients that made his commentary burst into life in a way that no one had ever quite managed before. Listeners knew, too, that lying just beneath the surface the spirit of a schoolboy was bursting to get out. Be it deliberately waiting until his colleague had stuffed his mouth full of cake before asking him a question on air, or sniggering at even the most contrived double entendre, Johnners was a big kid at heart. And yet, at the age of only ten, he had watched helplessly from a Cornish beach as his father drowned in front of him, while during the Second World War his bravery under enemy fire was such that he was awarded the Military Cross.

Brian was nearly fifty years older than me when I joined Test Match Special in 1991, following in his footsteps as the BBCs fourth cricket correspondent. We had never met before, but as with many who knew him, something immediately clicked. For someone of my age, Brian was like a kindly old grandfather who the youngsters can quietly tease, but who never loses his temper. Within a few weeks of starting to work together we inadvertently created the notorious broadcasting cock-up now known simply as the Leg Over, which is still replayed as much today as it was when it first brought much of the nation to a standstill.

Johnners and I will always be linked as a double act because of those ninety seconds of madness, but the impact that living and working alongside him left on me was far greater than the effects of just one giggling fit, however famous it may subsequently have become. I, and many others in commentary boxes around the world, continue to seek to emulate Brians relaxed and informal description of cricket, and his ability to make everyone who is either listening or working with him feel welcome.

This book is not a biography of Brian Johnston. The journalist Tim Heald has written the authorised story of Brians life, while Brians eldest son Barry beautifully recorded every aspect of his fathers full and varied time at the crease in The Life of Brian. I am especially grateful to Barry, and all the Johnston family, for their help and support in the writing of this book.

Thanks, Johnners is a tribute written from the perspective of a man who was fortunate enough to work alongside such a talented and genuinely warm-hearted individual at a key time in his life. Brian Johnston liberated me as a broadcaster, and gave me the confidence to commentate without apprehension or nerves. He showed me how easy and welcoming communication ought to be. Now, in a world governed by brief soundbites, Test Match Special can sometimes seem to stand virtually alone in the broadcast media in allowing conversation, good company and colourful description to flourish in a way that still makes radio intimate in a way that television can never be.

For some who read this book, the Leg Over may be their only memory of Brian Johnston. If that is so, well, it is a start at least. But if todays Test Match Special brings the wonderful game of cricket alive for you, makes you feel involved and, through gentle humour and leg-pulling, puts a smile on your face, then we have succeeded in preserving Johnners legacy.