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13 August 2024

Freddie Flintoff’s Field of Dreams on Tour is a hopeful, tear-jerking delight

This, for me, is the antidote to those appalling race riots. If only all those involved could be made to watch it.

By Rachel Cooke

Eli is 18. He has a face like an angel, a body like a long streak of piss, and a history of bad behaviour. But when he stands at the crease, he looks so right there, this lad from Blackpool. Thwack. It’s the final over. His team, a motley crew if ever there was one, needs three off the last ball to win. Can he do it? Eyes swivel, as one, to the boundary. Yes, he can. A six!

On the minibus home after the match, he and the rest of the gang sing “Sweet Caroline” with such tuneless enthusiasm it fairly breaks the heart. Briefly, they are as buoyant as barrage balloons. Nothing can dent their happiness, not even the prospect of curry for tea.

You might remember these boys, though Eli is a new recruit. Two years ago, they were the stars of a series in which Andrew Flintoff, the former England international all-rounder who comes from Preston just as they all do (Eli excepted), took them by the scruffs of their necks, and tried to teach them cricket, self-respect, discipline and a dozen other qualities besides. Many of them had painful back stories: Adnan was only 15 when he arrived in Britain from Afghanistan in the back of a lorry; Ben had been homeless; Sean was a school refusenik who liked to fight and drink vodka. It was all incredibly moving and vital in ways I struggled to describe, and I loved it. Flintoff is the PE teacher every school needs, but only rarely finds.

The plan for the next series was to take the lads on tour to India, the better to open their eyes to the world (“Benidorm!” shouts one, on being told plane tickets will be involved). Only then, disaster. In December 2022, Flintoff had an accident while filming Top Gear, one so serious he was lucky to survive (the show didn’t).

A tiny bit of Freddie Flintoff’s Field of Dreams on Tour was filmed before this crash, but the large majority of it was shot afterwards. Watch it, and you’ll see that the mere fact it went ahead at all is remarkable. Flintoff’s recovery was long and complex; for a long time, he barely left his house. But it also gives this series real depth: if he is still there to support his makeshift team, now he needs them to do the same for him.

The series is in four parts. I’ve seen two, just about – my constant blubbing having got in the way somewhat. This, for me, is the antidote to those appalling race riots, and if only all those involved could be made to watch it. Adnan has secured asylum at last. He has also won a sports scholarship to a smart school. His English isn’t just better; it’s like poetry, at moments. On tour, he’s the only Muslim boy, and while the team is in India, it’s Ramadan and he’s fasting. Seeing how lonely this is for him, Flintoff suggests they all fast for the day, a proposition no one resists.

In the evening, as the sun comes down, Adnan takes two teammates, Dylan and Hemi, with him to the mosque where they break their fast with delicious samosas, two pasty English lads among hundreds of smiling Indian men. If this sounds cheesy, well, again, just watch it. What sets this show apart is its naturalness, the feeling that the boys, half cocksure and half agonisingly vulnerable, barely grasp the cameras are there. What will they do next? Like Flintoff, we never quite know.

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It’s good to see the team play gully (backstreet) cricket in Kolkata, where they’re based. Clichéd as it is to talk about the language of sport, here it is an instant lingua franca. But oh, the British abroad! None of them have travelled; passports were secured for filming and placed in the safe hands of Flintoff’s right-hand man, the former Lancashire cricketer, Kyle Hogg.

The boys’ daring goes hand in hand with a squeamish and distinctly pathetic timidity. Sean has a fit at the sight of a fried pomfret. Ben admits to having swallowed not a thing since the Pringles he scoffed on the flight. They want KFC, not mutton curry and coconut dhal. Flintoff, who’ll eat anything, is stern. “Just try it,” he’ll say, as if to a toddler. His expression is caught throughout between amazement and gratitude. Second chances. Anyone who is lucky enough to get one should grab it with both (turmeric-stained) hands.

Freddie Flintoff’s Field of Dreams on Tour
Available on BBC iPlayer

[See also: A reckoning with Ghislaine Maxwell]

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