I am telling you, man "less cricket; more geography".

On Friday we caught a cab to the Vancouver Airport.

After the usual round of taxi-talk - "Where are you going?" " Where are you from?" - we disclosed the origin of our funny accents and our driver delivered his first ball.

He had played professional cricket for India in the Under-Sixteens, and Under-Nineteens, before a googly had rearranged his teeth and ended his playing career. But what he'd left at the crease had in no way diminished his ardour for the game.

"Did you say professional Under-Sixteens?" I asked.

"Yes" he said " We were paid. Not much. More in nineteens".

For the next 30 minutes, a veritable innings, we were regaled by this walking/talking/taxi-driving wisden.

There was, apparently, nothing good one could say about the West Islanders. We heard all about Greg Chapple, underarm tactics generally, and the ill-treatment of Murali ( Muralitharan - for those not familiar with the chap) by perfidious Aussie umpires.

But he was thoroughly approving of the Black Caps, the winners of both his and the ICC's 'good-guys award'

Daniel Vetori was the brightest in his firmament of stars; Jessie Ryder another. He knew all the first names - Grant this and Jacob that.

It was, I have to say, a largely one-sided conversation. But there was a brief respite - a momentary pause in the flow - when I suggested that Jeetan didn't seem to be quite as spiffy a spinner as was his father, Dipak!

Well, how's a bloke to know? - two totally unrelated Patels in the NZ Cricket team!

I was beginning to marvel at a this veritable cricketing encyclopaedia, not to say a nation which can pay its sixteen year olds to play, when out popped this little gem.

"Where is New Zealand? Somewhere near Scotland? Or is it Holland?

"Next door to Australia" my wife answered - a small but telling contribution to a discussion which had hitherto drifted over her boundary.

There was a stunned silence. He didn't like the sound of that at all!