Jonny Bairstow, face like Viking thunder, fixed his gaze on the camera in front of him and, just for a fraction of a second, it really looked like he might actually do it.
He must have felt tempted, after having battled for 207 minutes and 147 deliveries to claw England back to a chance of victory in the first Test against Pakistan at Lord’s, only to lose his wicket and, effectively, the match when missing out on a rare half-tracker from leg-spinner Yasir Shah.
Not that we needed to be shown how gutted the 28-year-old Yorkshire terrier was, but the pictures of him not knowing whether to smash himself over the helmet or dig a crater in the hallowed turf had already made his mood crystal clear.
Then, just as he had managed to force open his eyes on his grief-mad way back to the pavilion, the sight of Sky TV’s In-Your-Face-Cam reverse-tracking every step of that sad journey from what seemed to be right under his nose might have been too much for even the most equable of temperaments to bear, let alone this fiercely competitive, flamingly proud, fiery-redhead.
In all honesty, who would have blamed him if he had stuck the handle straight through the lens?
And, had he done so, chances are almost all of the capacity crowd at Headquarters and those watching at home may well have united to raise a cheer that would have been heard in outer space.
Bairstow did manage to keep himself in check, of course, as did all the England batsmen who came and went on that sorry Sunday, from Alastair Cook to Jake Ball, all of whose private grief had been intruded upon in identical fashion, some from the left side, some from the right and one or two from right and left as the wielder of the equipment crossed their path in mid-stride.
But the mind wandered to how some former England cricketers might have reacted had that happened to them.
Think, for example, of Sir Ian Botham, back in 1981, returning to the Lord’s Pavilion in stony silence, save for the harrumphing of the MCC members, after bagging a pair in the second Test against Australia, the weight of leading a losing side having temporarily sucked all the joy out of the game for him.
Even if Beefy had managed to suppress the urge to wrap his Duncan Fearnley around the camera, surely the very least he would have come up with is a stream of expletives that would have caused the director to hit the red button double-quick.
Think of how another couple of Sky’s excellent commentary team, former skippers Nasser Hussain and Mike Atherton might have responded.
On second thoughts, don’t bother because something tells me neither would have agreed to let In-Your-Face-Cam within a postcode of them or their outgoing batsmen no matter how strongly the marketing men believed this to be a wizard wheeze.
For those who will never play cricket for England, one of the great joys is trying to imagine what it must be like to do so and if you take the emotion out of the game we may as well all retire to our PlayStations.
A nation’s love affair with professional football was rekindled in the instant Paul Gascoigne was seen shedding the tears that signalled he knew his booking against West Germany in the semi-final of Italia ’90 in Turin meant, even should England win, his dream of playing in a World Cup final was over.
One of the great moments in televised sport came about because the director of ITV’s coverage of the 1973 FA Cup Final kept his camera focused on Bob Stokoe, the manager of huge underdogs Sunderland as he raced across the Wembley turf to embrace Jim Montgomery, the goalkeeper whose breathtaking double-save had ensured his Division Two side hung on to beat mighty Leeds, the best team in the country.
The sight of a young Pakistan supporter’s wild celebrations on Sunday and the smiles of the players in return as they watched him on the giant screen were priceless.
The difference between those magical moments and In-Your-Face-Cam is that those shots, no matter how close-up in appearance, were taken from a polite and respectful distance, recording natural and spontaneous events. There is nothing natural or spontaneous about sticking a camera up a batsman’s hooter on the off chance he might start blubbing. In almost all cases, in fact, those England players registered just what they thought of having their privacy invaded by looking away from the lens.
As well as the men who talk, television producers, directors and cameraman do a fantastic job in offering viewers an insight into the experience of being an international cricketer.
But, even in an age where Big Brother, social media, selfies and something called Pokemon Go have replaced real life, there has to be a line.
Shots of Cook, sitting on the dressing room balcony reacting to the fall of another England wicket by nervously picking his nose were bad enough, but that’s showbiz, I guess.
For those of us brought up to believe it is rude to stare, though, In-Your-Face-Cam is just too much and the time has come to can it before someone with a bat in his hand decides to smash it to bits instead.
This piece originally featured in The Cricket Paper, Friday July 22 2016
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