To provide the best experiences, we use technologies like cookies to store and/or access device information. Consenting to these technologies will allow us to process data such as browsing behaviour or unique IDs on this site. Cookies may be used for personalisation of ads. Not consenting or withdrawing consent, may adversely affect certain features and functions.
The technical storage or access is strictly necessary for the legitimate purpose of enabling the use of a specific service explicitly requested by the subscriber or user, or for the sole purpose of carrying out the transmission of a communication over an electronic communications network.
The technical storage or access is necessary for the legitimate purpose of storing preferences that are not requested by the subscriber or user.
The technical storage or access that is used exclusively for statistical purposes.
The technical storage or access that is used exclusively for anonymous statistical purposes. Without a subpoena, voluntary compliance on the part of your Internet Service Provider, or additional records from a third party, information stored or retrieved for this purpose alone cannot usually be used to identify you.
The technical storage or access is required to create user profiles to send advertising, or to track the user on a website or across several websites for similar marketing purposes.
‘Whoomp it’s a six!’???!!! I don’t know if that’s a good way of expressing incredulity but that’s how they did in in the Asterix erm… graphic novels – so it’ll do. What’s next? The ‘Carlton Dance’ as the celebration for the taking of a wicket? As Asterix might have said – !@$@#! that.
Well, you did ask for it, so here’s a match report from a world-renowned cricket ground, which doesn’t feature any cricket whatsoever…
(Sorry it’s a bit long…fnirk)
Thursday morning. I wake up, bleary-eyed and hung over after drinking far too much rum the previous evening. I shake wake my slumbering room-mate awake and changed into my hockey gear.
We eventually stumble down to the minibus, one of two that are taking Legless (aka Sale Hockey Club on tour) down to Bridgetown that morning. More sleep required. More sleep obtained.
Eventually, we arrive at a sleepy and almost deserted Kensington Oval. It’s big, very big, the 3Ws stand dominating the entire vista…but almost half the ground is incomplete — the World Cup final’s temporary seating, once removed, left an arc from long off to third man (or thereabouts) absolutely empty. Very strange.
It was approaching 11am, and we were to play our last match in the group stage of the Banks International Hockey Tournament.
But first, a cheesy team photo in front of the Gary Sobers Pavilion. One of the girls ask why it’s called Sobers — can’t you drink in there? Knowing glances are exchanged. The atmosphere’s slowly building — there are now at least six people in the stands — and the hot Caribbean sun is beating down mercilessly.
Photo: The Motley Crew
http://s16.photobucket.com/albums/b47/Mahinda/?action=view¤t=Hockey_Group.jpg
Some of the lads pose for a few pictures, pretending to take guard at the crease pitch itself — no covers, not even a roped-off section, and this is a Test wicket! I look round for the stewards…there are none.
Our opposition arrive, and we get the hockey match started. We’re playing on the hallowed turf itself, just at the pavilion side of the square. It’s strange turf for hockey — very hardy, wiry grass, that holds your stick back and makes it a nightmare for the ‘keepers. Or ‘keeper, I should say — the opposition one is caught in traffic.
Sure enough, Dannie scores! Legless 1, Maple Club 0. Get in!
Photo: Triumphant!
http://s16.photobucket.com/albums/b47/Mahinda/?action=view¤t=Hockey_Celebration.jpg
It wasn’t to last though. I was set marking their centre-forward — a woman built like The Terminator. She didn’t even wear shinpads, she was that hard. Extremely skilful, possibly international-class…which makes her just a bit better than muggins ‘ere.
Photo: Defending a short corner, I rush out manfully.
http://s16.photobucket.com/albums/b47/Mahinda/?action=view¤t=Hockey_Short.jpg
Needless to say, the halftime score was 1-2. Their ‘keeper even turned up.
So, we turned around — this time, I was part of the thin white-and-orange line defending the goal at the Malcolm Marshall End. Unfortunately, they hit us on the break. 1-3. And then it got ugly. Knackered, I got subbed off…and the goals flowed. Final score was something like 1-7. I really needed a beer or three after that one!
Photo: Like lambs to the slaughter.
http://i16.photobucket.com/albums/b47/Mahinda/Hockey_SecHalf.jpg
Well, it’s not the first time a touring English side’s been handed a good shoeing at the Kensington Oval, Bridgetown…and it probably won’t be the last.
That’s some full-blooded reporting there.
You neglected to mention whether the six onlookers managed a beer snake though.
And what about mexican waves? I expect they foundered at the pavilion as usual.
Oh – today we saw a real cricket. I initially thought it was a small bird, and was mocked mercilessly, until it flew away hours later and my friends agreed that it did in fact look like a small bird when in full flight.
It’s hard to make a beer snake out of glass bottles, unfortunately. Not that we’d have noticed — we were too busy having a can of Caribbean whup-ass opened on us.
We did get some Mexican waves going at the main astroturf venue — so much so that they were reported in the national news. Bear in mind that Barbados has approximately the population of Hertfordshire, and you’ll have an idea how famous that makes me.
Oh yeah.