A little before 3 pm yesterday Subash and I stepped out of the car (thanks, Christine!) and into the steamy Barbados evening to join the throngs of colorfully dressed cricket fans wandering into the Kensington Oval.
After a brief bag search and body-wanding at security, we walked into the mouth of the looming concrete spaceship of the stadium. Two young women were staged near the entrance giving out free samples of aged El Dorado Rum, one of the sponsors of the Twenty 20 match we were about to witness. As an incredibly classy and cultured individual, the first day I assumed the small samples were shots, the only kind of alcohol-in-small-container I have ever been exposed to. I quickly shot it back, my face twisting in a comical grimace. Subash then pointed out all of the others sipping casually at their cups, mulling over the taste and savoring it. What can I say, I've been living in Penn State for a long time.
I have been lucky enough to visit a few stadiums now, and while my experience is still limited I feel confident that the Caribbean stadium experience would be hard to beat. The crowd is friendly, joking back and forth, flags and team colors are displayed proudly, a band of absurdly dressed horn and drum players wanders the seats, playing songs and starting waves. I realize that the Twenty 20 matches are generally a little more party and a little less cricket, but even the test match I saw in Trinidad had a similar flair, with steel drums and our seat-neighbors sharing their jerk chicken and alcohol.
I suppose if you really just want to zone in on the finesse and details of the match, this may be an annoying atmosphere, I'm not sure, but for me it was a blast.
I made a real effort this time to watch the cricket being played instead of wandering around to eat stadium food (Fish Cakes - fried batter with tiny bits of fish mixed in, fried on the spot throughout the game, delicious, 7 for $5 Barbados). The more I watch the more I understand, and by the end of the match I could guess what was going wrong, what the Barbados Tridents should have been doing against the Guyana Warriors, and why they were going to lose at the last second.
There are a number of small things I especially like watching, and here are two:
- When fielders near the boundary make a real effort to stop the ball before it hits the boundary rope and becomes a 4. I like to see them really try and sprint and dive for it, even when there is a good chance it will be for nothing.
- The sudden change in look on people's faces (in the crowd) when they realize they have been put up on the Jumbotron screen. I love watching for it, the moment of shock and delight and the frantic waving that follows
Last night I learned about "bowling yorkers," a very clever method, and one that seemed effective as far as I could tell. A third thing I like to watch is Subash. It is like he is out in the ocean, floating on waves of excitement and disappointment as players succeed or fail. It doesn't matter which side is up to bat or fielding, and there isn't one particular team he wants to win, he loves it all, any cricket well played.
Near the end of the match things were getting close, and the crowd wilder. The smell of beer emanated from the men behind me and the trash-talking between the Barbados fans and the Guyana fans escalated to an absurd level. Even through all of this, the friendliness remained.
The wandering band came down our aisle and everyone danced, waving their drinks in the air. I wanted to join but was entirely too sober, and asked one of the people behind me for a slug from their giant glass liquor bottle (sorry, Mom!). They passed it down and when I drank from it everyone cheered.
After a brief bag search and body-wanding at security, we walked into the mouth of the looming concrete spaceship of the stadium. Two young women were staged near the entrance giving out free samples of aged El Dorado Rum, one of the sponsors of the Twenty 20 match we were about to witness. As an incredibly classy and cultured individual, the first day I assumed the small samples were shots, the only kind of alcohol-in-small-container I have ever been exposed to. I quickly shot it back, my face twisting in a comical grimace. Subash then pointed out all of the others sipping casually at their cups, mulling over the taste and savoring it. What can I say, I've been living in Penn State for a long time.
I have been lucky enough to visit a few stadiums now, and while my experience is still limited I feel confident that the Caribbean stadium experience would be hard to beat. The crowd is friendly, joking back and forth, flags and team colors are displayed proudly, a band of absurdly dressed horn and drum players wanders the seats, playing songs and starting waves. I realize that the Twenty 20 matches are generally a little more party and a little less cricket, but even the test match I saw in Trinidad had a similar flair, with steel drums and our seat-neighbors sharing their jerk chicken and alcohol.
I suppose if you really just want to zone in on the finesse and details of the match, this may be an annoying atmosphere, I'm not sure, but for me it was a blast.
I made a real effort this time to watch the cricket being played instead of wandering around to eat stadium food (Fish Cakes - fried batter with tiny bits of fish mixed in, fried on the spot throughout the game, delicious, 7 for $5 Barbados). The more I watch the more I understand, and by the end of the match I could guess what was going wrong, what the Barbados Tridents should have been doing against the Guyana Warriors, and why they were going to lose at the last second.
There are a number of small things I especially like watching, and here are two:
- When fielders near the boundary make a real effort to stop the ball before it hits the boundary rope and becomes a 4. I like to see them really try and sprint and dive for it, even when there is a good chance it will be for nothing.
- The sudden change in look on people's faces (in the crowd) when they realize they have been put up on the Jumbotron screen. I love watching for it, the moment of shock and delight and the frantic waving that follows
Last night I learned about "bowling yorkers," a very clever method, and one that seemed effective as far as I could tell. A third thing I like to watch is Subash. It is like he is out in the ocean, floating on waves of excitement and disappointment as players succeed or fail. It doesn't matter which side is up to bat or fielding, and there isn't one particular team he wants to win, he loves it all, any cricket well played.
Near the end of the match things were getting close, and the crowd wilder. The smell of beer emanated from the men behind me and the trash-talking between the Barbados fans and the Guyana fans escalated to an absurd level. Even through all of this, the friendliness remained.
The wandering band came down our aisle and everyone danced, waving their drinks in the air. I wanted to join but was entirely too sober, and asked one of the people behind me for a slug from their giant glass liquor bottle (sorry, Mom!). They passed it down and when I drank from it everyone cheered.
The game ended with Barbados losing. The Guyana cheerleaders danced, their hips moving in hypnotic circles, the foil pom-poms dancing in the evening air. A fan nearby had an American flag for no reason, draped over his shoulders as he hunched in sadness at the Trident's loss. We interrupted his internal eulogy to ask to borrow the flag, and then ask that someone take a picture.
It was an excellent three hours, and I feel like I am beginning to understand some of the nuances that make cricket a great sport. I can't guarantee I'm ready to make it past day 1 of an actual test match yet, but maybe, as this trip goes on, I will be.
Who knows, maybe by the end I will be like Subash, like the crowd around us, rising and falling with joy and frustration as my team bats and bowls, going for single runs and sixes, taking wickets and aiming for glory.
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