17 March 2007

Oh what a day! Quite a few of us took tickets to Ireland v Pakistan in cricket. Donning official green jerseys, we trekked down to the party stand. Expecting a short day we began drinking the complimentary drinks immediately washing down the breakfast patties. A huge turnout from the paddies with a good deal of support lent from locals and expatriate English. A few early Pakistan wickets hardly registered as they settled down in the early middle order to put together a score. Then without warning Andre Botha came up with a spell worthy of whatever the cricketing equivalent of “Roy of the Rovers” is. Pure dreams and when Inzamam was out for one, the red stripe fuelled bravado led a few to say that the impossible might just be possible. All out for 132. The bars ran out of beer and had to be restocked for the second half.

Lots of signing (including what must have been the worst world cup anthem for any team in any sport) and screaming and though Irish wickets fell, runs were ticking over until the rain came. Brave and foolish lads, they resumed in the darkness despite having already won under Duckworth Lewis. Still when TJ knocked a big six to take the score to 133 (five more than needed on a reduced target) Then the party began in earnest. We had been drinking for 11 hours straight by now, and keeping upright on the rain soaked bleachers was proving difficult. The ground staff were trying desperately to eject us fearing an almighty catastrophe. Then it happened – the Irish team cam e out to see all the commotion and in a reverse pitch invasion joined us. The stewards gave up and the pa rang out with the sounds of U2’s “Beautiful Day” and the sky was awash with tricolours. There was hardly a dry eye in the stadium, but that was more to do with Red Stripe and the woeful quality of the singing than the emotion of the win.