Cricket in Barbados

This post was written for the Just Back competition after attending two one-day Internationals at the Kensington Oval, Bridgetown, Barbados in March 2009.

Caribbean Cricket

The curvaceous girl in the next seat at the Barbados cricket ground taps me playfully on the arm and says something in Bajan patois which I don’t understand.  I smile back, noting the pile of Banks beer bottles in front of her.  She repeats it.

‘Oh!  Yes, of course!  Greenidge and Haynes stand on Friday.  The noisy girl behind us breastfeeding the baby.’  She smiles acknowledgement.  Sunday is baby’s day off, perhaps nursing a Banks beer hangover.  Admittedly the baby had a lot to celebrate on Friday.  Chris Gayle’s brief innings included eight sixes.  The match finished so early that we even had time to get to the beach for a swim.  Perhaps we’ll get better value today in the ‘Three Ws’ stand.  My new found lady friend remains irrepressible throughout the day, as the pile of empty bottles grows steadily.

On my left is an England cricket fan in an Arsenal T-shirt.

‘Do you go to many Arsenal games?’  I ask him.

‘Not really, I can’t afford a season ticket what with all the cricket as well.  You going on to St Lucia?’

‘No.’

‘Were you in Guyana?’

‘No.’

‘New ground.  Miles from anywhere.  Not safe to go out at night.  Hotel wanted a fortune for dinner in the restaurant.’

‘What did you do?’

‘Rang up Pizza Express and they delivered to our room.’

There is plenty of savvy travel advice from this seasoned cricket supporter.

‘In Bridgetown it’s easy to find a cheap hotel within walking distance of the ground, and there’s a good atmosphere in town after the game.’

Back to the cricket.  Harmison is eating a banana and guzzling a sports drink.  England have been on the field forty minutes and he’s only bowled one over.  Daisy Anderson  (‘Days ‘e turns up and Days ‘e don’t’) is bowling.  If Gayle hits one down to deep long on he’ll find Harmy with a mouth half full of banana.  The ball is likely to clear Harmy by about fifty feet the way Gayle hits it, but that’s not the point.  If only Sir Alex Ferguson were managing this lot.  Harmy would find his boot kicked for six before you could say ‘Wayne Rooney’.

‘Harrmy, if ye canna get yersel’ up at six and get some porridge doon ye, ye can starve on the ****** park.’

            Now it’s warming up, and so is the play.  England are bowling and fielding well.  Flintoff and Collingwood take great catches in the deep.  Then it rains.  It pours.  Over in the Party Stand nobody seems to notice that there isn’t any cricket being played.  The Flintstones have turned up.  And the Pirates of the Caribbean.  No Keira Knightley though.

            Long interval.  England have a reduced target and reduced number of overs.  Strauss plays a captain’s innings and we win.  We go off to take advantage of the helpful travel advice – a bar where the rum punches are five dollars instead of our hotel’s price of fifteen.  Caribbean cricket – there’s nothing like it!

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