Ok, first day back in work after my time off. As suspected, a whole host of problems, errors, complaints, whinges and moans to deal with. I was so worried about what was in store I hadn't slept a wink the night before, so when it came to leave the office at 2pm, I was a click away from phoning Moritz and telling him he could take a friend to The Rosebowl instead of me. All I wanted to do was curl up in a small(ish) ball and hide...
...but as I reached for the phone I got a text of Moritz himself, telling me he was available right now if I wanted pre-match drinks in town first. He'd stolen my thunder with a counter offer. I accepted.
The early afternoon sun was fantastic. Sat outside a town centre pub watching the world go by with a quiet pint and a friend. I began to warm to the day and considered myself lucky I hadn't pulled the plug on the event. By half past five we were at the stadium and finding seats.
What followed was a really enjoyable game of Twenty20 cricket. Hampshire batted first, and their run-rate was steady but lower than average. They set a reasonable target of 183 for Middlesex to chase. A very tense game....
...and here comes the best bit of the day.
If you've never seen a Twenty20 game live, or even on television, you might not know that it is a bit of a razzamatazz affair. Load music pumping out of the tannoy system between overs and in the interval; crowds cheering like football fans; mexican waves; the players wearing different coloured shirts like soccer strips. Two and a half hours of sport mixed with entertainment. Each player for the home team (in this case Hampshire) have their own theme tune that they 'walk out' to when they go into bat. Usually something easily recognisable so it gets the crowd pumped. The away side (in this case Middlesex) have to put up with whatever the stadium DJ decides to play on their behalf. As the opening batsmen for Middlesex were introduced over the loudspeaker...
...side note. Hampshire play in stylish dark blue shirts with gold trim down the sides and around the collar. Middlesex play in pink shirts and pink caps. Just pink. They may be the defending Twenty20 champions, but it's still pink....
...the DJ switches on their entrance music and out blares...
...The Theme to the Pink Panther. Henry Mancini's beautifully orchestrated tune. Within the first three or four notes the entire 20,000+ crowd were 'Do Do'ing along and laughing their heads off. From that point on, everytime a batsmen was given out, 'Another One Bites The Dust' by Queen came on, but as the new batsmen stepped forward it was immediately switched back to Panther. They often say that the crowd helps the home side to victory, but in this case...
...hats off to the DJ and Mr Mancini for removing any dignity Middlesex ever hoped to have.
p.s. There is an extra story to regale you with here. If you ever find yourself at The Rosebowl and visit one of the trailer 'bars' that surround the ground, always check they've given you what you ordered. With many establishments like this, most of the pints are pre-poured to save time, and they just have one version of cider, lager and bitter available. First round: "Two lagers please". Back to the seats to discover one of them is actually bitter. (Worst thing about it is, it was my pint and it took me half of it to realise. I just kept blaming the bad taste on the fact it was pre-poured and in a plastic glass!)
Second round: "Two lagers please". Well they can't make the same mistake twice can they? Back to the seats I go. My pint is now cider. Ok, at least this time I recognised the taste the moment I took my first mouthful, and I don't actually mind cider, but two out of two orders wrong, and twice out of two it's me who ends up with the erroneous pint.
p.p.s. Just remembered another tale (told you it was a great night). Twenty20 cricket is a fast paced game and needs big hitters. Lots of 4's and 6's required if you want to win. During Middlesex's innings their big number 3 batsmen swung at a loose ball and it sailed high and long heading for the boundary. Heading my way. Straight towards me. Faster and faster. For a split second I went into a major panic attack. Do I stop it? duck? Dodge? Instinctively I lifted my pint up and turned my body sideways to protect it. As it reached I realised it was going slightly to my left, out of harms way.
I watched as the ball flew like a comet into the crowd no more than 5 feet from me. Would a fan be brave enough to catch it? Would it hit someone? No. It smashed into a full pint of bitter, shattering the plastic and sending the ale everywhere! A spectacular sight (especially as I was just out of the firing line). The fielder who had jogged over to retreive the missile couldn't stop giggling...
...neither could I.
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