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Published: December 31st 2006
Melbourne (2); Bowled Shaayyne !
The Aussie's like to rub it in !Tuesday December 26th to Saturday December 30th.
Having woken at 5am on Boxing Day I spent what seemed like an eternity tossing and turning like a child waiting for present time on Christmas morning before Steve finally knocked, opened the door and informed me it was time to get up. It was 6.45am.
I arrived in the City at 8.30am and made my way straight to the hostel where I dropped my bag, fortunately not the full sack but just what I needed for a one night stopover, before making my way via Global Gossip to the hallowed Melbourne Cricket Ground. It was cold, following the coldest Xmas Day on record, and decidedly overcast and as I literally marched up the concourse I felt the first signs of rain in the air. All around the ground was packed with people and the queues to Gate 1 of the Ponsford Stand were long and winding. As I approached an announcement came over the tannoy that play would be delayed until 11am. "That'll do me" I thought and took a parked myself down whilst the queues subsided.
I finally reached my seat, numbered A1 on the vertigo inducing front row
Melbourne (2); Bowled Shaayyne !
Who'd have believed it. Half way round the world and rain stops play ! of the top tier, via a journey incorporating three seperate escalators and a flight of stairs and as the players emerged onto the playing area I sat in awe taking in the magnitude of this wonderful theatre of dreams. I've been to sporting venue's the world over but this one probably pips them all and all I needed now was for the English lads to give us a day to remember. Unfortunately that was asking a little bit too much and the next six hours constituted one of the most one sided days cricket, all bar two balls from from Freddie Flintoff late in the day, that I have ever witnessed. It could have been worse though. After half an hours play sprays of drizzle started to blow beneath the roof of the stand and it wasn't long before the players were running for cover. Having only previously watched the Boxing Day test in front of the fire at home envious of the glorious sunshine the Melbournians were basking in I finally get to be there in person and the all too familiar signs of 'rain stopped play' appear on the scoreboards. Bloody typical.
The one highlight of an
Melbourne (2); Bowled Shaayyne !
That's it. History as Warney nabs No.700. other wise depressing day was witnessing the moment of history when the master craftsman, Shane Warne snagged his record 700th wicket. I stood and applauded, as did 85,000 others thinking how lucky I was to be here. I watched the final session from pitch level with a bunch of geordies and such was the nature of the days play that they left before big Fred gave us a little reason to cheer.
I was just preparing to hit my bunk after a quiet night in with a DVD and a glass of red when my mobile started to ring. I was a little concerned at first because I didn't think anyone would ring me from home unless something was urgent and I answered to hear a familiar voice. It was Steve Wrolsden, a lad from Underwood Drive that I used to work with some years ago. I'd had a text from him not long after I'd left the UK saying he was going to Aus for Xmas. He'd heard I was in Australia, tracked down my mobile number and now had given me the call and he too was now in Melbourne. We arranged to meet the following lunchtime.
Melbourne (2); Bowled Shaayyne !
And milk's the applause of 80,000 with the match ball after another fivefer. At 7.30am the next morning, ten minutes after wakening, I strangely found myself running along the South Bank of The Yarra. This health kick can go a bit far sometimes without realising it, and on the tram to the ground I got chatting to an elderly English lady. She was complaining bitterly, as elderly people do, about the dangers caused by the MCG floodlights !! I let her go on, it was quite obviously something she felt rather aggrieved at, her point being that she'd been burnt by being too close to them and added that her friend had caught it even worse. I looked across to see her plump little friend sat behind her looking like Jerry the Berry's elder sister. She was throbbing, her face and arms crimson in colour making her bright ginger hair appear almost strawberry blonde and I just couldn't bring myself to spoil her story and inform her that it was the sun that had caused the transformation, not the floodlights. Despite there being cloud cover all day you can still burn if not careful and this lady quite obviously wasn't.
The morning was gripping. The sun came out and England finally
Melbourne (2); Bowled Shaayyne !
Not many still there as Flintoff tries for a hat trick on day one. About the only five minutes us Poms had reason to cheer in three days. had the aussies on the rails and even though it was extremely short lived it was good while it lasted. I met Steve and his mate Ryan, who lives less than half a mile from me, at lunchtime and spent the rest of an other wise frustrating day catching up and exchanging stories of our travels. Steve's exposing of his sunburn attained in Perth made me pleased I hadn't already eaten and just before tea I thought I'd investigate at closer quarters the notorious Barmy Army so I went down to pitch level where they were congregated. I'd witnessed them at close quarters in Sri Lanka a few years ago but back then they hadn't reached the levels of notoriety that the name associates with now. Back then they were a small bunch of thirty something idiots, all blubbery white torso's and tattoo's who stood all day in the sun drinking the cheap beer on offer. Now, although their numbers have increased, they're basically the same tattoed men only a lot younger with even a fair few girls amongst them. They took up three blocks of seats and all available standing space in the viccinity and basically drank beer, sang
Melbourne (2); Bowled Shaayyne !
With ex colleague Steve and his mate Ryan at lunch on day 2. It's a small world innit. songs, more often than not questioning the sexuality of their Aussie counterparts and paid the odd bit of attention to the cricket. It just seemed a long way to come to do such a thing. I felt as though my flip flop's had suddenly become flippers such was the stickyness of the beer soaked ground as I mingled amongst them and it wasn't long before the chant of "Jimmy, Jimmy give us a song" filled the air. Jimmy is a fifty something rake of a man with shoulder length grey hair giving him more than a passing resemblance to James Saville OBE. Dressed in skin tight white jeans, union cross cap sleeved shirt and armed with a huge union flag he is their self proclaimed leader and when the call goes up Jimmy always answers. Bawling the Barmy Army anthem, line at a time, his words are repeated by the lemming like masses and, despite my sounding scathing, it is entertaining and quite moving. As the last line is finished all and sundry burst into a chant of Barmy Army accompanied by loud clapping. Quite a spectacle.
At the close of play I arranged to see Steve and Ryan
Melbourne (2); Bowled Shaayyne !
Day 2; Up in the God's. This shows the magnitude of the place. in Sydney and caught the train back to Belgrave. Half an hour into the journey I was drifting into a deep, ipod induced sleep when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I jumped up with a start pulling the earpieces free at the same time and looked round to see three full length black trench coat clad bodies standing threateningly over me. Two were balding and huge like Hollywood bodygaurds, the third an attractive not quite so threatening girl of about twenty eight. Not threatening that is until she opened her mouth. As the other two moved off to terrorise other unsuspecting passengers she asked me for my ticket. I thanked God I wasn't a fare dodger, handed it over then was given a lecture about how it was a 200 dollar fine to have your feet on a seat. I wasn't even aware my foot was on the seat I was that tired but I apologised profusely anyway. "We'll call this a warning then" she said, bringing my attention to the signs over the doors that I hadn't even seen. Ten minutes later they passed back and she let out a sly smile when her exxagerated stretch of
Melbourne (2); Bowled Shaayyne !
Day 2; Jimmy leads the barmy Army in song. the neck to check my feet position revealed no offence of any kind. When I finally arrived in Belgrave Steve was waiting and the double bed after a huge dinner was just the ticket.
The third, and as it happened, final day of the Test Match was just as depressing as the previous two. I travelled in with Steve and Lee but spent the day, apart from meeting them at lunch, alone. I chatted to two girls handing out "Tonk a Pom" signs to any willing recipients and asked them what on earth it meant, as if I didn't know. "It's when we smack your pommie arsses" was their reply. Nice.
The sun had finally decided to shine on Melbourne which I think is an inevitable sign after two days of cloud for the Aussie's to drink more beer so I spent the day moving from vantage point to vantage point, settling in each spot only long enough until the nearest group of drunken, gloating antipodeans got too much and England were thankfully finally put out of their misery just before six o'clock.
When we got back to the house Steve put some seed on his bird
Melbourne (2); Bowled Shaayyne !
A lesson to always wear sun block. Steve's ankle after an hour in the sun. tables and within minutes the garden was awash with bird species that we in England would have to visit a zoo to see, all within feet of where we sat.
With no cricket on day four Steve took me out to a few of Victoria's closer attractions. Mount Dandenong, which affords views of the City on a clear day though not unfortunately today was nice, as was the quaint little village of Sassafras but William Rickett's Sanctuary was my favourite. Billy, born at the turn of the century, was a bit of a loner who had spent two years in his younger life in Central Australia living with Aborigine's. During this time he'd fully converted to their way of life and returned to Melbourne on a one man crusade for their cause. He purchased and lived in a part of the Dandenong Forest with his mother and devoted his life to creating clay sculpture's, most of which were moulded onto existing rocks, depicting the suffering caused to the Ginnie's by the white man. His works were so detailed that it was probably only my interest in seeing them all that saved me from throttling the trainer wearing young lad
who jumped off a rock in front of me and landed on my flip flopped toe. Fortunately for him, and me, he just grazed it and all that came out of me was a stifled scream come groan and an even more muffled "little f***er" though his father must have understood because he immediately apologised on his offspring's behalf. Five millimetres to the left and I dread to think what might have happened.
The following morning, after a hearty breakfast I said my goodbye's to Steve and Lynn and prepared to move on. Their genorosity was second to none, they'd given me free roam of their home for almost a week and I left with my batteries fully recharged, albeit with the slight worry at the back of my mind that the journey I'd face later in the day would soon have them totally flattened again.
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waymo
non-member comment
Cricket? Still can't see the attraction lad. bloody freak!