Everyone has had so many times in our lives where everything that could fuck up does and it’s not often that the reverse happens. But as I sit back on my bed in the house I’m staying in Wellington (my favourite city in New Zealand) I can’t help but smile at the sheer reckless good fortune that was bestowed upon me today.
I don’t need to mention again how many miles I’ve travelled in the pursuit of English cricketing happiness. That’s a well trodden and hopefully well told story. And I’m nowhere near close to racking up the sort of mileage some of the guys within the Barmy Army have. No, this isn’t just about the cricket.
In the last year it seemed at times like I was inadvertently travelling thousands of miles to avoid seeing something else very close to my heart and one of the few things that still connects me to my youth. Something I came face to face with in the most unlikely of places today.
I know the Smashing Pumpkins aren’t everyone’s cup of tea. But for me they were an integral part of growing up. In the nineties I saw them play in Brixton a couple of times and also the London Astoria two nights running. I also broke into the Reading Festival in 1995 to watch them play. And so when they reformed a couple of years back I was suitably excited. Not excited enough to buy the new album. Apparently it's terrible but I was still more than keen to see them for the seventh time.
But luck was against me. When they released tickets for their gig at the O2 Arena I was in Thailand and therefore couldn’t get them in time. When they announced they were playing at Reading I couldn’t find anyone to go with. I would have paid this time too.
Fast forward a few months and they announce more tour dates. And again my luck was out. This time they would play in London two days after I had booked my flight to leave the UK for Australia.
And the pattern continued. When I arrived in Sydney I found out they were following up the UK tour by touring this part of the world. Tom already had his ticket for the 29th March. Fe and I had scheduled one night back in Sydney on the way home at the end of our holiday in New Zealand. That date? The 30th March.
I didn’t even bother to look at the New Zealand dates. Sure enough when Tom sent them to me they were playing in Wellington two days after I left town, in Auckland while I was in Wellington and in Christchurch where the cricket tour didn’t go to.
So I was faced with a dilemma. Tom had floated the idea that I should change my flight back to Sydney a day early so we could watch the gig together. But when I looked into this it seemed to difficult. There was only one plane I could get on the Saturday and that didn’t get into Sydney until 6.30pm. If it was late or cancelled I’d miss the gig. Also I didn’t know what I’d do with all my baggage. And the cost of a ticket to the gig and that of changing my flights were around $300. It just didn’t seem feasible.
Fast forward again. This time to last Sunday night and I’m out with Fe in town. We’re having a few drinks, England are one day away from victory in the cricket and Fulham are a couple of hours away from playing Everton in their latest must win game of the season. For some reason the topic turned to the Pumpkins.
Maybe it was the wine or the good mood or the fact that I’d had one of those nagging feelings in the back of my mind for a few weeks but I started floating the idea that I should throw caution to the wind and try and make the gig.
If it was anyone but Tom going in any other country I don’t think I’d have bothered. But if there is one person on this earth who enjoys the Pumpkins more than even I do it’s him. And we have shared so many drunken evenings over the last 16 years together listening to them that taking the opportunity to watch them live on the other side of the planet together was too good to pass up. It literally is a once in a lifetime opportunity.
And thankfully Fe agreed. She thought I should go for it. And so I resolved to chase it up in the morning. A morning that started with a text at around 3am informing me that Fulham had won only their fourth game of the season. A lifeline to safety! The text had roused me from an alcohol induced comatose state but I enjoyed going back to sleep having happy football thoughts for once.
A few hours later and bleary eyed I was at the cricket eagerly awaiting victory. In only the second over of the day New Zealand lost the first of the four wickets we needed to win. Half an hour later the second went down so I walked back round to the press box to await the conclusion and record the interviews. It was slightly disappointing to be walking away from the Barmy Army just as our hour of glory approached. I’d been in there for so many bad times now I wanted to experience the good stuff. But as I’m getting paid to be here I’m not going to complain.
No further wickets had fallen by the time I got round to the press box and I sat on the steps near the top of the stand with another journo called Graham watching the action unfold below. For ten minutes of so we chatted about general stuff. And under a golden sun the players reached the halfway point of the middle session which signaled the drinks break. We carried on our conversation as the PA started on another announcement.
“……that’s the drinks break now ladies and gentlemen. And let me take this opportunity to remind you that the Smashing Pumpkins and Queens of the Stone Age are playing in Wellington on Friday evening”
“Yes, I am aware of that” I thought to myself “I leave town tomorrow and my favourite band play two days later”
“……Unfortunately tickets have sold out”
This made me feel a little better about things
“………But fortunately for us, Billy Corgan, lead singer of The Smashing Pumpkins is a keen cricket fan and is here watching the game”
At which point ‘1979’ started playing out over the PA system.
“What?!!!!!” I was aware that Graham was talking but I’m not sure what about. I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. As the oh-so familiar opening bars of ‘1979’ played out, the cricketers on the field supped their water unawares, the Barmy Army stretched their legs and I stood there in shock. “Billy Corgan is here? Where the fuck?”
“You’re a fan are you mate?” Came a voice from my right. “He’s only over to the right of the stand in the hospitality tent” I swiveled my head to see a bloke who’d helped me with my computer on the first day. It was just by chance that he was standing there.
Within a second I was gone. I raced down the steps, past the blue shorts and white T-Shirt brigade members eating their sandwiches and dashed along the walkway at the front of the stand. As I reached the end I looked over and saw four figures chatting on the balcony of the hospitality tent next to where I was. Amongst them the unmistakable figure of Billy Corgan.
Although I’m sure he was unaware of my presence I still felt slightly awkward as I stood there. It was all so bloody surreal. Of all the places in the world and all the times to see Billy Corgan, 11.30 on a Monday morning at the Wellington Cricket Ground in New Zealand is by far the least likely. It was crazy. Especially considering the conversation I’d only had with Fe the night before. As signs that I should make the gig go you couldn’t get much more obvious.
I walked back up to the top of the steps in a bit of a daze and immediately tried to call Tom to tell him the news. He wasn’t answering and when I got back to the press box I thanked Peter for alerting me to where Billy was and then pushed it by asking him if he could arrange for me to meet him. He agreed to try and after texting someone in the know and receiving no reply he said he’d go down and find out.
As I watched him walk off down those steps and disappear from view my attention returned to the cricket. England still needed two wickets for victory and all of a sudden I was starting to hope they didn’t get them. At least not right now. It was crazy. I’d waited for this moment for so long and now not only had my attention been taken away I was actively hoping it didn’t happen. The problem being that I knew as soon as England won I’d have to get my recording equipment and go to the press conference. And if that happened any chance of meeting Billy Corgan would go straight out the window as he’d no doubt leave the ground after the game finished.
Ten minutes later New Zealand were hanging on and Peter still hadn’t returned. Hundreds of imaginary conversations were running through my mind about what I’d say. Last night’s conversation with Fe about taking the chance to see them, missing them play in the UK, Sydney and NZ. All those nights listening to their music during the 90’s. What tune I’d say if he asked what I’d most like to hear played live. ‘Starla’, ‘Rocket’, 'Obscured’? I was getting a little ahead of myself by this point.
With thirtyfive minutes to go before lunch New Zealand lost their ninth wicket and there was still no sign of Peter. Almost fifteen minutes had passed since he’d left me standing on those steps. My imaginary conversations had run dry and my attention was once again fully back with the cricket as Monty Panesar came on to bowl.
Camera at the ready, but with very little battery left, I was aware that as much as I wanted to capture the final moments of the Test I also wanted to leave myself enough power to take a possible photo with Billy Corgan. The flashing indicator told me I had less than 15 minutes left. Cricket it was, for now. One ball in. Nothing happened. Second ball. Again nothing. I was guessing now. Who could tell when the last wicket would fall? I could be wasting my battery videoing nothing at all. Third ball.
(For some reason my blog will only post videos if I post them separately. So I'll have to point you in the direction of the video above at this point)
I had to keep my professional hat on as the final wicket fell but I allowed myself a broad smile as the players converged on the field and the Barmy Army roared their approval. The Kiwi spectators near me applauded gamely and the journos started to finish off positive copy for the first time in 9 months. Meanwhile I’d spotted Peter at the foot of the stairs.
“Sorry mate, TV have got him now, they’re not letting anyone else get a look in”
Ah well, probably for the best.
“He’s still down in the hospitality bit but they’re not letting us near him”
Hmmmmm. I looked out onto the ground and saw the New Zealand captain being interviewed. I realised that I had a little more time than usual. It wouldn’t hurt to go down and see if I could get another photo. And so I paced it to the hospitality tent. I walked round the back and saw a security guard barring the way. She greeted me with a smile that said ‘don’t even ask’.
It was now the turn of Michael Vaughan to be interviewed on the pitch. So I knew I had very little time to get my recording equipment from the press box at the top of the pavilion and back into its basement where the press conference would take place. I was starting to think I should give up when I spotted Billy. Dressed in black, with a panama hat and much smaller than I’d have thought he looked as though he was about to leave.
I was almost hopping around as the sounds of Michael Vaughan’s interview drew to a close. It was now or never. Either Billy walked out now or I had to leave. It was in the lap of the gods. And for the third time in the day they smiled down upon me. He started walking towards me and as he passed the security guard I introduced myself, asked for a photograph, told him something he’d heard a million times (big fan, seen them loads, loved the band, was hoping to see them in Sydney, recently took a picture behind a tree in a mock up of one of their early posters etc etc) and tried to remember what he said in return.
It wasn’t a great deal but he was obviously experienced in dealing with the star struck maniacs that hang around the entrances to hospitality tents. He was really pleasant, agreed to the photo, pulled a weird pose and then he was gone. Leaving me to dash excitedly to the press box and ring Tom to tell him the news. I don’t think my voice has ever been more high-pitched than it was throughout that phone call.
All of which meant that I got to record the post match interviews without a problem and toasted England’s victory all the while. Soon after I met up with Fe and we shopped our way round Wellington while she got bored of me telling her the same three stories over and over again.
We were staying at Fe’s relations that night so I popped into town to see Mark and Nathan for the first time as winners and the last time before we meet up again in Napier for the third and final Test match.
But the good luck didn’t stop there. For a while now Fe and I had been trying to get our stay in Australia on the way back home extended by a few days. All the flights were booked up and despite calling three or four times a week since leaving Australia we hadn’t been able to change them. But if my luck was ever going to change it was going to be today. And so it proved as we were informed two people had cancelled their flights and that we could now head back on the 4th April rather than the 31st March. All in all it was quite a day. And it capped off an amazing stay in Wellington. A fantastic city and place with a real buzz about it.
Sadly my luck wasn’t set to last past the night. We were scheduled to fly back to Auckland the next day. And we got up early to catch our 8.25am flight because that’s what our itinerary said. But when we got to the checking in desk we were informed that our plane was already on the runway. Our flight had been moved forward but they hadn’t felt the need to tell us. A five hour wait loomed until the next plane and they even tried to charge us $50 each. Tried to.
And we’ll just have to wait and see whether the final piece of the jigsaw falls into place. I still have to find out whether I can bring my flight to Australia forward by one day so I can attempt the 2,000 mile dash to see The Smashing Pumpkins headline the V Festival in Sydney on the 29th March. But even if I can't I'll always have the memories of one ridiculous day in Wellington. A day that coincided with one other thing. Billy Corgan's birthday!
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