Adelaide (part two)

So, where to begin……



It would be fair to say that the past 24 hours haven't exactly been the highlight of my trip so far.  I spent most of yesterday with my head in my hands, a sickening pain in my stomach and despair etched on my face.  A simple glance to either side would see similar expressions on those clad in red, blue and white.  As the clock ticked towards ignomy and with the sounds of the crowing Aussies on the bank next to ours, we kept an eye out for incoming bottles hurled from the most spectacularly boorish supporters in the world whilst we watched aghast as possibly the greatest capitulation in world sport was played out in front of us, it made for a sorry old scene.  The disbelief amongst our supporters was frightening and stark.  It seemed a lifetime ago that this game was ours to win.  But we kept cheering and singing past the bitter end.

That night we tried our hardest to avoid talking about what we'd gone through that day.  Six of us sat round a bar, a backpackers bar, just to make sure we didn't have to face any crowing Aussies.  But the harder we tried to ignore it the more impossible it got.  By the end of the evening we'd gone through the lot.  Strauss being incorrectly given out, the madcap runout of Bell.  Pietersen the sweeper, what were you doing?  Flat feet Freddie, the lack of batting depth given us by Jones and Giles, the poor umpiring decisions to get rid of Harmison and Anderson, that final ball of the afternoon session.

As soon as we mentioned one thing that went against us another would rear its head.  Later in the evening as I drank the last of my beers I bumped into Ian Bell (England batsman).  We talked briefly about what had happened that day and then the poor bloke had to put up with a drunken, emotional England fan, who blasted Duncan Fletcher's selections and poured scorn on the team.  I felt for both of them and myself.

I'm in Perth now.  I flew out this morning with a sore head and heavy heart.  All I wanted to do was forget and ignore the cricket.  You can imagine how delighted I was to bump into Shane Warne, Stuart Clark and Michael Hussey at the airport. 



Then, after my three hour flight, I walked into the arrivals lounge and straight into a media scrum as the Perth press converged on the airport.  There was Hussey again, being interviewed, Justin Langer, sat nonchantly talking on this phone.  I was travelling alone but couldn't stop myself blurting out something to the tune of 'for fucks sake, this is the last thing I need'.  A group of sorry looking English fans nodded in agreement.  A tanned Aussie dude looked at me with something approaching sympathy.





And to think it had started so well.  So many great moments on those first two days.  Before I left England I'd said I wanted to see a Pietersen hundred and it duly came on that second day.  I'd never dream I'd see Collingwood hit a double ton but he did.  McGrath wicketless, Warne bowling round the wicket, Lee getting thumped all over the place.  And then the wicket of Langer right at the end of the day.  I've never been involved in quite as crazy a sporting celebration in all my life.  There were people flying all over the place, phones going ten foot in the air, flip flops ending up 100 yards apart, strangers embracing and fists punching the air, it was bedlam.  An amazing night out followed and the nightmares from Brisbane had been erased.

The next morning we took another couple of wickets and the mood was equally positive.  And then the defining moment came.  Ponting, who'd lived dangerously throughout his innings up til that point, misjudged a hook shot, and Ashley Giles (in the side for his fielding) dropped it.  Game over………. 

Up until this point Adelaide had been picture perfect.  We'd met some great people, including a bunch of American girls, who we hung around with for a couple of nights.  Caroline, Emily, Emma and Karen had just got into town after staying in the outback for a month.  I'm not sure how pleased they were that it coincided with half of Britain turning up pissed.  After failing to convince them that cricket is far superior to baseball and not getting remotely close to teaching them some of the Barmy Army classic songs we gave up and drank with them instead.  They were fantastic company and gorgeous.  Good looking ladies are pretty hard to come by when you're touring with 7,000 English cricket fans.  And the envious looks we'd get when entering a Barmy Army pub with them were pretty damn hilarious.  As was this Canadian guy who thought the best way to impress Caroline was to get his geography hopelessly wrong and then become my best friend. 

On the Saturday night we went to one of the best nightclubs I've ever been to.  If you ever go to Adelaide you have to check out HQs.  I've never seen so many pretty people in one place in all my life.

The girls left on the Monday on a trip to Melbourne.  At that point the weekend had been a 100% success.  I wish we'd managed to persuade them to stick around.

But that was Adelaide and now I'm in Perth.  I've got a week off to forget about cricket and tour around Western Australia.  By all accounts it's a fantastic place to be.  I think I'm going to book myself onto a 3-day tour and meet some new people, do something different and top up my tan.  I haven't decided yet.  But I'll be sure to tell you all about it when I return.