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This quarter LIAT will be flying cricketers and fans around the
Caribbean as England take on the Windies in what has always been one of
the most fun and spirited contests in world sport. With Cricket being
such a massive part of Caribbean cultural heritage, Jason Thompson take a look at the lifeblood of a successful tour: the fans.
There are two tours an English cricket fan must experience before he meets his maker: the Ashes in Australia and the West Indies in the Caribbean. The Ashes carry the historical kudos of being the contest that spawned Test cricket and remain arguably the game’s greatest prize, but for sheer unadulterated fun, mixing with like-minded cricket lovers and watching sport in beautiful weather-blessed surroundings, the Caribbean is hard to beat. Of course the West Indians have historical significance too, from the sepia-tinted days of Learie Constantine to Sonny Ramadhin and Alf Valentine’s twirling heroics at Lords in 1950, on through the eras of Headley, Sobers, Lloyd, Richards and Lara, the region has produced some of the finest players the game has known. England, the West Indies and cricket are also inextricably linked by a shared colonial heritage, a fact so eruditely extolled in CLR James’ Beyond a Boundary that many call it the finest sporting book ever penned. James describes cricket’s historical and social context, how it shaped the regional culture, his life and future political career, and influenced his understanding of issues of race and class. But, when the West Indies first tweaked at the outer edges of my consciousness, I was a 10-year-old sitting watching TV in a cold English kitchen and knew nothing of this. All I knew was that there was something exotically unfathomable about the West Indians; the endless exuberance, the high-fives, the flourishing shots, the cavalcade of bouncers. It was less romantic I suspect for English batsmen staring down the barrel as Garner, Holding, Marshall and Patterson roared in, but for me, with the emotional detachment of a half-hour BBC2 highlights package, my whimsical imagination was given full rein. And there was one thing that stood out above all else, on that peculiarly orange-hued screen atop our kitchen counter – the fans. I’d seen English counties take on touring teams in an atmosphere akin to a parish council meeting, where corduroy-wearing men hunched over scorebooks tutted huffily at anyone within 20 yards. I’d even been on a school trip to Lords, the vaunted home of cricket, to watch the 1985 Aussies; we weren’t allowed to make banners or noise and were to remain seated until close of play. This was different; truly another world. These guys were swinging around the stanchions like Soho pole dancers, invoking their fellow fans to make merry hell to a constant backbeat of conch shells and calypso. They were wearing flamboyant outfits, drinking, singing, partying, barracking the English players, charging onto the outfield at the fall of a wicket; damn it some of them didn’t even seem to be watching the cricket at all. That was two decades ago and the heyday not only of West Indian cricket but of West Indian fandom, with supporters such as Gravy, ‘Uncle Lester’ Armoogam, Pappie the Bugler, Mayfield and DJ Chickie becoming stars in their own right. Today, some have suggested the team’s flagging fortunes have similarly wilted the fans’ spirits and that the ICC’s fun-throttling administration of the West Indies World Cup in 2007 might have sounded a death knell for the sport regionally. It’s a depressing thought, but is it true? Is there no more fun in the sun at a Caribbean cricket match? “People love the Caribbean; the calypso cricket, the hospitality and the love of partying. Our door is always open to people we meet as friends,” says Peter Matthews, widely regarded as West Indies’ No.1 fan. Matthews, who wears a tall, colourful top hat and is famed for his enthusiastic flag-waving throughout games, has followed the West Indies home and abroad for 25 years. “There’s nothing like it; whipping the crowd up, getting a Mexican Wave going, the banter between the players and the fans, just having a ball. You have to go out there with passion, love and truth to contend and support what you believe in,” says the man who can’t watch cricket on television. “I know the fun of being on the ground; I know the pain, the agony, the joy and you just can’t get it from the TV screen. Sitting in the sun and liming with the boys, having a few beers, that’s how I like to enjoy my cricket. “Cricket people around the world tend to be like-minded and, whether you’re supporting different teams or not, when 5.30pm comes we knockin’ a bottle until the next morning. I tell people cricket is such a great game. You can start off drinking; early part of the game you see a four or a six you drink, in the middle of the day if your team goin’ good you drink, or, if your team goin’ bad you drink. Any way you take it, you win.” It’s an uncomplicated philosophy and one which is wholeheartedly endorsed by a large number of West Indians as well as England’s No.1 fans, the Barmy Army. “What I like about cricket and the Caribbean tour especially is the way people mix,” says Barmy Army media officer Paul Winslow. “I follow football as well, and there the club and national rivalries mean I’ll mostly just stick with my own friends. It’s not like that with cricket; fans of either side mix freely and drink and party together.” Music is integral to Caribbean culture and, alongside a partying mentality and love of the game, was fundamental in the formation of the most famous West Indian supporters group of modern times, The Trini Posse. “I had been away from Trinidad for eight years doing my dentistry training and when I got back the first thing I wanted to do was to watch some cricket,” says Trini Posse co-founder Nigel Camacho. “The first opportunity was a Test match against Australia in Barbados in 1991, so a group of eight of us got together with our music box and headed across to the Kensington Oval.” The trip went so well they vowed to make Barbados an annual pilgrimage. The following year saw the one-off Test with South Africa, which was boycotted by the Bajan public because one of their own, Anderson Cummins, was not selected. Undeterred, Camacho and friends, around 40 of them this time, had come to have a good time. “We were virtually the only people in the ground. We had gone with all our regalia and our flags and were determined to have fun, so we were making plenty of noise and playing our music,” says Camacho. “The following day the newspaper came out and underneath a picture of us the caption read: ‘The boycotted Test match… except for the Trini Posse’. That’s where the name came from, we liked it and so it stuck; the Trini Posse was born.” The mix of music, partying and fanatical support of the West Indies took hold and soon around 100 people were making the yearly jaunt to Barbados. The Posse even became sponsored. “We were literally being paid to go to Barbados and watch cricket,” exclaims Camacho, his voice etched with incredulity. “It was a tremendous, tremendous time because apart from the cricket in the day there was plenty of nightlife as well. It was just a whole week of fun.” Eight friends going to watch a cricket match in 1991 has, 18 years later, led to a 1,500-seater stand erected in their honour at Trinidad’s Queen’s Park Oval. Camacho is still amazed at the turn of events. “When we went in 1991, all we had was a little yellow music box and we just sat there with our cooler and played music all day, having the grandest time. We had a passion for the game which, coupled with being young and having a good time, just naturally progressed into the Trini Posse. It was wonderful and it became an obsession; it became a cult.” There are unmistakeable similarities between the Barmy Army, who will bring around 5000 fans to the Caribbean this year, and the Trini Posse, as Winslow explains: “There’s a definite synergy, a meeting of minds if you like. We are famed for the way we generate a crowd atmosphere and have a good time. The West Indian supporters have always done that as well. It’s all about fun and crowd participation, and music is key for both. In fact the Trini Posse is the only fan group that has ever out-sung us (on the last tour) so we will have to restore the balance this time.”
It was in the Trini Posse Stand that I first experienced cricket-watching West Indian style. Not that music was uppermost on my mind; rather it was a dishevelled looking man shuffling around the rows with two buckets pulling his arms to the floor shouting, “Cold beer! Cold beer!” Now, beer warmth is a subjective topic, especially in 30 degree heat, and my friend seemed to sense my I-don’t-care-he-brought-it-to-us expression. “Cool yuhself nah, ah next man comin’, watch.” And of course he was right – along with the nuts man, the pie man and the souvenir man. And so it was all day. With the beer issue resolved – and frankly that would’ve been enough – I was freed up for other new experiences. Next up was picong. Crowd involvement is part of sport but there’s a delight in the West Indian crowd interaction with the players that is unique – it’s a sport in itself. As one fielder dived full length for a ball near the boundary rope and came up with nothing more than a brown stain a spectator shouted: “What happen, yuh mess yuhself?” Cue riotous laughter, back-slapping and rib-jabbing. With the arrival of Brian Lara at the crease, and two crisply struck fours from successive deliveries, the crowd noise intensified. The bowler then stopped, mid run-up, complaining of a twingeing hamstring. Cue hoots of derision. “The man doh want tuh bowl tuh Lara. He ent pull no tigh muscle, he pull ah heart muscle.” As Lara’s fours slapped into the boards another feature of Caribbean cricket had become evident: the Carib Girls. Each time a boundary was struck, high-tempo soca music fired up and the Carib Girls, an eight-strong troupe dressed in skin-tight blue-and-gold shorts and tops, jumped up and began to wine enthusiastically. The art of wining is an article in itself but is essentially the rotating of the hips in a suggestive manner to music. Caribbean women are born to it, and when performed at speed it’s a mesmerising spectacle, like a washing machine on fast spin.
Watching is one thing, but unfortunately a succession of reddening tourists, their inhibitions loosened by rum and sun, had convinced themselves wining looked easy and began shakin’ their “bad thang” down to the ground, before needing help to regain the perpendicular. Come what may, it will always be a popular destination for travelling English fans, as the Barmy Army’s operations manager Katy Cooke explains: “It’s not hard to see the appeal of a Caribbean tour; the West Indian love of life, passion for cricket, knowledge of the game, weather, friendly people and crowd atmosphere make it an amazing place to sit and watch cricket. Furthermore, each island has its own distinct personality so it’s effectively six tours in one.” The consistently huge home support of the 1980s might not be ever-present now but there won’t be many spare seats when the English come to town. And perhaps the Windies are due these leaner years in any case. As I sat on my kitchen stool all those years ago watching Botham, Gower, Gatting and Gooch being blasted into submission there certainly wasn’t a sense of mercy extended, and nor should there be. Whatever happens, fans will keep the faith. “I’m with the team through thick and thin,” says Matthews. “That’s what it’s all about, and they know that. I love cricket and the passion will always be there; it’s part of my West Indian heritage. “As long as I got breath brother, you’ll see me at the cricket.”
Guide to West Indies tour hotspots
BARBADOS |
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