Far from the centre of attention

World Cup blues: an England supporter ponders how to watch the big match © Getty Images

It is approaching three o'clock, and the tension in the Premadasa Stadium is almost unbearable. The stands, awash with English supporters and bedecked with St George's crosses, are a symphony of chewed fingernails. The net curtains of the players' lounge are twitching nervously. Even the ferociously impartial press-box allows itself to take sides for once. Everyone is anxiously staring towards the middle of the pitch ... where a game of cricket is most definitely not taking place.

It is abundantly clear that the day's play is a write-off. A huge brown stain, like a puppy-soiled rug, has oozed across the pitch at the far end of the ground, and no amount of optimistic mopping will be able to repair it in time. But that is not the issue at stake. What matters to all the Englishmen in the ground, is the plan for the rest of the weekend.

There has been a rumour doing the rounds, yet to be officially scotched, that the match is going to be rescheduled for Saturday afternoon. For a hefty body of travelling fans, with major shares in the fortunes of England's rugby team, this is causing a serious bout of divided loyalties.

"There's no way you'll see me for dust tomorrow," yells one bloke in the stand to the right of the pavilion, his words half-drowned by a raucous brass band. "I've paid good money for this, but let's face it. One-day internationals are two-a-penny these days, aren't they?" His companion, however, is less sure. "I'm only out here for a week. And besides, if I can't watch the rugby live, I might as well get the atmosphere at the cricket instead."

Atmosphere, it has to be said, is not in short supply at the Premadasa. In fact, it is almost Caribbean in places. A passable imitation of Chicky's Disco is thumping out trance beats to a posse of party-goers; a calypso band perches on a purpose-made platform, pausing only to allow the drummer to answer his mobile phone. Wandering guitarists serenade the fans for a cent a time. Everyone, everywhere, is busily tapping their feet - and only a few of them through impatience.

The Caribbean flavour cannot be entirely accidental. For this promises to be a seminal series for Sri Lankan cricket, one in which the country's tourism industry could be sent soaring to unprecedented levels Not only is the civil war in regression (the odd political blip notwithstanding), but on the other side of the world, West Indian cricket is busy pricing itself out of the market as it attempts to fill its coffers with pound coins ahead of the 2007 World Cup. Tickets for England's one-day internationals in Barbados next year are being sold for up to £145. A perfectly respectable midwicket pew at the Premadasa, on the other hand, costs a mere 200 rupees (£1.25). It is the starkest of contrasts and the greatest of incentives. If only the rains would go away.

But not everyone is too bothered by the extended delay. The traders outside the ground are making an absolute killing, not least the replica kit stall, where a convoy of Sri Lanka shirts are making their way back to their seats, with a glass of beer in one hand, and a bratwurst and chips in the other. It had been a very different story in Bangladesh. On one occasion, a bevy of England fans at Chittagong had been keen to buy their Tiger tops after the match, but the lone salesman had given up and gone home, long before they had filtered out of the ground.

Eventually, it is agreed that the match will not be dragged on into Saturday, much to the disguised relief of all parties. But the dragging does not end there. It is only at 6pm that the bleeding obvious is finally stated, and everyone is allowed to pack up and go home.

On this occasion it is forgivable - if the fans had wanted to leave, there was ample opportunity to cut and run. But for the Premadasa, this is the third washout in a row, after two aborted attempts to stage the Champions' Trophy final during last year's monsoon.

Eventually, it has got to be accepted that cricket seasons are just that - seasonal.