Frayed nerves and chewed nails
Andrew Miller joins the frayed-nerves brigade at The Oval
Roving Reporter by Andrew Miller
12-Sep-2005
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England's day of reckoning dawned cloudy and anxious. "Last fight of the
Poms" screamed the rousing headlines in the tabloids, but there was more
flight than fight in the body language of the early birds at The Oval. It's
a truism of sport that the more it matters the less you're likely to enjoy
it, and that was indubitably the case today of all days.
"I'm very, very, very anxious," murmured Helen, an off-duty nurse from South
London, sat chewing her nails in the Peter May Enclosure. "It's not going to
be a pleasant day at all. I'm on the edge of my seat already."
Despite her anxieties, there was never any danger that her chance to witness
history would be passed up. "This man here," explained Helen triumphantly,
waving three seats down the row, "bought ten tickets last November. He's one
of my friend's brothers, and I love him!"
Did Alex have any temptation to flog them on Ebay? Maybe, but he might just
have been lynched. ""This vacant seat here is Jenny's," added Helen. "She
got back from holiday seven o'clock this morning, and she's in Tooting at
the moment.
"That guy down there is wearing his work clothes, which is where he was at
9.30 this morning. But a few cancelled meetings later and here we are. And
I've been working a nightshift at Guys. But I will stay awake no question.
It's going to be a long day and my nails are already quite short!"
"Ian Bell is due an innings," chirped up Alex, demonstrating that his
foresight wasn't always of Mystic Meg proportions. "I haven't seen McGrath
bowl really well and I don't think he will, but Lee and Warne have been so
competitive and it's a real worry they'll turn it on, get us out, and then
it's game on. But Freddie's a matchwinner and I hope he'll do it again
today."
"It'll go down to the wire, no question, but we're quietly confident," added
Haas from Milton Keynes, despite an equally premature opinion of McGrath's
demise. Haas had also bought his tickets months ago, but he was never going to let them out of his sight. "We resisted temptation, but there were no shortage of buyers!"
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One of those might have been Robert from Birmingham. "I got my tickets in
the ... err ... unapproved fashion," he whispered. "I paid £40, which I thought
was pretty good." Jerry from Rickmansworth shelled out rather more for his
seats - £100 - but then, he had no doubts that the end result would be worth
it. "I'm supremely confident," he announced. "If you can't bat two-and-a-bit
sessions on a good track, you need help." Better ring for the ambulance ...
Such bravado was the exception, not the rule, however. Bill and Martin from
Chelmsford were "nervy, extremely nervy," while a white-faced Trevor from
Rochester admitted he had come within moments of giving his ticket away. "I
figured if we won, it would have been worth not watching it," he explained
with the sort of tortured logic that only a sports fan can understand.
Only a smattering of Aussies dared to express their sentiments. "Of course
I'm confident," shrugged a rugby-shirted girl as she trotted past to her
seat. "All over by lunchtime!" Meanwhile, hope sprung eternal for Brian,
once of Down Under, now from Ruislip. "The odds favour England," he
conceded, "but you can never stop hoping! Warney's always been a sporting
legend, so it'd be the perfect swansong for him to come out with something
special on his last day."
By the end of the first hour, the confident had morphed into the anxious,
and the anxious had become the terrified. As for the rest, it was simply
unbearable to watch any longer.
Andrew Miller is UK editor of Cricinfo