Among the Fans: From the Ashes to the arrows, a year of watching the watchers (Wisden Sports Writing)

224 Pages·2011·0.69 MB·English

by  Patrick Collins

AMONG THE
FANS
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AMONG THE
FANS
From Ashes to the arrows,
a year of watching the watchers
PATRICK
COLLINS
W I S D E N S P O R T S W R I T I N G
Published by Wisden Sports Writing and John Wisden and Co.
Imprints of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
49–51 Bedford Square
London WC1B 3DP
www.wisden.com
www.bloomsbury.com
First published 2011
Copyright ©2011 Patrick Collins
Print ISBN 978 1 4081 3041 4
eBook ISBN 978 1 4081 5456 4
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in
any form or by any means – graphic, electronic or mechanical, including
photocopying, recording, taping or information storage and retrieval systems
– without the prior permission in writing of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc.
Patrick Collins has asserted his right under the Copyright, Design and
Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
Commissioned by Charlotte Atyeo
Edited by Kate Wanwimolruk
Designed by James Watson
CONTENTS
Prologue vii
1 Point-to-Point in Sussex 1
2 The World Cup in South Africa 13
3 Tennis at Wimbledon 35
4 Cricket at Canterbury 51
5 Speedway at Eastbourne 65
6 606 at the BBC 79
7 The Ryder Cup at Celtic Manor 95
8 Rugby at Twickenham 113
9 A Night at Crayford Dogs 129
10 The Adelaide Test Match 143
11 Darts at the Palace 161
12 Snooker at Wembley 177
13 The Cheltenham Festival 191
Epilogue 205
Acknowledgements 209
Index 211
To Julie, with love and thanks.
PROLOGUE
Setting Out: The Three-Legged Dog
Some time ago, in the course of a column, I made some faintly
uncharitable observations about Bolton Wanderers and the way their
followers tolerated their ponderous tactics. A few days later, I was
taken to task by a reader, Mr Ray Heaton. He pointed out that football
supporters are allocated a club at birth, and that fate had given him
Bolton. He said he was born just four miles from the old ground at
Burnden Park, and therefore Bolton was his team. Then he added
something rather poignant. ‘Supporting them is a bit like having a
three-legged dog,’ he said. ‘You wish it had all four, but you still love it.’
Many of us understand precisely what he means; indeed, we’re
perversely proud of our predicament. We respect fate’s allocation,
because loyalty is what we do best. It is not a choice, but a condition.
And this, in a sense, gives the club a free ride. It may be over-priced and
under-performing, plagued by incompetents on the field and buffoons
in the boardroom. It matters not. We are not about to desert to Old
Trafford or Stamford Bridge, for we are stuck with our shop-soiled
inheritance, our three-legged dog.
For the moment at least, football is confident of our loyalty, but
what of the wider world of sport? How does it treat the people who fill
its seats, acclaim its heroes and pay its bills? And how do those people
feel about their treatment? In more than 40 years of writing about
sport, I have frequently attempted to interpret the emotions of the
crowd. It is a great impertinence since, unlike me, they have made some
sacrifice to be present. They have paid their own entrance fees, travel
costs and food bills.
And so, seeking to atone, I spent a sporting year watching the
watchers: observing the ways and enjoying the company of the people
who make our sports both possible and pleasurable. I went armed with
a whole variety of questions: What are they doing there? What are they
given? How do they behave? Are they there to see, or to be seen? What
do they eat? How much do they drink? How do they react to miserable
defeat and heart-lifting triumph? How has it changed? How much does
it cost? How much does it mean?
vii
AMONG THE FANS
The journey ranged widely, from Wembley to Wimbledon and
from Cape Town to Cheltenham, with memorable excursions to a
Test match at Adelaide and a greyhound meeting at Crayford. And it
began on a springtime Sunday, in a green and pleasant corner of rural
England…
viii
‘Do it right, Rosie!’
CHAPTER 1
POINT-TO-POINT IN SUSSEX
Buckholt Farm lies off Watermill Lane, in the village of Catsfield in the
county of Sussex. ‘Back of beyond,’ says my local adviser. ‘D’you have
a satnav? You’ll need it.’
In fact, on this sunlit Sunday in early spring, the route is splendidly
simple: a prolonged bounce down a bumpy track, skirting the potholes
and following the ‘Vote Conservative’ placards. Around the last bend
is a large field. And in that field, some 5,000 people have gathered to
enjoy the finest entertainment that the East Sussex and Romney Marsh
Hunt can offer.
At a glance, the Catsfield point-to-point might be a crowd scene from
an Ealing comedy, with Stanley Holloway as the loud-checked, deep-
satchelled bookie and Alec Guinness in half-a-dozen deft disguises.
The cast is familiar, an assembly of rosy-cheeked children, twinkling
barmaids, solicitous vets, a wide-shouldered farrier and an elderly
gent perched plumply on his shooting stick, mopping his brow with a
spotted handkerchief. The colours are vivid, from the shimmering silks
of the jockeys to the bright brush of green on the April branches. It is
how a fanciful expatriate might remember rural England.
Point-to-point is defined as steeplechasing for amateurs. Like
so many apparently English pastimes, the steeplechase was born in
Ireland, in County Cork, in the year of 1752, when Edmund Blake
1