World Cup 1999

I had a flashback moment recently.  Caused by an email asking me to buy World Cup  2019 Tickets.  I'd seen quite a lot of the last World Cup held in England, in 1999.  

I have a erratic memory.  I  can't recall any of the games in detail or the tournament's precise format (there was some sort of Super Six Arrangement) or how many games I saw. (I couldn't resist and went back and looked up what actually happened, anything in red is me commenting on my powers of recall.)  We met somebody in the queue at the Edgbaston semi final who had certainly seen more games than us.  But we saw all of England's games in the qualifying group (No, wrong we didn't see Eng v Kenya or I think v Zimbabwe) and, I think, some other games as well.  Plus all the Super Six games, probably (No we missed some including the biggest game of the tournament, India vs Pakistan when the two countries were at war); both semi finals, definitely and, half the final.  I'll come to that later.  And although coherent strung together memory has fled there are moments, images I can summon up so precisely it was like I was there again.  A flashback.

This is a self - indulgent post on my World Cup 1999.  I can't vouch for the truth of any of it.  But this is how it seemed to me - now.  

It was Steve's idea .  He was getting married  and had decided to spend his Stag Do watching back to back Super Six Games in Nottingham and Leeds.  He'd also decided to buy tickets for as many matches as you could reasonably attend whilst staying employed and engaged.  (The guy in the queue had gone totally over the top.) He roped in another three of us; me Dominic and Roland.  I can remember Roland going to the first game and the stag weekend matches but he realised early this was a business for serious men so that was about it for him.  We had a rolling fourth member subbing in depending on availability, quite often Steve's Mum, Ann.

England had warmed up for the tournament with a couple of shrewd selections.  Firstly we had replaced Nick Knight, our most successful one day batsman with the one paced Nasser Hussain. Secondly we had selected Ian Austin.  If you can't remember Ian Austin he was basically Tim Bressnan's elder brother but 10% less good in every facet of the game.  10% shorter too, not necessarily 10% lighter.  Ian bowled a heavy ball (which he handed to Tim when his career finished) and would be, we were told, unplayable in England in May. (We had Adam Hollioake as well so could go 100% dibbly dobbly)

That first game: Sri Lanka at Lord's.  Lovely Lord's all pristine, white stands, green grass a built history of the most beautiful of games.  If you're sat in the Pavilion.  We were at the other end of the ground underneath either the Compton or the Edrich stands, which was like watching the match from an adjoining multi - story car park. Only the egregious SCG has a bigger contrast between how it looks  on TV and what it's like to go to a game.  I stomped off to get a coffee.  There was a bit of banging and by the time I'd got  back to my seat a low lying cloud of smoke was spreading across the outfield like a Sunday bonfire. There was an announcement over the PA.  You couldn't hear what was said - it might be "The grounds on fire  - run for your lives."  But no body else was moving,  rather than say anything I decided to wait it out and see if I died or not. England won solidly but with worrying hints of stolidity.

That's about it for that game. It was a day or so later  I realised the bonfire and British Rail tannoy announcement were the World Cup opening ceremony. 

Our worries about England were confirmed when we lost to South Africa at the Oval.  That game has been compressed to a single image, Graham Thorpe out leg before to Alan Donald.  The seats at the Oval (in the then brand new OCS?) were as good as the seats at Lord's had been bad and I followed the line of the ball as it swung in and hit him plumb in front.

I think it was in the group games I first saw Shoaib Akhtar. (No probably not until super 6s)  "Pakistan's nuclear deterrent" according to one home made sign held up in the crowd.  Yes those were the days when we worried about Pakistan, rational, well balanced, capably led Pakistan, having nuclear weapons.  Shoaib was rapid.  I don't always see the ball well, certainly not from side on.  But when Shoaib was bowling the ball was invisible regardless of the angle.  He came down to fine leg having bowled an over, all floppy hair, muscles and sweat, glamorous, and knackered.  Sucking in great gulps of breath.   His feet were massive and in a pair of bowling boots, proper boots,  Fred Trueman might have approved of.  A Pakistan supporter was looking for Akhtar's autograph but because of a partition fence couldn't get round to where he was fielding.  The supporter made a sort of clicking noise at him, the sound, I imagine, used to call a horse.

The Pakistan fans (clicking horse man aside) were stars of the qualifying matches.  In addition to home made signs  they had Chacha_Cricket and a group of fans who would colonise one part of the ground and cheer their boys on.  We had a chat with a couple of them at Trent Bridge.  Quite when I don't know but the writing must already have been on the wall because they asked us "Who will you support when England goes out".  To which we replied "India or Pakistan" "Ah I think you're trying to play the race card".

South Africa / Pakistan was the best game of the qualifying round.  (No false memory this was a super 6 game)  South Africa won but it went down to the final over, when Shoaib, very, very quick but a bit knackered went for about 16 leg byes.  I thought we'd seen the tournament winners.

England continued to shuffle, prod and wobble it around a bit but world cricket wasn't as intimidated by Ian Austin as we had hoped.  It was a weird group, South Africa aside every team lost a game or two.  India played England at Edgbaston and the winner would go through. The loser would probably go through as well as Zimbabwe needed to beat a good South Africa side to stand a chance.

England vs India at Edgbaston 1999, the best atmosphere of any sporting event I have been to.  The crowd was a 50:50 split but plenty of Brummie accents amongst both sets of supporters.  We were told at least twice "India in the cricket and England in the football." At the edge of the stands there were Indian supporters drumming, it was a hot, hot day like the days of remembered summers.  Support was passionate but without nastiness, apart from when a group of Indian supporters hissed Mohammad Azharuddin, Indian captain.  Yes hissed him like a pantomime villain, but because he was a muslim.  

And England were pretty awful.  I think we'd abandoned the Ian Austin experiment by now but it didn't go any better with proper international cricketers.  India got an OK score and England imploded under the pressure.  As perfect English summer days are supposed to but never do, this one broke down in a thunderstorm and play was called off for the day.  But by then Zimbabwe had beaten South Africa and England's chances of getting through were slim to none.  

Steve and Dominic went home that evening so I roped in cousin Mark for the final rights.  The ground was half full and nervy at the start of the reserve day.  I had cheered up a little over night.  I'm part of a cricketing generation that woke watching Ian Botham in 1981 and have since been cursed with a belief "something incredible might happen".  It hadn't happened since 1981 but Graham Thorpe was still there.  The Indian supporters had that look of people thinking "We've won this game, how awful it would it be if we go and unwin it.   

But Graham Thorpe was LBW again, this time to the marvellous Javagal Srinath (a questionable decision) and apart of a bit a rumble from Darren Gough and Angus Fraser the rest of the order crumbled to Kumble.  The Indian supporters perked up as it became clear they were going to win more of their supporters turned up.  The Hollies was full to capacity plus a few by the time it was all over.  People had dressed up, two kids in pyjamas as white as a Lord's stand and silvery turbans looked fantastic and got cheered like princes. There was dancing in the aisles.

Cousin Mark was a polite young man and thanked me for the ticket but did say it was shame he hadn't bought his trumpet.  He had checked his ticket which included all the many things you couldn't bring into the ground including musical instruments. By the time the game finished he was one of the few people at Edgbaston without a musical instrument in his possession and he regretted not being able to play the Great Escape / Last Post.  It could all have been so different.   

It is a golden rule of major sporting events that everything improves once England have gone out. Once the stag weekend came round there was a coach to take us from London to Nottingham; we had put Edgbaston behind us, drawn a line under it and were looking forward, going forwards, to the future. Can't remember how many of us there was but I the coach was pretty full. Our mate Richard, not a big cricket fan,  decided two games of cricket was a good chance to read the contents of his intray and other members of the party ensured they too had all they needed for a  weekend away.  

India vs New Zealand was a slow burner but a good finish.  The noise and up - for it - ness of the Indian support made you think they were on top all day but NZ stuck in there and ended up, just, winning.  Still that game is overshadowed by what was to follow.

After a night spent in an unremarkable Nottingham night club and then a truly remarkable Nottingham hotel with rusty dried blood on the bathroom sink it was onto Leeds.  Where we were greeted by the groom's Mum, Ann (who else would you have on a stag do) who had brought a pack up of Homeric proportions featuring the melon medley of the Gods (5 types of melon I think but stand to be contradicted.)  Ann also brought her tape measure as she was making waistcoats for the  ushers and some people hadn't given her their measurements.  They paid the price of having their waists measured in front of 20,000 Yorkshiremen.  As in the photo at the top of the post; but just look at the size of the skinny lad, scarcely worth the measuring.

South Africa were through to the semi - finals but a defeat for Australia and the best team in cricket would be out.  Now was the time to finish them off. But the hopes of 20,000 English spectators was nothing compared to the iron will of Steve Waugh.  It was the best bad innings I have seen (And I've seen a fair bit of Graeme Smith).  

I don't think Waugh was a particularly good one day cricketer and he hadn't been in good form, he still wasn't in good form, he just wasn't going to lose.  All I can remember is a succession of slog - sweeps and slog slogs into the leg side.  There was,  at least one, trade mark force off the back foot which flew straight to Herschelle Gibbs  who famously dropped the world cup.  If you watch on U tube though it looks like Gibbs catches the world cup and then throws it on the floor like a spoilt child with a no-brand name Christmas present.  (You'll also see Gibbs was on the leg side, so although I have an image in my head its the wrong image.)  Given that South African side was captained by Hanse Cronje and Gibbs subsequently confessed to match fixing in 2000 I've always wondered what was going on. But it was clear then and now, giving Steve Waugh a second chance never ended well and unlovely and unlovable he ground his team to victory in the final over and a place in the the semi finals.

We were at Headingley for another of the the Super sixes.  Watching Zimbabwe play somebody or other.  It was relentlessly grey and generally damp.  No play on the first day but me Steve and Ann still rocked up for the reserve day.  Watched some utterly cheerless cricket before the rain rematerialised and we went to a pub full of wet Yorkshiremen.  Back to the ground for a couple more overs before more rain.   The few people who had turned up for the reserve day had gone home or were still steaming up that pub.  But as the rain fell Ann and Steve persisted, peering out into the gloom of the Leeds skyline looking for a glimmer of hope.  It was, somehow, admirable.

Australia vs South Africa 1 was the click, when what had been a enjoyable enough tournament became compelling.  The first semi - final was New Zealand vs Pakistan at Old Trafford.  No Dominic that day so it was me and Steve who went up meeting Ann.  We weren't the only non  - Pakistanis in Old Trafford but we were in a minority.  They made a hell of a racket with these little plastic kazoo things, like a mini vuvuzela. Ann, Yorkshirewoman and retired school teacher wasn't just going to sit there and take the barrage and negotiated with the group behind us.  They could blow for: boundaries, wickets and other significant events, but were to keep quiet the rest of the time.  The lads behind us stuck to the bargain but did little good as it wasn't being adopted by the other 10,000 kazoo blowing Pakistani supporters.

And they had plenty to blow about. Shoaib had seemingly got quicker.  Why this seemed to be the case I'm not sure, I hadn't been able to see the ball before so how could I tell?  It might have been that the pich was quicker or because at times it was clear the New Zealand batsmen couldn't see the ball either, just watch you_tube.

It wasn't just Shoaib, Pakistan had a bowling line up of Shoaib and Wasim Akram for the new ball, spinners Saqlain Mushtaq and Shahid Afridi who span the ball in both directions, topped off by Abdul Razzaq and Azhar Mahmood who weren't shabby.  New Zealand were counting on "pace off with Chris Harris" and Old Trafford wasn't the ground for them, they were blown away.  

My final and abiding memory of the game was a New Zealand fielder (possibly Roger Twose) trying to catch the ball impeded by a wave of 10,000 onrushing Pakistani supporters who had decided the game was over once they saw the ball in the air and rushed onto the outfield.  Somebody should have done something, but the Umpires and other players were hot footing it to the pavilion.  Another time, another time. 

With Pakistan in the final it was down to Edgbaston for South Africa vs Australia II.  There are times in a man's life when he must decide what's important.  Steve had watched quite a lot of cricket that early summer and this game co - incided with his future wife's birthday.  He did the noble thing and handed over his semi  - final ticket.  

Ok he probably missed the best one  - day game - ever.  I'm a test match man really. But this game had the range of skills and changes of fortune you would expect from a test match just compressed into one, tumultous, day.

Australia's sprightly start.  South Africa turning the screw, Birmingham boy Alan Donald coming back putting his side in control,  (Missed Shaun Pollock's five wickets) Australia all out for not nearly enough.  South Africa batting and in control.  Shane Warne.  The same ability as Steve Waugh to impose himself on a match, but in his case assisted by prodigious skill.  Hansie Cronje, getting what, from the stands, looked like the perfect leg break, but the replay showed had come off his boot, given out caught at slip.  The game right back in the balance.  

And it stayed there.  First South Africa would put a little partnership together but once they were getting on top a wicket, or two and the game would lurch back to Australia.  It was clear we were watching something remarkable, so we gave Steve a call, just to make sure he'd kept himself in watching distance of a TV.  The ball went to the boundary and a kid in a Pakistan top jumped over the hoardings to throw it back.  "Back in your seat Inzaman." someone said. 

Lance Klusener.  Along with Shoaib the star of that world cup.  He hit the ball harder than anyone I've seen apart from Ian Botham and had the same ability to keep the ball on the ground when he wanted to.  He hit predominantly to the offside so it should have been possible to cramp him up but in the 1999 World Cup Lance Klusner was uncrampable.  And he battered South Africa close to a winning position.  But all the time wickets were falling at the other end. Klusener could have been out but Damien Fleming or Paul Reiffel (I don't suppose their Mums can be bothered to tell them apart) trying to take a catch on the boundary palmed the ball "over the bar" for six and South Africa went into the last over 9 wickets down and 9 (or so runs to get).

Then this_happened.  The first two (I think) balls clumped through the offside for four, one run to win, Klusner on strike, 3/4 balls left.  The field was up but  with Klusner's form he was bound to get one ball in four through the infield, surely.  3rd or 4th ball of the over Donald, at the non  - strikers end,  goes for a suicidal run, Klusner sends him back, he could / should have been run out but the ball misses the stumps.  Next ball Klusner makes a better connection but its still a tight run. This time though he's coming.  Donald is standing still.  Klusner keeps on coming, makes his ground; both him and Donald are at the same end.  Now Donald sets off.  But Mark Waugh calmly rolls the ball up the pitch and Donald is run out by a distance.  The scores are level; we haven't been told who goes through but the pyramid of Australian players gives us a hint.  South Africa had two chances to knock Australia out and had frozen. Watching it back Waugh rolled the ball back down the pitch at a fair pace but it all seemed to happen incredibly slowly.  I was thinking "something else must happen".  Quite what I expected I don't know.  Maybe a passing teradachtyl from the Hidden Valley of Rowley Regis to swoop down, intercept the ball between Waugh and Gilchrist and fly off with it.  Donald wouldn't have run though, he'd still be there now. 

I have one other little bit of mental video tape from the day.  Whilst Klusner was batting he clumped one through the offside with his massive bat.  It was coming, along the ground straight at us and looked like a four, but Michael Bevan flew round to cut it off.  Most fielders, even good ones would have dived, but Bevan stayed on his feet, picked up cleanly and threw in flat.  Just a single.  And that got Australia to the final.  Although in a game as close as that there must be hundreds of such moments. 

Pakistan vs Australia in the final.  Perfect; flamboyant, brilliant Pakistan, along with South Africa the best team of the tournament, against Australia, winningest team in world cricket but a bit out of form.  There was a problem, only two tickets for the final.  Steve got one of them on the basis he'd bought them in the first place so Dominic and I agreed to share a day, I got the first half.

Lord's has many virtues but there are problems in holding a World Cup final in a ground that, held just 25,000 and is a private members' club.  We could have made £2,000 / £3,000, easy, for the two tickets as the road from St John's Wood tube to Lord's was lined with Pakistan supporters who were desperate to get in.  Well they had the consolation that although they had a miserable day they hadn't paid £3k to see it.  The game was dead in an hour.  McGrath took some wickets Warne took some more.  Australia had got stronger as the tournament went on, everybody else blew up at some point.  Worthy winners.  I swapped with Dominic at half time.  I knew the deal was up but I could see the look in his eyes, Headingley 1981 they said.    

Although it was my tournament you probably couldn't call it a great world cup.  General opinion was it went on a bit (Not that I was bothered) and it certainly ended on a bad note.  But it had its high points, the two Australia vs South Africa games and South Africa vs Pakistan were all cricket at its finest.  Although it lacks a ground worthy of a world cup final the UK has some advantages for hosting a world cup.  With a large South Asian population and South African, Australian and New Zealand ex pats it's got a worldwide feel to it.  Plus British cricket fans are quite happy to watch games as neutrals, most games I think sold out.  It was also the tournament of a game happier in its own skin than it is now.  From big things such as India and Pakistan being in different groups so no guaranteed match between the two, to small ones like no music between overs, there was an attitude of: "This is what we've got, it's high quality, you are going to want to watch it."  And although you wouldn't want to replicate the ECB's / ICCs lack of competence there was a degree of freedom I don't think we will be seeing in 2019.  If you wanted to stand with your mates rather than sit in your seat on the other side of the ground you probably could.  If you wanted to jump the boundary boards and throw the ball back you probably could.  If you wanted to run onto the ground with, a Pakistani flag in one hand and inflatable ET and kazoo in the other and help Roger Twose take that catch, you probably could.  It was a peoples' world cup.

Returning home I watched the last rites as Headingley 1981, once again, failed us.  And felt rather bereft.