Clydesdale: Redux - A Study in Contrasts

It’s amazing how things change when the sun comes out. A mere 48 hours ago, I sat here under thick cloud and felt like I was an unwilling participant in some kind of surrealist pagan ritual. Today, despite being midsummer’s eve and perhaps a more appropriate date for druidic activity, feels much more like a classic afternoon out at the cricket. With clear blue skies, when Bob Marley reappears on the matchday playlist one could almost be tricked into thinking this is Kingston and not Clydesdale. Almost.

Today’s atmosphere is convivial rather than unnerving. A much larger crowd chat amongst themselves, with many people making friends with the strangers in the lawn chairs next to them. The two gentlemen to my left, separated by at least a generation, become fast friends, swapping stories of games watched and played in and buying each other pints all afternoon. Groups of former clubmates reminisce about the good old days and provide a running commentary on the shortcomings of each team’s technique.

Perhaps the key difference today is not the weather, but Scotland’s opposition and the following they attract. Rather than Wednesday’s dearth of Dutchmen in the crowd, today there is a veritable cornucopia of Nepalese supporters. Many of them are familiar to me from their raucousness at the recent ODIs in Broughty Ferry, and they bring the same energy to Clydesdale. Hand cymbals are clashed, lusty chants of ‘Ne-pal! Ne-pal!’ ring out, and flags are waved with gusto. Having seen these fans in action three times now, my main takeaway from watching their consistently brilliant cheering is that the ICC is missing a trick by not paying a crowd of Nepal supporters to attend every international cricket match and having them act in a capacity similar, but opposite, to the professional mourners paid to attend some Chinese funerals.

Having been startled by the presence of paella in the catering tent on Wednesday, I realise today might be my only remaining opportunity to sample such a dish at a Scottish sporting event. I take the plunge and am thrilled to have done so. House of Tapas’ vegan paella is deeply flavourful, has actual fresh vegetables in it (something I’m fairly sure I’ve never seen in a setting of this nature), and comes in a hearty portion that I wolf down rapidly because it’s just too good to savour. This could be a contender for stadium snack of the year. The carnivore’s version doesn’t look bad either. The bar for what can be produced in large quantities in a sporting environment has been raised. Stadium chefs worldwide take note.

Ultimately, for all their exuberance, Nepal’s fans can’t cheer their team over the finish line. Scotland put up the kind of score they were unable to chase down in their previous outing. They have sharpened up in the field also and do not leak runs in the way they did against the Netherlands. The big target, a focused Scottish bowling attack, and some loose shots from tailenders going for glory put Nepal’s innings to an end with an over to spare and a 34-run deficit. It’s great fun, though, and there are few better ways to spend a Friday afternoon. The facilities may be on the Spartan side, but Tier 2 cricket has a special charm. Sometimes, as Wednesday’s game demonstrated, it’s because it’s all just quite weird. But, as today shows, it can also be because this kind of T20 can compete on quality and entertainment value with its more polished international and franchise counterparts.

Give it a try. A ticket won’t cost you much and you can watch a lot of it for free on the ICC website. The game needs support at this level to ensure there is a thriving second tier of teams prepared to challenge the more established nations at both T20 and ODI World Cups. The ICC also needs to see there is a market for this kind of cricket to encourage a more even distribution of funds between associates, the lesser full members, and the Big Three. If the likes of Scotland, the Netherlands, and Nepal are to have a chance of attaining full member status and ever playing Test cricket, they need your eyeballs and your pounds, euros, and rupees. It will be difficult, maybe even impossible, to break the BCCI’s stranglehold on cricket funding, but at least turning up to a provincial cricket club come rain or shine is a more enjoyable way of registering your protest than sitting at home and reading the never-ending stream of commentary on how unfair it all is.