668 Neighbour of the Beast writes:
For the purposes of cricket tribalism I wore the Durham black training top – it was very hot – but by bringing along civvies-sporting Kent and Essex fans, I spoiled a good half row of Durham colours. The Durham supporters to the right had paid stacks for air tickets. The gobby Kent fan in the row behind had got his from the club. The rest of the row behind had paid over the odds for tickets on eBay – most were Sussex fans. There were some Ancient Egyptians seated across the aisle.
The pitch was miles away, the scoreboards shockers and once floodlit I gave up with them. I took binoculars, but as the Durham Doodahs didn’t turn up, my Kent pal got the best use of them. The best thing about the Rose Bowl is the New Forest ice cream on sale from the van – quality product and consumed while watching the Fatboy squad warm up for the final (we pondered Jacques as an apt addition).
From the first ball of the day, the row behind had revealed themselves as the annoyingly constant verbal diatribe types and as the final progressed, Kent Fan let loose his inner tourettes sufferer – with the sole saving grace of recognising that Tim Murtagh is indeed a bowling ninja. He put his hat on my head and we partook of the hat-on hat-off experiment. Hat on my head – dot ball. Hat on his head – boundary to Middlesex. Hat on my head – dot ball. I kept the hat on til half time.
When something exciting happened on the pitch, the jiggling breasts or bums of the dancers were shown on the big screens. The row behind approved. The eBay Sussex fans had come by train and so had to miss the last 20 minutes of the final. There were lots of moths at the end of the evening.