December 24, 2001

In love with the Barmies

- Jonathan Dyson

As every fan knows, definitive moments in sport don't just occur on the pitch. During the middle session of the second day in Bangalore, a teenage Indian fan in the Western stand, close to where we were sitting, strutted along a gangway, enthusiastically waving a small banner above his head. It read "Bangalore Loves the Barmy Army!!"

It was perhaps the most touching moment in a Test series that has seen the development of a wonderfully healthy relationship between English and Indian fans. The fact that it has emerged amidst several disputes between the ECB and BCCI, and occasional spats on the pitch, makes it even more creditable.

And as I had suspected all along, the Indians really have come to love the Barmies. The banner paraded at Bangalore merely confirmed the fact that the Indian fans have realised how similar the spirit with which we enjoy our cricket is to theirs, and in the process have grown deeply fond of us.

Reportedly, Australian fans endured a hard time when they toured India earlier this year, receiving some rough treatment from various sections of the crowd, some of whom even chose to throw pieces of chicken at them.

Judging from various conversations I have had with Indian fans, it seems that the Aussies were provoking the home supporters, and, some feel, deserved everything they got. Happily, English fans have a different mentality. We are simply there to enjoy the cricket, and to have some fun. There is a subtle difference between gentle digging and provocation, and the Barmy Army know where to draw the line. This has been the key to the successful relationship with the Indian crowd.

The security in the stands was undoubtedly the most relaxed in Bangalore of all the venues. Indeed, the stand where we watched the game had no stewards whatsoever. They weren't required.

The gentle digging, chanting and banter was at its most sophisticated here. For instance, on the evening before the Test began, famous Barmy Army character Mark Robson spotted a small tent in a shop window, adorned with pictures from the cartoon show 'The Flinstones'. Remembering that Andy Flintoff's nickname Freddie is a reference to one of the Flinstone characters, he suggested a group of us put some money towards buying the tent, and taking it into the ground.

After purchasing the tent, and after a lengthy, complicated, process of construction, the tent was finally put together, and proudly held up whenever Flintoff came on to bowl or took a wicket. When Sehwag came in, a witty response came from an Indian with a banner exclaiming: "Sehwag will beat your Freddy Flinstone back into the Stone Age."

It was a wonderful example of supporters playing off each other, creating their very own script in the stands to complement events on the pitch. Sadly, such fun isn't always possible at English grounds.

In the 1997 Test against Australia at Headingley, two men dressed up as a cow, with one standing up providing the front legs, and the one at the back crawling on all fours to provide the hind legs. After moving around the edge of the outfield for a while, a group of stewards decided that they'd had enough fun, and the two men were sent flying into the advertising hoardings, badly injuring themselves in the process. While no England fan has tried this kind of trick in India, we have certainly appreciated the comparatively relaxed nature of the ground stewards here.

I suspect that certain Test venues in England would have ensured that the Flinstones tent was quickly dismantled. The Indians' love of banners was clearer at Bangalore than anywhere else. As well as taking in banners that had already been written, several fans would take blank sheets of paper, so they were ready to respond to events on the pitch as they happened. Friendly relations even continued when England persisted with the controversial leg side line to Tendulkar.

You could sense the intense frustration of the Indian fans at this, many of whom had come on the third day just to see him bat, but there was little sign of them expressing this in an unpleasant manner. Such restraint is admirable when one considers just how much Tendulkar is revered, and how doggedly England stuck to their plan. It was like seeing a concert hall pianist deprived of half the keyboard.

The great majority of English fans, however, myself included, felt that England's tactics were justified. Sport is a different kind of theatre to musical performance, and ultimately the result matters more than the aesthetics. For too many years, England have shown little imagination when confronted with a great batsmen.

As an England fan, it is refreshing to see a plan being thought through about how to deal with a player of Tendulkar's talent. Perhaps the leg-side line was used slightly too often, but as a principle, the idea of aiming to frustrate a batsman of Tendulkar's ability is perfectly acceptable. It is simply part of the chess-like nature of a compelling Test match, where the bowlers adopt a certain tactic and then see how the batsman can react to it.

When we finally dismissed the Little Master, England fans began a chant of "Only rain can save the Indians now," a song produced whenever we are in a strong position. Little did we know how true it was to be on this occasion.

We were all understandably frustrated by the poor weather, but the mood amongst England fans has remained upbeat. We have been so satisfied with the progress made by our side on this trip, that we have remained cheerful to the end.

A group of us now head to Goa, to celebrate Christmas with a few beers and plenty of beach cricket - certainly a great contrast to how we normally celebrate at this time of year. Then I will be continuing my research into the grassroots of Indian cricket. Keep your e-mails coming!

GE Features

Backpacker's Diary archive

Mail Jonathan Dyson

Illustration: Bijoy Venugopal