Ian and Judiet

Exclusively smuggled out of the South African team camp in the small hours of the Caribbean morning extracts from national captain Graeme Smith’s tour diary…

Tuesday, 27 February: Last day in South Africa, and butterflies are mounting — even affected my round today at our farewell golf day (shot 107, which isn’t bad, but just not comfortable with my short game). And buzzing from our presidential send-off yesterday — President Mbeki had flown into South Africa specifically to bid us farewell, which was a lovely touch for a very busy man. Not much sleep ahead tonight, that’s for sure…

Wednesday, 28 February: We’re off! Rounded the guys up at the airport, all very excited. Slightly awkward moment though, when Boeta arrived in his blazer and with all his kit. Said he was just there in case anyone got injured, and that he had Johan in their bakkie outside in case we needed another extra. He cut a very forlorn figure as we left, sitting on his coffin with a tear running down his cheek. Who knows, maybe he’ll get a chance. Had a quick read of the note the President gave me to open on the plane: ‘Watch out for Jonah Lomu’. Not entirely sure he’s quite got a handle on cricket, to be honest.

Thursday, 1 March: Finally arrived in Trinidad after one very, very long flight. Sometimes I wonder why I stay on as captain… First Andrew caused a commotion, shouting and cheering uncontrollably; turns out he was watching the new Rocky, and screaming encouragement to Sylvester Stallone, to the dismay of the people sitting around him. Then Herschelle accidentally got locked in one of the toilets with two air hostesses, and Justin’s video camera. Jonty woke everyone up at some ridiculous hour (don’t ask me when — body clock is nowhere) to try and rustle up some partners for shuttle runs up and down the aisle (the man is impossible). And on top of that, I had to walk all the way back to economy from first class to check on Mickey from time to time. Thank God we’re finally here.

Friday, 2 March: Settled in to training at our hotel, which has a great buffet in the dining room. Forgot to mention that we saw the Zimbabwean team in transit yesterday at the airport — thought they all had two coffins, but turned out one was for cricket gear, and the other was a Zimbabwean wallet. They’d set up a little curio stand in the arrivals lounge to raise some extra funds for the tournament — picked up a lovely carved ivory hippo for my new house. Think I might call it Minki.

Saturday, 3 March: Looked good in the nets today, with bat and ball. Cover drive going more to mid-on than mid-wicket, and my new mystery ball is taking shape nicely. Thinking of a sexy, catchy name for it, along the lines of ‘flipper’ or ‘zooter’; Jacques suggested “slow full toss”, Mark went with “steak and kidney”, and Ashwell suggested “air miles”. Bunch of comedians, this lot.

Sunday, 4 March: Everyone’s been calling Herschelle ‘MD’ after the President said he wanted Hersch to become Minister of Defence when he stopped playing cricket. Hersch suggested ‘MJ’ at breakfast, “as in Mary Jane”; Justin, Roger and Andre all started giggling. Inside joke, I guess.

Monday, 5 March: First game, and a bit of a shocker. All out for 192, with only Andrew saving us at the death, thank goodness, and then Charl got some late wickets to make sure we beat the Irish, who were actually rather good. Their star player is a guy called Andre Botha, who sounded suspiciously South African, to be honest, but apparently Botha is a popular name in the villages of southern Cork, and Gaelic is almost identical to Afrikaans. Herchelle is a mine of useful information — guess that Bishops education really does pay off in the end.

Tuesday, 6 March: Back in the nets after the Ireland game, just a week to go before the tournament proper gets underway. Highlight of the day was a really sweet letter from a guy called Dwayne Leverock, who plays cricket in Bermuda (near Ghana, I think). He said that he’s always thought he couldn’t play cricket, but that seeing me on the field and watching me play had given him inspiration to get out and play the game, and that I’d proved it was possible for someone like him to be a cricketer. Had a lump in my throat reading it — it’s moments like that that remind me why being captain means so much.

Wednesday, 7 March: What a start to the week — had to evacuate our hotel when a fire broke out! Justin, André, Herschelle and Roger were catching up with a mate of theirs from the last tour, and André accidentally dropped a match on the floor, and next thing the place was up in flames! All very dramatic. And to cap a rather odd day, I saw an absolute dead ringer for Boeta in the crowd outside the hotel. Probably just one of the other guests’ kids, but weird nonetheless.

Thursday, 8 March: Didn’t sleep well last night — heard some strange sounds outside the window, and am sure someone was running away when I opened the curtain. Went down to reception to speak to security, and bumped into Herschelle, Justin, André and Roger, who also couldn’t sleep, and looked pretty red-eyed and tired. They’d all ordered pizzas, so I joined in — who doesn’t get the munchies at four in the morning?

Friday, 9 March: Lost to Pakistan, which was disappointing, particularly after we’d beaten them so convincingly at home. Pitch was dreadful, though, even worse than Newlands last time out. Still, did get Younis Khan with an unplayable straight delivery, absolutely plumb — and as long as the other bowlers back me up, our attack will be pretty formidable. It’s all about flight, as I keep telling Robbie. Charl was convinced he saw Boeta in the crowd. Weird.

Saturday, 10 March: Had breakfast with the Irish and Canadian teams, who’re staying in our hotel with us. The Irish accent is a lot different in real life to in the movies on television — that André Botha guy still sounds just like he could be from Bloemfomtein, and a lot of the guys from Derry and Galway could almost be Australian. Nice bunch, though, as are the Canadians — met their shortstop, their relief pitcher, and a big oke who smiled, and told me to watch out for third base if I ever ran into him. No offence, mate, but I’m just not that kind of guy…

Sunday, 11 March: We’re going to see a lot of airports if we go all the way at the World Cup… Flew to Jamaica today, for tomorrow’s opening ceremony. It seemed the organisers had laid on a traditional African dance troupe to welcome us, which was a thoughtful touch; turned out it was actually the Zimbabwean team, doing some traditional dancing, and collecting change from passers-by at the airport. Slipped a ten rand note into one of the red caps lying in front of them — they are our next door neighbours, after all.

Monday, 12 March: What an opening ceremony! Dancing girls, singers, fireworks — unforgettable night. Jimmy Cliff played, Lucky Dube played, Shaggy played (although he didn’t sing ‘Wasn’t Me’, much to Herschelle’s disappointment). Percy made a speech, and I actually understood some of it. And met some of the other teams, including the Scottish team, who took to calling me ‘Inzi’, which is Glaswegian slang for ‘top bloke’, apparently. Told them I was very sorry about Mel Gibson having died, and that I didn’t like the English myself very much, which went down well. And Ashwell was right, the Irish and the Scots do sound remarkably similar — André Botha and Dewald Nel have almost identical accents.

Tuesday, 13 March: Flew to St. Kitts for our game on Friday against Holland, and had to deal with the ‘choker’ tag for the umpteenth time. Bloody media — how many times do you have to explain that choking is what you do when you’re trying to finish a whole roast chicken in under a minute to win a bet with your mate on the way home from the pub at three in the morning, and not a cricket term? And AB was in tears, homesick and missing his family — just want to get to Friday, play the first game, and get the tournament properly underway. Bring on the Dutch.

Wednesday, 21 March:
All a bit disconcerting at the moment, what with the Bob incident. Charl used to be a prison warder, and has all the CSI series on DVD at home. He reckons there’s something suspicious going on. Talking of which, someone got into my room and stole a couple of my practice shirts (doubly irritating as Mickey had only just finished ironing them). And am almost convinced I saw Boeta go past the lobby this morning — although I suppose it could have been somebody’s little boy going for a walk.

Thursday, 22 March:
Bang on my door just before five this morning — Jonty wanting to know if I felt like a jog. Threw an empty pizza box at him, and went back to bed. Honestly. Went for a walk on the beach with Mark and Jacques, who insisted on re-creating his bloody advert for the umpteenth time, running in slow motion across the sand. Think he’s a secret Baywatch fan, to be honest. And the slow motion thing does seem to come very naturally to him, to be honest. Australia beckon; couple of butterflies.

Friday, 23 March:
This World Cup is getting very weird. AB got back to his room after breakfast to find his stuffed toy dragon hanging by a rope from the wardrobe, with ‘Go home’ scrawled in blood on his duvet cover. Turned out it was tomato sauce, not blood (Heinz — I checked), and AB was okay, just a bit shaken. Security said a baby-faced guy in a South African shirt with a bad crew cut had left the hotel hurriedly. Almost sounds like… but no, can’t be.

Saturday, 24 March:
Lost to Australia — very bleak, especially as I thought we had them. AB batted really well, and I was going well, until I got cramp. My fault, I’m afraid — pre-match routine is supposed to be fries, Pepsi, nuggets, Pepsi, Kit-Kat, and I forgot the second Pepsi. Schoolboy error — would have kicked myself if I could have straightened my leg. And would have kicked Jacques too, lovely cover drives notwithstanding. Not the end of the world, but hugely annoying — and I know Ricky will be bombarding me with text messages for the next week.

Sunday, 25 March:
Hersch came bouncing into breakfast (and he’d been to bed, quite surprising after a match), beaming smile across his face. He’d just been online, and discovered that not only had he hit six sixes in one over, he’d also scored 36 runs. The Bishops maths department is probably still in therapy… Jonty wanted everyone to go bungee spear fishing — you jump off a cliff with a spear, hit the water, try and spear a fish, and bounce back up again — but I had a quiet day watching Bermuda and Bangladesh (India now out — wouldn’t want to be Greg Chappell any time soon). Got a ‘You suck’ text from an unknown number, which can only mean Kevin Pietersen, and a ‘That’s the status quo resumed’ from Ricky. Bizarre — I know Shaun likes their music, but what have they got to do with me?

Monday, 26 March:
Back in Guyana, which is humid, cramped, steamy, and slightly run-down — pretty much like Durban in summer. Guy at the back of economy looked faintly familiar, despite the big sunglasses and what looked suspiciously like a false beard. Mentioned it to Charl, who said he was probably an undercover policeman providing added security. He left the Georgetown airport quickly, with a BLF luggage tag on his suitcase — would have been Bloemfontein back home, but must be Barbados or Bermuda here.

Tuesday, 27 March:
Watched the start of Australia-West Indies, but then the power suddenly went out in the hotel. Cue darkness, a sudden scream, and when the generator kicked in, no AB! Jonty got back from hang-gliding in time to co-ordinate a search party, and we found AB an hour later, locked in a linen closet. Whoever jumped him had told him to go home or he’d never see Barney again. Kidnap is one thing, but threatening a young child’s stuffed dinosaur…really. Investigations continue, and there’s something I just can’t put my finger on. It’ll have to wait, though — Sri Lanka tomorrow, and we need a win. Remember: fries, Pepsi, nuggets, Pepsi, Kit-Kat…

Tuesday 10 April: We’re back! Bangladesh hiccup behind us, and we’re now really on track. AB did really well, and the semis are firmly in sight. Felt a bit sorry for the West Indies — being knocked out on home turf is always tough — and the 100-odd people at the ground were pretty muted (except for our supporters, who were great as always). Apparently loads of South Africans are flying out to cheer us on, and there could be as many as 500 people at the game if we make the semifinals. What an atmosphere — can’t wait.

Wednesday 11 April: This is turning into a very weird tournament. First Justin was convinced he’d seen Boeta Dippenaar in a taxi leaving the hotel; then AB’s room was trashed, with the letters ‘BD’ etched into the door with a screwdriver. And this time Barney was gone, with no note left at all. AB is distraught, and we had a team meeting, to try and determine who ‘BD’ could be. Finally I cracked it (I think): Billy Doctrove, the West Indian umpire, obviously upset about us knocking his team out of the tournament yesterday. Not sure what to do about it, to be honest.

Thursday 12 April: Had a rest day today. Jonty went hang-gliding again, and most of us went to the beach. We all tried to cheer AB up (still no news on Barney), and Mark and Makhaya acted out the potato crisps and soft drink ads again with him, which raised AB’s spirits a little. To be honest, I was a little affronted not to be included in the ads, especially after some pretty solid work in the Momentum commercial. Apparently, both the crisps and soft drink companies were “cautious of the perceived negative perception of dietary impact of our product should Graeme be included”, or words to that effect. Advertising jargon.

Friday 13 April: Enter Private Eye Smith… Envelope arrived at reception for AB, with a note to leave the country immediately — and with Barney’s thumb inside, hacked off AB’s favourite soft toy! Thankfully I intercepted it before it got to AB (he’s upset enough already). Went to the police, and wasn’t terribly impressed — don’t think they took it all that seriously, to be honest. But they assured me that as soon as they’d finished watching the cricket, they’d get going with the Woolmer investigation (they’d already bought package tickets, so I guess the delay is understandable), and once that’s done, they’ll look into Barney’s kidnap. In the mean time, my own investigations continue, with one Billy Doctrove the chief suspect…

Saturday 14 April: Dismal, dismal day. Didn’t sleep much last night, thinking about the case (can you analyse handwriting if it’s done with a screwdriver?), and then we go and lose to New Zealand. Worst was still to come, though — after the game, Percy Sonn arrived in the dressing room, and said he was taking over from Mickey, and managing our training to get into the semis. Nothing we could do about it, and so off we went with him; let’s just say Percy’s training methods are pretty novel, and involve an awful lot of brandy and coke. Got back to the hotel at half three; the rest of the team were still training when I left.

Sunday 15 April: Woke up feeling wretched. Thank heavens for breakfast buffets (well, more than usual). And then the phone started going… Apparently some supporting South Africans had spotted our training session with Percy, and misconstrued it entirely (think Kevin Pietersen may have been responsible, to be honest). Gerald was on the phone, plus a million reporters; all I wanted was a greasy breakfast and some industrial painkillers. Hope Percy knows what he’s doing; the whole team looks a little rough this morning. Still, if we beat England, I guess it’ll have been worth it.

Monday 16 April: Everyone, but everyone, is on our back. Read a quote from Boeta Dippenaar (the report said he was in the West Indies, which must be a mistake), saying all the guilty players should be sent home, and a new team selected immediately. Honestly… Tried to get through training, but Percy kept halting the net session to distribute jager bombs and tequilas. Herschelle thinks Percy is a coaching genius; I’m not convinced. Especially with England a must-win tomorrow…

Tuesday 17 April: We won! We killed them, absolutely murdered them. And best of all, Kevin Pietersen out for 3. Beautiful… Semifinal against Australia beckons. Two wins, and we’re World Champions. Trying not to get too over-excited, but it’s tough. Have to stay down to earth, and focus on the cricket — and complete my plans for a midnight raid on Billy Doctrove’s house in search of Barney. Who thought being an international cricket captain would have been quite so exciting?

Wednesday 18 April: Final week at last! Can’t believe how long this World Cup has gone on for, and everything that’s happened since it started. Roger, André, Herschelle and Justin setting fire to the hotel. AB’s voice breaking. The whole team reacting to the gumbo at dinner during the Sri Lanka game, and almost choking. The mystery of AB’s stuffed dinosaur being kidnapped by ‘BD’ (Billy Doctrove, we think). Herschelle getting six sixes in a row against Belgium. Months of cricket almost at an end; still one long and nerve-wracking week to go, though, until Australia. Have to admit I’m a little nervous.

Thursday 19 April: Slight injury worry after nets today. Have been working on a surprise bouncer with my arm ball, and dropped it fractionally short; hit my foot, and caused a surprising degree of pain. Makhaya collapsed laughing, which wasn’t terribly respectful — or terribly bright, considering I haven’t picked the team for the semifinal yet. Sat recovering while Andre bowled flat out for an hour, screaming abuse at the end of every follow-through. And that was just bowling to a stump…

Friday 20 April: Still no news on Barney, and AB has really gone into his shell. Tried to find Billy Doctrove in the phonebook, but no luck. Maybe it isn’t him responsible — but who else? Ashwell suggested Bangladesh, but that doesn’t really make sense. Mark suggested Barry Richards, because the short form of Richard is… and then collapsed laughing. Sometimes wicketkeepers can be very immature. Herschelle suggested the Scottish player Dougie Brown, as the initials match. Bishops education… Lots of discussion on the yacht we were on (took a break to spend some time out at sea), but still no luck. Did bump into a scuba diver as we docked, though, who emerged from the water behind the yacht. Baby-faced guy behind his mask, and his brief ‘hello’ sounded decidedly Afrikaans; something strangely familiar about him.

Saturday 21 April: Foot still a little sore, so left Mickey to run the net session (Percy hasn’t been seen for a couple of days, although housekeeping does have a growing collection of trousers, found each morning in the hotel bar). Did a bit of shopping to take my mind of things, and ended up with some awesome Caribbean curios (genuine stuff, not tourist rubbish): a giant conch shell (the West Indian vuvuzela, I reckon), a red, green and yellow knitted beret with fake dreadlocks (be great when I want to go shopping at Sandton City and avoid the paparazzi), and best of all, a Bob Marley Greatest Hits CD which — wait for it — he’d actually signed! Guy in a side street sold it to me; apparently, Bob signed the genuine stuff ‘Marlee’ for clandestine authenticity. Cost me a bit, but pretty damn cool. Emancipate yourself from the off-side…

Sunday 22 April: Dropped in at the police station just before practice, to pass on another piece of evidence, intercepted at reception — another letter to AB, with ‘Wonder if Barney are flammable? Go home now!’ scrawled on (and this is key) a piece of paper from the Bloemfontein Holiday Inn! Must mean the player or umpire responsible toured South Africa, and was involved with a game in Bloem! Another muted response from the sergeant on duty, who said he knew what was flammable, and wandered off clutching a bank bag. Takes a while to pick up the local lingo.

Monday 23 April: St. Lucia. Beautiful island, but not really in the mood for sightseeing. Great news for AB though — Barney’s back! Police raided a hotel room early this morning, where there were reports of a woman being attacked; all they found was a stereo system, a couple of Patricia Lewis CDs, black and white photos of the team pinned to the wall — and Barney, minus one ear (I’ll get Mickey to sew it back on). AB burst into tears, and phoned home immediately; great relief throughout the team. But who was the mystery ‘BD’? Billy Doctrove? A rival player? A disaffected fan? I guess we’ll never know.

Tuesday 24 April: There’s a nervous edge to the team at the moment, very much the quiet before the storm. Andrew has been glued to his iPod, watching footage of The Big Show versus The Undertaker he downloaded this morning. Jacques and Mark argued whether to play five-day or one-day games on Brian Lara Cricket. Jonty did a couple of lacklustre cartwheels down the corridor, and then slumped down behind a copy of Adrenaline Junkie magazine. Then we watched the Sri Lanka game together; quite a performance. Sri Lanka in the final, if we get there. Won’t be much sleep tonight.

Tags: Cricket, Jokes, World Cup

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