da fazobetai： It is easy for an English cricketer, forlornly fielding atthird man and watching the runs flow during an overseas tour,to let weary shoulders sag, but this is precisely what he mustnot do
Samanth Subramanian15-Nov-2001It is easy for an English cricketer, forlornly fielding atthird man and watching the runs flow during an overseas tour,to let weary shoulders sag, but this is precisely what he mustnot do. He must think of England, of the hopes of Old Blightyresting on those very shoulders; how he does this is left topersonal choice. He could think of scones at tea; he could huma few bars of “Rule Britannia” under his breath; he couldthink fondly, perhaps for the only time in his life, of theRoyal family.Or he could look behind him into the stands, where sprawlvarious middle-aged men and women, pink with sun, sportinglittle torso-wear but a draped Union Jack and zinc oxide, alenever far from their hands, hollering motley songsenergetically.Sri Lanka may have the indefatigable Percy and Lionel, flagwavers from the very top drawer, but only England can boast ofan entire battalion of cheerleaders who make it their businessto follow the cricket team abroad, offering vocal supportwhere usually none exists, and standing by the players throughtriumphs and disasters, the latter perhaps more numerous.The Barmy Army, as they have come to be christened, may now bea formidable regiment, but it was initially just a socialgathering of backpackers who soldiered independently fromcountry to country. Only during the 1994-95 Ashes series inAustralia did these battle-scarred veterans agglomerate into acohesive unit, capable of striking fear into any homesupporter with animal war cries, funny costumes, and vigorouswaving of pitchers frothing with lager.Drunken-football-hooligan rampages, however, are never on theArmy’s agenda, no matter how much the beer may flow likewater. “It’s not just about beer,” said Paul Burnham, one ofthe founding members, to the BBC. “Our idea is to bringeveryone together and try to be ambassadors for the country.We behave ourselves but like a good sing song.”Their web-site, for what organisation can survive todaywithout a cyber-home and annoying pop-ups, assures us as much.Barmy-Army.com, besides announcing their mission statement to”make watching cricket more fun and much more popular,” isalso an effective forum where recruits contact each other,coordinate group trips, or promise to meet before the start ofthe first Test at the Gabba pub or the Eden Gardens chaistall.Contingents vary in strength. The No-Booze tour of Pakistansaw only 50 Army members, no doubt only top brass, witness anexciting series win in the subcontinent. Those who missed out,however, got their chance in Sri Lanka, where hundreds offoot-soldiers watched with disbelieving circumspection asEngland notched up yet another victory.Hoping for a hat-trick in India might be asking for too much,yet the Army had less trouble with conscription than the ECB.Although they theorise, half in jest, that they might be inmore danger than the players, walking around as they do incapes made out of the British flag, high-ranking officials inthe Army believe that, by heeding Foreign Office advice andrelying on the “Safety in numbers” maxim, they shall come tono harm.”People already have their tickets and, as far as anybody cansay they will be there, we will be in India for the Testseries,” said Burnham. “I’m hoping that Indians fans will showtheir solidarity and join us too.”Burnham should have no worries about that. In a country whereone hundred thousand fans throng matches, sleep nights outsidethe ticket office to get even half-decent seats, initiate andmaintain stadium-wide Mexican waves to the point of monotony,and generate astounding levels of decibels, the Barmy Army’srendition of “Nasser, Nasser Hussain” to the tune of “Rupertthe Bear” should fit right in.