Rose Bowl Razzmatazz - Twenty20 Finals Day by Jane Cable

In the Pink - Happy Fans

I’ve heard it said quite a lot in recent months: “Twenty20’s about razzmatazz.” Rod Bransgrove’s said it; Stuart Robertson’s said it, and I respect their opinions greatly – but somehow I’ve never entirely bought into the Twenty20 dream.

One day changed all that – and the one day was last Saturday, when The Rose Bowl hosted the Twenty20 Finals. I have always loved the ground, but this was the moment it really came into its own and showed a watching world just how good cricket in England can be.

Of course, the standard of cricket on show certainly helped. The final in particular, was one of the most skilful games of cricket I have ever seen. Having nailed my colours firmly to the Middlesex mast, I was ecstatic to see Shaun Udal and his new teammates triumph. I was also in the corner of the ground that gave Shaggy a rousing welcome when he came to field on the boundary in the semi final, something which gave me a great deal of pleasure to be part of. If only he’d been in a Hampshire shirt helping to lift the trophy, then my day would have been complete.

Forgive me for this being a personal view rather than a professional one, but I came to The Rose Bowl as an ordinary punter, to experience the Finals Day with friends. I had a few drinks, I screamed myself hoarse during the mascot dance off, and sang along with the crowd karaoke (and every other time a belt of music resounded around the ground). I even forgot to be cynical when two marines carried out the trophy, and the finalists arrived on the pitch amidst a shower of fireworks.

Between games I showed off The Rose Bowl to my friend, a visitor from Essex. To see her look of envy when I took her into the Atrium; to be able to sit on the grass just outside, and watch players, npower girls and the world in general wander past, were moments of contentment and great personal pride. It’s so easy to take for granted the sweeping white roofs set against their backdrop of trees when you see them several times a week; equally easy to forget that this is one ground without a bad seat in the house, a place where the amphitheatre draws you into the action.

I must admit I had my reservations about twenty thousand people in The Rose Bowl; I envisaged a day of fighting my way through crowds and queuing for everything. I don’t know, maybe I was just lucky, the ground seemed to cope really well with the numbers. No, portaloos aren’t nice by the end of the day, but at least there were plenty of them. And the old complaints about getting to and from The Rose Bowl seem conspicuous by their absence.

In a year when many of us feel a little overawed by the circus Twenty20 cricket around the world has become, Finals Day at The Rose Bowl was nothing short of a wake up call. First and foremost, this was a wonderful day of cricket, with the skills being exhibited on the pitch second to none. But the razzmatazz surrounding it worked too; mascots, competitions, freebies, music – all formed a backdrop to the cricket without overshadowing it; fitting together seamlessly to provide one of the best days of entertainment I have ever experienced.

Of course, nothing is perfect. But it would have been if those wonderfully lithe dancing girls in the tiny white shorts had had a few male colleagues…