You had better believe it folks....2018 has finally arrived on the Mobile Marshies's blog site, exactly seven months behind real time. I told you I would get there eventually. It is probably just as well that we find ourselves stuck in Adelaide now until New Year. I might just catch up!
As the old expression goes, 'I would love a quid' for every time Liz and I have sat in front of a TV screen (when we had a house and later on the road) watching the cricket coming to us from the Bellerive Oval in Hobart and saying to each other, "We must do that sometime. What a view sitting there watching a match and looking out over the Derwent."
Well, now we were. And guess what? There was no view over the water, not from the stand in which our seats were located at any rate. In fact we have now discovered that only those either on the hill or in the Members would have any hope of gazing out over the estuary (and even then we remain a tad unsure).
As this shot, courtesy of 'crickettas', clearly shows, the Bellerive Oval (or Blundstone Arena as it is now known, thanks to sponsorship) does indeed lie right next to the River Derwent.
And, as you would expect, the TV broadcast directors are always quick to utilise the camera men perched in their cherry picker eyries high above the venue (as some of them are) to bring us viewers idyllic scenes across the water when there is a lull in the match.
But as we discovered, this is a classic case of 'what you see is not what you get', as I'll show you shortly.
Our preference was always to take our seats at a Bellerive Test Match which is for us, the only 'real cricket'. This was not to be. The 2017-18 Test schedule did not include Tassie. We had to settle for what we could get at the time we were in town. A 20/20 Big Bash match was all that was on offer, so that had to do.
Quite coincidentally, the team opposing the local 'Hurricanes' was that from South Australia. This could be interesting, we thought. We planned to either barrack very quietly or become unpopular with our immediate neighbours. This, we decided would depend on two things.....the state of the match and the state of those who were sitting near us!
With our pre-purchased tickets in hand we wandered past those congregating at what is called 'the main entrance' as the clock above the gate was ticking over towards 1730 hours. We had arrived in plenty of time to quietly find our seats, soak up a bit of the atmosphere and have a pre-match munch.
We knew from a previous recce of the area (as much to determine where we could park as anything) that this was not our gate.
So we marched on south along Derwent Street, past the tiny Members Entrance.
In normal circumstances, as SACA members and exercising our reciprocal rights, this is where we would have gone in, but whilst we are travelling we take out what is known as an 'absentee membership'. This allows us to retain continuity of membership for the comparative pittance of $80 which is a darn site better than the $350 a year's subs would normally set us back....each!
And for this match we were more than happy to join the plebs, which we soon did as we mounted the staircase at this much grander entrance point (why this is not called the main entrance is beyond us)
and stood patiently in the waiting queue. Lizzie had deliberately worn her bluest shirt (the Adelaide team colour) but this evoked no comment from those around us. They either did not realize its significance, or decided to take polite pity on this couple who were obviously lost.
From the stairway up which we had climbed, views over the water
and distant Mount Wellington were ours for the taking, but that did not last. Once inside the stands the structure itself obliterated any chance of even 'water glimpses' (as the real estate agents like to say and which usually means you would have to stand on your roof),
unless, that is, we were prepared to look out over the infrastructure at the very end of the upper deck. Ah, well, we thought, we can't have everything. Isn't it interesting how situations of 'no choice' make philosophers of us all!.
and made our way past the permanent
and makeshift catering concessions
until we came to the sign we were looking for, Bay 10, where our seats for the evening awaited our arrival.
So, at last, after all the dreaming, here we were, overlooking what was for us an almost unbelievably tiny cricket ground where the groundsman responsible for mowing the grass beyond the pitch area had either been very drunk or very clever! Given the astonishing regularity of the wave pattern, we came down on the side of 'clever'.
When I say 'tiny', I do so with absolutely no disrespect for our Tasmania cousins (all of whom we had to date found to be unfailingly welcoming and helpful) nor their major cricket and football venue. It is a charming oval, but has a spectator capacity of only 19,200.
Used as we now are to the revamped Adelaide Oval, with its spectator capacity of over 55,000, and despite the fact that we knew Bellerive was much, much smaller, this still came as something of a shock.
Settled into our seats it was now time for tea. Off I toddled to see what was on offer at the catering stalls. And here let the compliments flow. Small it might be, but let me tell you Bellerive punches way above its weight when it comes to feeding the assembled hoard at a major sporting venue.
A good variety of food, well presented, and at what we found to be prices we would kill for at home, came as a really pleasant surprise. Well done, Bellerive.....one of the few places in Tassie where catering claws are not clutching for an excessive tourist dollar, but of course, this was a venue for the locals. We were more than happy to have joined them for supper!
So fed and watered more than adequately we settled back for the pre-match hoopla, where the local mascots in the shape of overdressed pirates entertained gaggles of delighted kids
whilst the crowd trickled in to assume their seats in the bleaches
and more comfortably in the small members' stand.
Once the match was under way, 'The Hill' under the outer scoreboard, traditionally a well populated spot, lived up to its reputation, but I am sure the organisers would have been disappointed by the fact that the total crowd for the night was a mere 12,000. We did wonder how many who may have otherwise attended were off elsewhere making the most of their Xmas holiday break.
As soon as the typical Big Bash nonsense which precedes each of these matches was over the teams took to the oval and it was game on at this delightful cricket ground.
I would have to say that Big Bash is not our thing normally. The noise and the nonsense is a bit much, and whilst it is good fun watching big blokes belt balls beyond boundaries, as I have mentioned earlier we are Test fans. There is nothing snobbish about this. We just love the cut and thrust of a good test match, even if it astonishes non-devotees that a game which may end with no winner after five days can be called enthralling! I do see their point.
But tonight it was all over inside three hours. And what of our plans for barracking......we were very quiet....despite the fact that the Adelaide Strikers were the hot pre-match favourites, we fell short in the run chase.
In fact it was this match which set the previously under-performing Tassie Hurricanes on a winning streak, one which culminated in them appearing in the February Big Bash grand final match against......you guessed it, The Strikers.
That one we won!
Despite not being able to claim bragging rights on 4 January 2018 at Bellerive, we thoroughly enjoyed our evening out and ticked off yet another bucket list item, one which had been sitting there for more than fifteen years.
Well, folks, that brings us to the end of our Hobart adventures. On the morrow we resume our jaunt around the Apple Isle, this time off east to Dunalley in company with our Margate hosts for a couple of nights at another spot on our list of Tasmanian Pub stays.
