[The following is a response to this from a female cricket fan.]
Ah, Bourda! Unfortunately, unlike the men in the piece above, I went to Bourda strictly for the cricket - well, I went specially to see Garfield Sobers, but for me, he was cricket. I can't remember what was sold at the concession stands - I always took my lunch with me. I didn't get involved in the arguments (they almost always ended up with the Khanai - ites vs the Sobers - ites; and since I was one of the latter and he was not a Guyanese, we were always in the minority at Bourda). I simply watched the game and marvelled at the artistry of the master.
What I can relate to is standing in line (from the early dawn) waiting for the "powers that be" to open the stupid gates. You started out about 10th in line and by the time they decided to open the gates you found yourself almost backing around the next street corner. I remember once the pushing and shoving was so bad that a policeman on horseback (and his horse, of course) went tumbling into the trench at the south gate entrance. That horse was kicking mud onto everything and everyone in sight in an effort to get out of that trench - but do you think anyone moved? Hell, no! We went through that gate covered in mud, ran to claim our seats on the hard benches, then made efforts to clean ourselves up before the game started.
All part and parcel of cricket at Bourda!
