On a weekend dominated by the alleged carnal dubiousness of a Mr Mountbatten Windsor, in a year plagued by raging inflation, hiked mortgage rates, pips-squeaking tax rises, intractable war in Europe and a fragile Gaza ceasefire, where better to find light relief than at Twickenham?
Your restaurant bill in town might give your bank manager indigestion. You could get your Rolex ripped off your wrist or your mobile phone nicked out of your hand in Piccadilly Circus, right next to Eros.
But whatever else London might be these days, it remains the premier sporting city in the world.
It boasts Wembley, Lord’s, Wimbledon, Royal Ascot at its fringe, the 2012 Olympic Stadium (never suitable for football, mind), 65 Parkruns, and Twickenham – sorry the Allianz Stadium, a renaming that ambushed more than a century of tradition for £100million over a decade. Decamping England rugby’s ‘HQ’ to Birmingham, as was once mooted, is no longer on. The oval-ball game continues to breathe behind the Rowland Hill Memorial Gates.
London’s nearest challenger as the world’s sporting capital, we should acknowledge in respect of our southern hemisphere visitors, especially as we whacked them, is Melbourne.
It hosts the Australian Open tennis, the Australian Grand Prix (within walking distance of St Kilda Beach, which is somewhere to die for), the Melbourne Cup that captivates a nation for a dizzying day, and then there is the Boxing Day Test. As well as the provincial obsession known as Aussie Rules, which dominates the back pages over there.
Despite its numerous social issues, London remains the greatest sporting city in the world – and Twickenham (above), or the Allianz Stadium as it has been renamed, is the pinnacle
The oval-ball game continues to breathe behind Twickenham’s Rowland Hill Memorial Gates
From Lord’s (above) to Wembley, London boasts some of the very best sports venues around
But, sorry Wallabies, London can pull its shoulders back and hold its head highest, surely?
So off to Twickenham we went, though all the while Sir Clive Woodward’s words from the other day rang in one’s ears. He wrote in these pages that the ‘Twickenham matchday experience is just awful’.
His prime concern was patrons going to the bar or the loos in the middle of the match, his view of the pitch and that of the paying customer, spending up to £260-plus for the New Zealand match this autumn, obscured by the bobbing up and down involved in making way for the imbibers. The ‘biggest pub in England’ he once called Twickenham.
This was my experience: the train journey from west London – close to the start of the Boat Race, to tick off another sporting event staged in London – was smooth and calm. Nobody was remotely drunk, the noise volume was low, but it was just after noon, three hours before kick-off. A couple of guys sipped Asahi beers out of silver cans.
Towards the stadium from Twickenham station – 15 minutes or so. No problems at the Roast Hog stalls on the road in.
The clock nudged towards the 3.10pm KO. The Australian national anthem played and then God Save the King. ‘And his family,’ added a pal on my left. Talking of booze, it is no longer served in the media centre. That had changed from the last time I was here.
But there is plenty of the stuff elsewhere, all over the stadium, on this concourse and that. And little wonder. What better money-spinner could there be for the RFU? Prices vary from bar to bar, but you do not get much change from £8 for a Guinness whichever outlet you choose. ‘Card only’ signs pervade.
At half-time, I went to assess the situation. There were more than 100 people queuing at the 4.8 Bar. The loos were bursting. As the second half began, there were dozens of people waiting for a drink, just as Sir Clive had noted.
England triumphed 25-7 over Australia in the Autumn Nations Series on Saturday afternoon
The pre-match was smooth and calm – supporters pictured enjoying a drink before kick-off
Royal Ascot (above) is more drink-sozzled than Twickenham – as are northern cricket grounds
A smarter move was to go down to the Lineout Bar. ‘More tills, more taps’, the throng was promised on signage sending them in that direction. That seemed faster moving. Your correspondent did not give into temptation (for once).
It should be added that many people love the Twickenham experience, even if yesterday the place felt a little subdued, strangely as England are on a roll. Twickenham can be like that.
One solution to the drink problem, if it is such, is that if you buy a drink mid-game you are not allowed back to your seat all half, perhaps other than for a break in play, just as you can’t breeze to your seat mid-over during a cricket match or until a change of ends at Wimbledon.
However, the northern cricket grounds, and Edgbaston, are far worse for ‘fans’ pickled in lager during a Test. Lord’s is not afflicted in this way. Nor is Wimbledon – still the most Middle-England of all major sporting events.
Royal Ascot is more drink-sozzled than Twickenham. Try the train back from there in the evening. Her heels off, him staggering. A brawl if you want one.
Now, it’s time for the South Western line home from Twickenham, and experience says that’s not the best bit of the day. The queue usually takes longer than ordering a Guinness.
