Better than 20/20

Sometimes you meet a person, and you mesh instantly.  It was like that with a man named Ormand Panton I met in Grand Cayman many years ago. (I’ll tell you about him another day). It was like that with Raymond Lee-Own, one time cycle racer for Guyana, when we met in Toronto; we’ve been solid friends ever since. It was like that with radio guru Vic Fernandes in Barbados; we were like brothers from day one.

Today, with cricket in mind, the instant bond was also the case between me and Terry Ferreira whom I met in Canada many moons ago.  Let me tell you how far Terry and I go back; we were friends even before Tradewinds became popular, and that’s 42 years. As is the case with most Guyanese I know now, I didn’t know Terry here. We met in Toronto – both migrants, he from New Amsterdam, and I from West Dem – and just hit it off.

We still do. Mind you, it’s not two peas in a pod. We disagree about things, sometimes concretely.  Take cricket for instance. I’m a big sports fan, as is Terry, who is also an accomplished athlete – soccer, cricket, tennis, cycle racing, skiing – so we’re always gaffing back and forth about sports. Most of the time, with one exception, it’s harmonious; the exception is 20/20 cricket – major problems there. In a nutshell, Ferreira despises the game; says it’s not cricket, we should name it something else; says it’s a bunch of voopers; rants that it’s all about money.  I say that compared to every other modern sport, Test cricket is often boring; Terry almost has a stroke; he says it’s the only game in town.

I should ask my psychologist friend to weigh in on this one, but the interesting thing is that Ferreira and Martins can have civilized chats, sometimes differing agreeably, on every other topic under the sun, but the 20/20 subject is like a trip wire for one of those roadside bombs in Iraq; Ferreira explodes.  He goes from friendly to furious. He calls everybody connected with the game idiots, and his scorn for anyone who follows it, me included, is unwavering.

Recently, for example, I email Terry that I’m going to Providence to watch the Trinis play Guyana in 20/20 and I mentioned that, with two matches each day, it would be over 7 hours of cricket, which can be a long time.  Serious mistake.  Ferreira is like Muhammad Ali; if you leave the slightest opening, he jabs. The jab arrives: “So, now you’re unwilling to take in seven hours of the best, most exciting vooping there is, eh? Then you certainly wouldn’t be able to handle watching real cricket.”

I should have let it slide, but I can jab too, so I said, “Seven hours of 20/20 is a long day, but it goes without saying banna, that there is no way I would go to Providence to watch any five-day Test match; even if I was singing Blade O’ Grass every day; even if Halle Berry was sitting next to me; even, in fact, if somebody paid me to go”.

Ferreira leans on my remark about 7 hours being a long cricket day: “That’s news to me. I got the impression you just had to say 20/20 and the stands would overflow. Maybe what we need is 5/5, and after that you could take in a movie.”

Of course now, we’re both in the ring, so I try a rope-a-dope. “Banna, you’re a guy with vision…take your 5/5 idea, for instance, with the movie afterward; that would be a winner. Let me know if you ever get that going.”

Ferreira comes to the ropes and throws a right: “The movie can’t be more than 15 minutes long though, lest you risk putting people to sleep.”

I thought of jabbing back that the cricket where people are actually seen sleeping is the Test version, but I didn’t – after all we’re friends. However, let me ask you: okay, it was born in sarcasm, but don’t you think that maybe Ferreira has something here? These days, with everybody short of time, that 5/5 format could be a winner. The cricket would be over in an hour, you could stretch your legs, grab a roti while they set up the movie screen, come back for the film, with popcorn and so on, and in 3 hours tops, you’re out of there, having enjoyed the big sixes and the movie action in one tight package. Packaging is big these days, you know.

Also it would be night time, so no sunburn; no sun in your eyes; no problems parking at Providence; no driving from venue to venue. And think of the promos:   “Chanders and Ronnie with Angelina Jolie.” Or, “Come for Foo and Godfather Two.”

Once it catches on, being a short game, it would be cheap to put on 5/5 during the day. You could use the same balls for 3-4 matches, you could pay the players and the umpires less, and if rain falls, you could wait 2 hours and still have time to play a complete game – no more Duckworth-Lewis nonsense.  Revenue-wise as well, it could be a bonanza:  the GCB could put on a 5/5 on Saturday morning in town, another one after lunch, and another one early  in the evening – that should solve their cash flow problems. Fellows coming home late from work, could slip over to Providence, take in a 5/5, have a few beers with the boys, and one hour later head home. Think of the marital rows that would be avoided: “How you come home so late?”  “I was checking out the 5/5 at Providence.”  “Oh, okay.”

Furthermore, we could get retired cricket stars like Viv, Lara, Hooper, Sobers, Holding, Ambrose, etc., to step up; after all, 5/5 wouldn’t even leave them breathing hard, and think of the fans who would come out for these legends.

You could even have a Night Owl 5/5, starting at midnight, for people who work really late or for those who have trouble sleeping. “Are you sleepless and tense? Come Providence”.  The promotion possibilities are endless. “It’s just 30 balls; come y’all.”  An information number 222-5555; everybody older than 55, free Pepsi;  the marketing people would be wetting themselves.

I’m getting carried away – I should exercise some restraint – but the more I think about it, the more I think Ferreira has something here.  I’m going to run this by the Providence Manager Tony Xavier. This thing could be big.  Be clear however that if 5/5 does come to pass, I am going to insist that they announce before each game that the idea originated with Terry Ferreira.  Now mind you, I’m a bit concerned that Ferreira may jump off a bridge in New Jersey some place, but after all, the man is my friend, and I believe in giving credit where credit is due.

I keep saying that Guyanese people have vision, but you don’t believe me. So it go.