Bucket-list sporting events

Travel should be about more than just places – it should be about events and experiences, too. I know of two couples – one from Joburg and one from Zimbabwe – who are spending not inconsiderable sums of money to travel to Cape Town for the February 7 “Match in Africa” between Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal. I wouldn’t waste my money on that or on snacking on strawberries and cream at Wimbledon either. Just not a tennis fan. And don’t expect me to fly all the way to Augusta, Georgia, to take in the US Open Golf tournament. Watching paint dry would be marginally more entertaining…

But there are a few sporting venues where I would like to go, just for the experience, even if I am not a particular supporter of that team. Top of that list – and I run the risk, on the eve of the semi-final tomorrow, of annoying Bok fans – has to be the Millennium Stadium in Cardiff to watch Wales playing anyone else in rugby. There are no finer sporting codes’ singers on the planet than the Welsh and to feel that massive stadium awash with those stirring tones will bring up the gooseflesh even in the most cynical of sports tourists.

Of course, my wife – whose father is Welsh and played scrumhalf for Swansea University (and who can sing, too) – would have to accompany me. It would be even better if my daughter, who is no rugby fan but now lives and works in a Welsh village, could join us. Any visit to Cardiff could be accompanied by a leisurely swan around Wales itself – a most underappreciated tourist destination.

And, even though, being Irish, I am no fan of the English, I would like to sit at least once at Lord’s in London and watch a cricket Test. I would have a look at the “toffs” in their expensive hats and ties, and probably go over to sit with the raucous, but often hilarious encampment of the “Barmy Army” of English fans.

More my style… Interestingly, I think perhaps the finest description of the atmosphere of cricket came from Irishman James Joyce in his novel, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. I’ve never forgotten it.

“In the soft grey silence he could hear the bump of the balls: and from here and from there through the quiet air the sound of the cricket bats: pick, pack, pock, puck: like drops of water in a fountain falling softly in the brimming bowl.”

General view of Welsh players on the ground as they perform the national anthem before the quarter-final Rugby World Cup match between Wales and Australia at the Millennium stadium in Cardiff 23 October 1999. Australia defeated Wales 24-9 and qualified for the semi-final.
AFP PHOTO (Photo by WILLIAM WEST / AFP)

Though I am a petrolhead and love vehicles, there are not many motorsport venues I would want to visit. An exception would be Monte Carlo, for the Monaco Formula One Grand Prix. The sport has turned into little more than a clinical procession these days, but the beauty of the Monaco track, which doubles as ordinary street roads at all other times, is breathtaking … never mind the backdrop of the beautiful Mediterranean, the beautiful people and their beautiful yachts.

An added bonus that – watching that wildlife in their natural habitats. Of course, a visit to Monaco would only be fleeting because there would be the rest of the French Riviera – with its own charms – to wallow in. Although I have spent very little time on two wheels as a motorcyclist, I am intrigued about the Isle of Man Tourist Trophy races. A friend of mine, Roger, dragged his wife there a couple of years ago and they suffered in a drafty B and B all for his love of the sport.

Talking of which, I do want to watch a night stage of a regional car rally in Wales – in the dead of winter. Why? Firstly, the regional competitions still feature Subarus, which sound like nothing else when blasting through the still of the night. (They are no longer involved in the Word Rally Championship, sadly, but are still hugely popular with privateer racers.) It would have to be cold and at night to remind me that this form of motor racing is visceral and, if nothing else, the suffering reminds you you are alive.

Travel doesn’t have to be logical. It has to be about following the road less travelled and it has to stir the emotions…

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