All sporty on the Western front

Steve Waugh: last match at the WACA? © Getty Images

Here's a warning for all Perth-based non-sports fans. Leave this place immediately. Take the bus, the train, or the car. Take anything. Just give up ambitions of quiet enjoyment, and go. This week is definitely one for sports tragics of the highest (or lowest, depending on your viewpoint) order. Not only have the Rugby World Cup boys taken up residence, but the proponents of the leather-on-willow game are also in town. For once, the Western Australian capital, often seen as suffering from the inherent difficulties of the tyranny of distance, is staking its claim as Australia's sports central.

It's no exaggeration to suggest that Perth has gone Rugby World Cup loco. Office buildings in the centre of town are bedecked with flags, advertisements, and even the occasional larger-than-life-size photograph of Johnny Wilkinson (not that there's anything wrong with that). Practically every bed is taken, practically every hotel is offering widescreen telecasts, practically everyone has a theory on who will win the tournament, why, and by what margin ... and practically everybody has a player-sighting story. "I picked up some of the Georgian guys yesterday," said my taxi-driver on the way from the airport. "I don't know their names, but they must have been players, they were huge - seriously seven axe-handles across."

It's also no exaggeration to suggest that with the impending try-line excitement, cricket has become a tad lost in the translation. The Australia-Zimbabwe Test series began today at the WACA. Not so you'd notice. "Is there cricket on?" asked the Fremantle bus-driver. "When does it start?" Apparently other Perthites were posing similar questions. By the time the respective national anthems had been sung and the coin tossed, only 5000 had made their way to the ground. By the time the sun had edged across the Inverarity, Prindiville and Lillee-Marsh Stands, the atmosphere bore a closer resemblance to a leisurely family picnic than the opening bout of an international sporting fixture.

Some punters were happy to express their theories as to possible reasons for the lack of cricket interest. "It's such an early start to the season," said Kathy from South Perth. "We're not used to coming here in October. Somehow it doesn't seem quite natural." Nathan, her husband, had additional ideas. "We're still in total football mode," he said. "We've just finished with the AFL and league grand finals, and now we're gearing up for the rugby. It's a sporting mindset that's geared to the calendar, and you can't force something like that to change."

For others, however, the opportunity to watch Zimbabwe in their first Test in Australia was incentive enough. "That country is going through hell," said Peter, who'd flown in from Melbourne specifically for the match. "I think it's great to be able to come and watch these guys play and support them. It's important. I'm not even that worried about the result. I'm just glad it's happening. Isn't that the prime objective of good sport?" His friend Richard was more interested in potentials. "This is bound to be Steve Waugh's last appearance on Perth soil," he said. "I wanted to be here to see that."

There were other, more sombre overtones to the day. The players wore black armbands and led the crowd in 88 seconds' silence (one second for each Australian casualty) to commemorate the first anniversary of the Bali nightclub bombings, in which over 200 people died. The mood was overwhelming, predetermining, and effective. "And they say politics and sport don't mix," said John from Geraldton. "At times like this it's terrific that they do." He laughed as the PA system crackled into high-decibel life and, in stark contrast to the prevalent mood, the ground announcer offered a prize for the best-dressed fan of the day. The cameras honed in on three beer-swilling Elvis impersonators. "Oh well," said John. "I guess that's the sadness over. Now on with the game."

By lunchtime, some were attempting to create a new sporting tradition known locally as the "rugby/cricket crossover". "Apparently some of the Springboks are here," said John, ready to mount a reconnaissance mission to see if the rumours were true. "I've also heard a whisper that some of the English guys will be coming down tomorrow. I wonder if Wilko will be here. I wonder if he even likes cricket."

By the tea interval, John hadn't returned from his Springbok-hunting, and his friends were preparing to mark him down as Missing In Action. By stumps, as the players walked to the pavilion, the shadows stretched across the pitch, and the Elvises "left the building", the announcer reminded us about tomorrow's prize for the best-dressed fan. Maybe tomorrow he can broadcast the warning for all Perth-based non-sports fans. Leave this place immediately. The sports-fest has only just begun.