BYC Abu Dhabi styles

After the dreadful attack on New Zealand's current cricketing nemesis - Sri Lanka - in Lahore, the United Arab Emirates made strides toward a much more significant position in the world of cricket. Earlier this year The Guardian even went as far as saying: "The Gulf states could become a new home for cricket." Seen as a neutral safehouse for the sport, Dubai is already home to the ICC's headquarters and, along with nearby Abu Dhabi and Sharjah, looks set to become a venue of choice for any and all relocated international cricketing fixtures. But away from the piles of UAE dirhams (aka "sheikh cash"), there is an untelevised form of the game: the Middle East's interpretation of BYC. Given the state of the terrain, it would be taking the mickey to describe it as "grassroots cricket" although in effect that's what it is. The Beige Brigade's Arabian Gulf ambassador went along for a frolic of backyard cricket, Abu Dhabi-style recently. Here is his report.

Basically the UAE has a massive population of Indian and Pakistani workers, mainly involved in construction and services such as drivers, tea boys, cleaners, and so on.

The drivers at work caught wind that I was a Kiwi and hit me up about my thoughts on the world's best cricketer...which I told them was Jeetan Patel, closely followed by Grant Elliott. Blank response. However, I quickly made a lot of new friends when I corrected my mistake and mentioned the word "Tendulkar".

One of them asked if I wanted to play cricket with them, and I agreed. I followed my acceptance up with some standard western cricket banter: "I'm going to tear you a new eye hole" and "I'm going to knock your block off" - that sort of thing. I was met with not one smile...and no retort. Odd.

Saturday morning gameday arrived. Jerry (our main driver) told me to meet him at a petrol station on the main road. I was instructed to follow him to the ground as apparently it was quite difficult to find. Easily the understatement of the year. Jerry proceeded to drive to the back blocks of Abu Dhabi...past the industrial estate and into a new development of villas, all unfinished and just plonked in random order on what could only be described as a rocky moonscape.

The venue had to be such a backwater because the locals do not take kindly to Pakistani workers smashing balls all over their expensive, expansive green parks.

After weaving through the villas we came to a clearing, of sorts. It was basically a space where 4/5 more villas were due to go up. But not today. Today this would serve as the ground. We were surrounded not by picket fences or grass embankments, but by half-built reinforced concrete foundations, rubble, sheets of steel and random cinder blocks.

We rolled up - the opposition were all huddled in their Hi-Ace van sucking up the last bit of air conditioning. Later on I wished I had such foresight.

The toss was made. We were sent in first. The pitch contained rocks the size of your fist so variable bounce was an issue and also something of a health risk. To alleviate the variable bounce a 2m x 3m Persian rug was placed under the batsman's feet. Ingenious!

The most brilliant thing about the game was the way they stuck to EVERY SINGLE one of cricket's laws. There was no popping crease, yet I got called for three no-balls. I also got called for "one short"! The game was constantly held up due to 10-minute arguments over the length of the pitch. They even enforced the one bouncer an over rule even though approximately half the deliveries would scream past your nose from a good length.

I copped two to the fingers and one to the back of the head. Donning my hat of recklessness, I charged every ball to try and get it before it hit the minefield: 4-6-4 but then they worked me out and just dug it in even shorter, also increasing the potential for me to soon incur massive dental bills.

The game finished in darkness with arguments echoing into the night around the suspect bowling action of a particular Pakistani mail delivery boy.

I've been invited back - but I have to stop saying "Shabaash...shabaash" like Rashid Latif used to do relentlessly every ball - because apparently it's quite annoying.

PHOTOS: Courtesy www.beigebrigade.co.nz