The sights, smells and sounds of live sport ...

MOST of my education was through the Kenyan preparatory school system, where you had to play as many sports as possible to have any chance of a decent social life. So ask me if I played cricket and I’ll say yes. Ask me if I enjoyed it as much as other sports and I’ll probably try and change the subject.

When I move to the US the same general apathy transferred to baseball. While I can respect the skill and often astounding salaries that both cricketers and baseball players earn, sitting me down to watch either game on TV takes some convincing. It didn’t help that my local team, the Milwaukee Brewers, were underperforming at best and unwatchable on their worst days.

That said, watching either game in person is by far the best way to get to fully appreciate either. South Africa’s T20 clash against New Zealand at SuperSport Park had all the sights, sounds and smells that round out the ideal stadium experience.

I started to build up my own anticipation travelling up to the stadium on the Gautrain. As Centurion Station drew closer the train filled more and more with green and gold. You have to appreciate how during trips to games, anywhere in the world, the antisocial conventions of public transportation often go out the window when people see others in the same jersey.

At the grounds, the spectacle comes first, and the talent on hand didn’t disappoint. Great players capture your attention and keep you in suspense with their every action. You could sense the unseasonably large crowd’s anticipation when AB de Villiers entered to bat on his home ground. He treated them to an exciting but shortlived innings.

When Kagiso Rabada was on his hattrick, the atmosphere was on edge, begging for a third wicket that never came.

The painted ground offered little slide to the fielders, and costly errors in fielding drew groans.

Walking around the ground offered a show in itself. I lost count of the number of small cricket games that were happening around the main event. Pyrotechnics and steam marked the boundaries and fireworks accented each wicket.

All of the smells from the concession stands and the brick grills added hunger and thirst to the visual enjoyment.

Then there’s the more subliminal pleasure that’s evoked when you hear the sounds of the game. The thud of leather-covered cork meeting thick willow, far more gratifying than the sharp crack of baseball’s equivalent. The even rarer treat was the crackle as wickets are crushed and bails fly.

Playing background to these are the noises around the stadium – the cheers after a catch or boundary by a member of the Proteas was made, the whoop of the Mexican wave as it circles around the ground like a deranged ambulance.

You have to appreciate any event that draws thousand of people from their comfy couches to a grassy hill in the afternoon sun, or an uncomfortable folding seat in a baseball stadium, even if it was to see their side convincingly beaten.