Nocturnal Argentina - November 2010

It’s that time of year again in Argentina when the rugby posts come down and are replaced by picket fences and sight-screens. It’s the cricket season, and it started with two weekends of Twenty20 cricket to ease the players’ bodies back into the season.

A typical night time scene at goodness
 knows what hour in BA

What became clear was not any lack of fitness, but that the players were struggling to ease out of their winter weekend social routine. You would think that it would be impossible for players to be late for a 2pm start wouldn’t you?

Why you may ask? Well the culture in Argentina is to have dinner late. And when I say late I mean late.  Locals meet up about midnight for a drink then go to a restaurant at about 1am, finish their meal by 4am. Then possibly go to a bar for a couple of drinks to finish the ‘evening’. Then head off home with the milkman, so to speak, at around 6am.

I must stress that the players are not out boozing as it is very unfashionable for Argentines to get drunk.  In the space of an evening they may only drink a couple of glasses of wine and four coffees.

 Players waiting to go into bat.
Keep your eyes open boys!

In England, I fondly recall 11pm on Saturday evening, switching the TV off - after Match of the Day, obviously - and crawling into bed.  Now I’am dragging myself out to have dinner and socialise at that time. I have tried to get on with this bat-like culture but have failed miserably. I no longer accept dinner invites any longer later than 10pm, because I inevitably feel my eyes closing half way through desert.

To make matters worse, for this nation complying with these nocturnal eating habits there is no afternoon siesta. As far as I can make out, the whole country is surviving on the same amount of sleep as Maggie Thatcher when she was PM.

This sleep deprivation can not only cause the odd face-down-in-the-trifle social faux pas, but imagine what problems an opening batter is likely to face after two hours shut-eye before going out to bat? I am already feeling sorry for the poor souls, whose partners have arranged dinner dates without knowing that the cricket season is upon us. They will be the ones with heads like parcel shelf dogs as they face up to their first delivery.