So how's my luck?!!

I have spent the last 3 years in the US calculating time differences, programming recording equipment, setting alarm clocks at ungodly hours and guzzling caffeine laden coffee, all in an effort to follow the South African team on TV as they ply their trade around the cricketing globe.

I have not been back commentating in South Africa for that duration of time and I can honestly say I have been looking forward to hooking up with brand SuperSport again.

It all started so well as we gathered in Port Elizabeth the afternoon before the 4th ODI. My former SuperSport commentary and production mates and I were huddled around a television set in our hotel, sampling a few brown liquid vitamin tablets as the Boks took on the Irish. The banter was flying around. No-one was left unscathed as good natured insults flew left, right and centre. It was just like old times and I had missed it. It was great to catch up with them all. Nothing had changed with the Rhino holding centre stage, just as I had remembered! Even the rugby loss could not dampen the spirits as story after story was traded around the bar!

The next morning I awoke wide eyed at 4am, still on LA time. Up I got, turned on the box and caught a re-run of the 700th show of Boots & All with my mate Darren Scott in fine form. He's a pro that bloke.

Once the sun came up I realised it was a beautiful, windless day in PE. I was raring to go and eager to embrace the microphone. We got to the ground in good spirits and I certainly anticipated that the home team would continue their startling form from Cape Town a mere 72 hours before.

So how's my luck?

A few hours later SA had received a huge klap! I had not come all this way to see the Englishmen win. A near record lowest ODI score and a day of disarray made sure the following morning's headlines were far from complimentary. Never mind, I thought. It's off to Durban now where the boys will regroup and level the series in front of a parochial capacity crowd that would be already practising giving the visitors heaps. A quick check of all the necessities for Durban and I was set to travel. Board shorts, sunglasses, cap, a novel and sunscreen were high on my packing priorities as a day or two by the beach baking in the sun was a racing certainty.

So how's my luck?

From the moment I touched down the rain was teeming. It proceeded to do the same for the next 4 days, waking me from my slumber at times at night, such was it's ferocity. The days were clouded by a permanent haze (pardon the pun) and the KwaZulu Natal sun that I remembered so fondly was substituted by grey gloomy unrelenting skies. The bloke next door was named Noah and I am sure I saw and heard him building some massive boat in the dark of the night and calling animals' names, two by two!

The only ray of sunshine came when I washed some boerewors down with a glass of South Africa's finest red.

So, umbrella in hand and rubber boots on foot, off I went to game day. I knew at that stage that no play would be possible after the deluge that had swamped Durban. As I left Noah was closing the doors and pulling up the anchor.

My day was a washout. The banter was swirling around the commentary box continuously. The Rhino was now not even taking a breath between regaling tales and showering abuse on his colleagues.

Fours hours later when the umpires eventually conceded to the elements I bid farewell to my former SuperSport commentary mates and hit the road.

A substandard performance from the home team in PE and serious rain in Durban combined to add a degree of frustration to my whistle stop trip.

The humour and fun of my mates made it worthwhile and I enjoyed donning the SuperSport badge again.

May Team South Africa make my upcoming early morning caffeine spiked vigils back in Los Angeles in the Test series worthwhile.