Dylan Cleaver: Intoxicating Cricket World Cup brew has nothing to do with booze

India's paceman Mohammed Shami (C) celebrates his second wicket of Pakistan's batsman Wahab Riaz (R). Photo / Getty Images

As thousands of triumphant Indian fans poured through Adelaide's parklands and on to a heaving North Terrace - where most of the major hotels are situated - a curious thing happened.

A group of Pakistani supporters, all men, all in their 20s or thereabouts, stopped and clapped a group of particularly joyous blue-shirted Indians as they danced past, waving their flags and chanting a ditty that only David Warner would have struggled to decipher.

Given the tempestuous relationship between the two countries, this stopped me in my tracks.

I have been in the aftermath of Bledisloe Cup tests when the atmosphere has been hostile, when supporters have worn abuse you wouldn't aim at a dog because of the colour of their jerseys. I've stood outside the same Adelaide Oval and watched New Zealanders taunted to the point of punches after a day at the cricket. It's just banter, mate.

Yet here were two sets of supporters from countries that detest each other - the very existence of Pakistan is anathema to most Indians - yet they seemed collegial.

All the way, from city to ground, from ground back to city, the walkways were chocka, but not once did I witness anything resembling trouble. It's a small sample size and if the venue had been Karachi or Mumbai, no doubt there would be an added frisson, but supporters with much less historic rivalry still manage to take their nastiness overseas.

For me, the answer lay in something much simpler: booze.

Not only did I not see a single fight or harsh word, I didn't see a single spectator who was obviously intoxicated. When is the last time you could say that after - or before - a major sporting event in New Zealand?

The Indians and Pakistanis offered a new way of looking at sport spectatorship: it is sport for sport's sake, not sport as an excuse to get on the lash.

We've been conditioned - and advertising plays a large role in this - to associate the game with alcohol. It's a default setting: a couple of beers before the game, queue up for more when you get there, hit the pubs afterwards. It's a social occasion as much as it is a match. And there's nothing wrong with that, until it turns into a fight, or a chunder in front of an unsuspecting family.

Now I can over-indulge with the worst of them, so this is not a sermon, but it is a plea of sorts. Go to a World Cup game. Enjoy a cleansing ale or three if it's what you feel like, but leave your nastiness at the front door. And if you see your mate acting like a pork chop, give him this message: No more beersies for you, champ.