Afternoon tea (salmon and cream cheese club sandwhich, Victoria sponge and chocolate cake) at Lord's Cricket Ground in London, in May 2013. Photo / Andrew Alderson
Afternoon tea (salmon and cream cheese club sandwhich, Victoria sponge and chocolate cake) at Lord's Cricket Ground in London, in May 2013. Photo / Andrew Alderson
Alarming news has emerged from the Rugby World Cup about the lack of free tucker on offer to media covering the tournament.
On a recent episode of the Rugby Direct podcast, Herald writer Liam Napier suggested “it’s not hard to put on a ham and cheese baguette”, while Newstalk ZB commentator Elliott Smith lamented an ordering system he described as “a bit of a shambles”.
From Mumbai to Lord’s and on to Monaco, their well-seasoned colleague Andrew Alderson has spent 20 years grazing towards an unofficial PhD in sports media event menus.
He presents his top-10 international experiences chowing down at all-expenses paid troughs.
10. Monaco Diamond League – Monte Carlo, July 2015
An old journalist chum offered some pre-meet wisdom: “Make sure you come to the launch presser to tuck into the free hors d’oeuvres and champagne.” Like any reputable reporter, he was factually correct. Better to hoe in there than pay $25 for a beer at the Fairmont Monte Carlo hotel bar.
Money can still struggle to buy taste at such exclusive establishments. On the way out via the rooftop pool, a bloke sat on a sun lounger sipping a glass of rosé, smoking a cigar and eating a strawberry ice cream simultaneously.
9. The women’s Open golf championship – St Andrews, August 2013
August is meant to correlate with summer in Scotland, but the opening round at the Old Course brought a sepia conveyor belt of clouds constantly crossing towards the North Sea and a gallery dressed as if poised to embark on a polar expedition.
Fortunately, organisers teed off with their offerings in the media bunker. Piping hot cock-a-leekie soup with tattie scones provided hearty fare before rugging up to follow the progress of 16-year-old amateur Lydia Ko. Her matching cool temperament led to a three-under par 69. She had turned professional within three months.
Andrew Alderson takes a stroll in between meals at St Andrews. Photo / Supplied
8. Triathlon world championships – Lausanne, September 2006
Picture this commute: A 20-minute train ride from Montreux to Lausanne with steepling vineyards on your right and a sparkling Lac Leman on your left.
Stroll to the five-star Beau Rivage Hotel on the waterfront and settle into a ballroom moonlighting as a media centre for Hamish Carter’s last world championships. Cue waiters sporting silver trays clustered with prawn shish kebabs, followed by a transition to canapes draped in salmon and dill with a squeeze of lemon, and a final leg consisting of fruit salad to freshen the palate. Voila!
7. Olympic equestrian three-day event – London, July 2012
Watching the cross-country inspired awe, given the trust between rider and horse as each combination galloped through meadows and attacked fences.
The occasion also tested journalistic temptation when trotting among folk roaring approval from tartan picnic rugs with wicker baskets spilling forth sandwiches and cakes.
6. Olympic downhill skiing – Vancouver, February 2010
“What’s your job on the mountain,” I inquired of a woman in a smurf-blue volunteer’s uniform as we shared a chairlift to the Whistler piste.
“Today, I’m a chilli-wench,” she replied with the sort of politically incorrect gusto sure to incite frowns these days.
Further investigation revealed the ebullient Julie’s responsibility was to ensure enough bowls of chilli-con-carne were transported up the mountain to keep fans and media nourished throughout the day.
As a cricket tragic, the prospect of standing at the top of your bowling mark, looking down a pitch and seeing Sir Isaac Vivian Alexander Richards taking guard was both terrifying and exhilarating.
The words of James Bond creator Ian Fleming flashed through my mind: “Worry is the dividend paid to disaster before it is due.”
I was right to worry. In a disaster, albeit of only cricketing proportions, the Master Blaster dispatched each of my three full toss petals increasingly closer to South America in front of hundreds of his worshippers.
Still, the stacks of jerk chicken and gallons of rum punch on offer afterwards helped numb any embarrassment as the reggae band “Big Bad Dread And The Baldhead” with Richie Richardson on rhythm guitar and Curtly Ambrose on bass entertained revellers all evening.
NZME sports journalist Andrew Alderson comes in off his long run when bowling to Sir Viv Richards during a game of beach cricket in Antigua in 2007. Picture / Supplied
4. Commonwealth Games – Delhi, October 2010
In an uplifting chapter of journalistic esprit de corps, various members of the New Zealand contingent were invited to the national press club by their Indian counterparts as the sun set on the Commonwealth Games.
We were ushered through back streets and eventually a literal red carpet into a plush softly-lit premises where the club manager, Mr Pushpendra, solemnly issued guest passes.
Our hosts treated us to no-holds-barred hospitality: Moreish samosas, crisp bhajis and succulent curries, all washed down with top-shelf liquor and sprinkled with scintillating anecdotes and witty repartee.
Controversially, Mr Pushpendra was ousted in a political putsch months later but the largesse shown was unwavering and will never be forgotten.
Media received the privilege of an invitation to the New Zealand rowing team’s post-regatta hurrah after they delivered what was then a record medal haul for the sport – pre-Tokyo 2021 – of three gold and two bronze.
Kim Lee and Ali Foers of the Cambridge-based catering company Gourmet Delicious were the campaign’s unsung heroes. They fed and watered the country’s best oarspeople at a rustic cottage just up from the Eton Dorney course. On the final day, the pair put on a Michelin-worthy banquet, but the medium-rare steak with the juices sealed deserves special commendation. Those Angus beasts made the ultimate sacrifice to deliver the country Olympic glory. We shall remember them.
Stephen Fleming made what must rank as one of history’s most underrated 89s as part of 195 all out. To put his endurance in perspective, I glugged six litres of water between the arrival hall and the innings break and still felt about as hydrated as a raisin.
Suddenly, the aroma of dinner wafted over the bleachers. Scribes rose and followed each other as if pursuing an invisible Pied Piper to the rear of the stand. Stainless steel trays of curry, biryani, naan, roti, samosas, poppadoms and basmati rice lined the walls competing for your nostrils’ attention. I camped there well into the second innings until the Proteas spoilt my stay at the buffet crease by capitulating 87 runs short.
1. New Zealand v England 1st test, Lord’s – London, May 2013
The claim that food is enjoyed three times – the anticipation, the consumption and the remembrance – resonates regarding Lord’s lunches. My first time wielding a knife and fork at the Marylebone Cricket Club came on the opening day of this series when fellow New Zealand correspondent Mark Geenty sent a text which stated simply: “Breaking news, menu revealed.” I’ve savoured every chance to repeat this experience since.
The sporting media army tends to march on its stomach and there’s no finer mess tent than at the back of the Lord’s press box. Wise patrons fast early in the day before gathering in a salivating queue with plate in hand like Augustus Gloop of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory fame.
Roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, lamb shoulder, chicken breast and fillets of salmon have all been served through the years, as have potatoes in multiple guises, seasonal salads and vegetables and a slate of decadent puddings, many of which embrace strawberries.
However, the area where the Lord’s menu probably still leaves serious challengers like Edgbaston following-on is the second innings at tea. When the club sandwiches – think salmon-and-cream cheese or curried egg – emerge, or the selection of cakes and slices showcased by jam-and-cream sponges, part of you contemplates surrendering peacefully. But no, willpower be damned. You forge on in a gluttonous rampage.
* This story is dedicated to the late, great, bon viveur David Leggat, the ultimate gourmet of New Zealand sports journalism who piled his plate with the best.
