Commentary

So much for champs!

FOR THE FIRST time in about 20 years last Saturday, I was in the bleachers at the national stadium witnessing the final hours of Boys' and Girls' Championships 2005. After Saturday it is going to be more than 20 years before I make that mistake again.

The minor riot aside, I encountered some people who, if they represent any significant portion of the future of this country then, as my grandma used to put it "Dawg nyam wi supper."

First though, let me tell you about some of the most amazingly inadequate security procedures that were in place. Queues leading into the bleacher seats were of two varieties ­ male and female. We were searched and anything that looked like it could be used to pick your teeth was confiscated. They took my girlfriend's comb, removing it from her bag, claiming that the teeth were too sharp.

However, that precaution was shot to hell as later that evening people were climbing over the walls ­ like soldier ants trying to find a new home ­ many of whom I assume were armed with knives and God knows what else.

Bored patrons found the experience amusing. Some even got a kick out of getting unobstructed views of the underwear and genitalia of girls big and small climbing over into the stadium. I could only think of what these people were carrying with them and not what was under the girls' skirts.

I guess it was too much of a stretch to think of posting security personnel at the outer perimeter of the stadium wall to prevent that situation.

Patrons were also not allowed to take even plastic bottles into the stadium. This was the first thing that puzzled me because when I got inside there were vendors there selling water in what kind of receptacles? You got it, plastic bottles.

Initially I was wondering why ban plastic bottles but some supporters of Jamaica College opened my eyes to why plastic bottles should be banned. You see, while full, those bottles make for some very deadly projectiles as some policemen and athletes near the start of the 200-metre marker discovered.

Scared

It was the people who were inside though, that really scared me, the kids. Where I was sitting looked like a reunion for escaped convicts. Thug Fest 2005! Young boys with bleached faces and painted on hair lines and sideburns who sucked relentlessly on giant-sized spliffs. You would think it was a ganja jamboree.

And, if the weed was good it would be one thing but that was the worst smelling weed in the world. The weed must have been buried with King Tut. It smelled that old.

And, what's this about boys painting on sideburns? What is the world coming to?

There was one group right in front of where I was sitting that was particularly offensive. One of them, who might have been a very ugly boy or a very, very, very ugly girl, sucked on a spliff that was almost as big as the oversized pair of glasses he/she wore.

Vulnerable

These were kids of high school age sucking of the weed like it was water from the fountain of youth! Dozens of them smoking weed, inhaling donuts and peanuts and spouting language that would make demons blush. The longer I sat there the more vulnerable I felt; kind of like how those Christians must have felt just before their Roman captors released hungry lions on them in the Coliseum.

What was even more disconcerting was that the people coming over the walls were more of the same of what was sitting before me. I was kind of glad that the skirmish broke out thus giving me an excuse to leave.

All I can say is if these are the people who are going to grow up and become players in our society in the next few years, unless there is a drastic and rapid turnaround, it would suit most of us to leave for some distant shore. It's either that or, how can I say this nicely, we are 'copulated?'