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Memoir of a Commentary Engineer #2

A Sign Of The Times

For those of you who have not had the pleasure of touring the various venues of the RWC, I'd like to explain some of the many joys that can be found therein. In fact, finding them therein is actually the best bit.

Peppered around your stadium du jour will be some very nice signs. These have clearly been constructed with a great deal of thought. The colour scheme and layout all follow what are no doubt strict guidelines - ensuring that that they comply with exact criteria for all RWC branded publications. There is a green background and some lovely blue lettering upon it. There are, to my mind, a couple of rather problematic aspects to the finished work of the RWC Venue Signage Committee, or whatever. If I may, I'd like to make a couple of suggestions for next time.

Firstly, there have been a few startling developments in the field of transportation lately, that may not have been brought to the committee's attention. Nowadays, a lot of people use things that can be broadly categorised as motorised vehicles, to get from place to place. These travel on things known as roads. One of the problems with such contraptions is that they go a bit fast. Even faster than you can run (ok, I know, but we're not in London now). These obviously unforeseen features can make it just the teensiest bit difficult to see the two inch high, blue on green words on a sign thirty feet from the road that say "Media Entrance". This can be compounded if the sign actually faces away from the road, as they are marginally more difficult to read from the back.

Secondly. I'd like, if possible, to broaden the whole concept of the sign to encompass an even wider remit than showing where you currently are. It's jolly useful to know that the door your about to walk through leads to the Media Centre, or something equally delicious, but I think it may be possible, given a great deal of time and consideration, to have signs that actually show the way to a place as well. A bit radical, maybe, but I'm willing to bet that people could get used to it.

Naturally enough for a world event, nothing has been left to chance. No doubt realising that there could be people, who despite the clear signage, are still too stupid to work out where they are or need to go, there is a second tier of defence. Significant numbers of uniformed, smiling and friendly looking people roam the concourses with a demeanour which oozes "Can I help?" The answer, sadly, is an emphatic "No".

Having whirled around a stadium two or three times before finding the by then almost mythical Media Entrance, carrying what can best be described as a lot of commentary equipment ones spirits rise only to be dashed again. Answers to the question "Can you tell me where the Press Tribune is please?" range as follows: "The what?", "The Media Centre's over the other side", "Do you mean the Media Centre?", "I dunno mate, but the Media Centre's on the other side". You get the idea. Following up with "Don't worry, where's the Broadcast Compound?" simply brings a look of total incredulity, with the notable exception of "Ha ha. That's a good one".

Once again the nylon underpants of time are brought smartly up the cleft of fate…