Steady, soldier. England's squad could be heading into the third Ashes Test now 2-0 down, but not everyone in English cricket is disheartened. Exists one group tailor-made for such a situation, a dedicated unit who consider themselves the supreme experts in defeat. Are hopes dashed? Is the disappointment beneath the burden of failed hopes? In that case, rally to the Barmy Army.
Even now, their early arrivals are gathering in Adelaide, the city where they were established 30 years ago. England's most famous – and for their size most raucous – tourist followers will be hoping for an celebratory against-all-odds victory, reminiscent of the one they witnessed on that mid-90s tour. Furthermore no matter the outcome on the pitch, away from the field the revelries will be long and loud.
"The cricket's been incredibly disappointing," a veteran states, "yet we're the fortunate few, because we're on holiday. It's likely harder for the people at home."
Even a dramatic batting collapse fails to deter this crew of hardened veterans. They've been observing England's innings meltdowns since earlier than the latest star took the field. They've seen more fielding errors than key pacemen have career scalps. Their touring history as an Ashes touring group is: played 37, lost 27, won 6. If anyone knows how to endure a whitewash, it's the original supporters.
Without a doubt, on television, the Barmy Army do seem to be ubiquitous this series. Host broadcasters at the grounds sometimes appear more focused on the Barmies than in their own fans. Sports networks regularly use them as atmosphere-building prelude to a day's play. Even the cricketers on the field give them a wave, as someone clad as a monarch starting a chorus of a patriotic song.
One could argue that the Barmy Army's combination of endurance and ubiquity has now obscured quite how stunning their dominance of away support has been. In the early 1990s a small group backpackers were drawn together in wry self-deprecation at England's woeful away record. Now their legacy is so intertwined with the men's Test side that their colourful, "unique" crowd is all but part of the furniture. They've certainly come a long way since the humble beginnings.
One original still remembers the eager expectation of the series start of that pioneering tour. After the opposition making a strong start, he initiated a small conga in the stands, winding up the Australian supporters with a song about convicts. "Home supporters hurled abuse at us, then threw drink containers – the kind of thing that we sometimes receive today," he recalls. "Yet when we got back our little group of England followers had all taken part."
Following an early setback, England's tour continued to struggle. Those following the team around the country surely was slightly mad. When it came to the Melbourne and Sydney matches their numbers had increased to the hundreds. Those on the field, however, truly appreciated their support at the grounds. When England managed a face-saving victory, a team captain invited a Barmy Army figure up to the team balcony to join in the revelry. This connection remains.
Additionally, the large crowds the Barmy Army can attract are as valuable to the cricket authorities as they are to overseas venues. On this tour alone, their organised trips will accommodate a significant contingent of paying travellers. Numerous activities are planned for the three-decade milestone.
This is, after all, an group born of cricketing passion and business acumen. The explanation they trace their origin to a specific Test is because that was when they started offering merchandise. The short initial run was so quickly sold out – and financially rewarding – that it launched a thriving business. Over the years, the co-founders have helped turn a group of mates into an major sports tourism business.
That creates its own issues, particularly at a time when sport is looking to shed some of its lads-lads-lads image. The Barmy Army's management are quick to note that a sizable minority of their supporters on tour are now women. As times have changed, the vocals have had to get cleaner, too. "Comments that were acceptable 30 years ago you must avoid now, and that's correct," says a spokesperson. "We can't tell someone how to behave within the confines of their seat, but we won't support songs that are insulting."
Could the Barmy Army mellow naturally? The average supporter age is now in the late 40s – like the pioneers, who have been happy to withdraw from the daily operation. One founder is experiencing this tour purely as a fan – leaving young professionals to populate the Barmy Army's digital presence. "We forget how hard it used to be to communicate with each other," he laughs. "Our method was all by word of mouth – 'everyone's going to the pub!'"
Regarding the current contest, the impossible dream of a historic comeback remains alive, which is classic Barmy Army indeed. Should England succumb in Adelaide … well, future travels awaits.
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