1.00pm sees the boys take the dinghy ashore at Whisper Cove. We walk up to the road and wait..and wait for a minibus. Eventually our friendly bus driver, Shademan, arrives. He takes us to the main road via a roadside garage who might have a Suzuki jeep for Jack to buy. We catch the Number 2 bus into St George's and walk to the ground. Its 2.30 and the game is due to kick off at 3.30. There is no one, just nobody around. Jack's T shirt generates interest from a Rasta. "Respect mon" but otherwise it is quiet. Finally we find a way into the Grenada National Stadium, often full for Test Matches, but rarely it seems for World Cup qualifiers. We determine that it is indeed a 3.30pm ko and we finally see some other supporters....the crew from Oyster Mist! After an almost complete circuit of the ground we finally get in. About 20 others greet us. No beer but for 16EC (£4) we can get a half bottle of Grenadian white rum, two cokes and two bottles of water from Grand Etang, the lake in the middle of the island we visited last week.
By kickoff there are perhaps 180 people in the ground. We think that Grenada are 1-0 down after the first leg. They play in green with a vertical yellow and red stripe (the national colours). Grenada is known as the Spice Island so not surprisingly we are cheering for "D' Spice Boyz". Oh yes, there's a dog in the outfield too. This must be a pre, pre, pre qualifier because the finals are not until 2018 in Russia.
Before the teams come out the ref and linesmen come out to do their own warm up. They must be mates, or they were practising in the hotel the previous night, because every stretch, every jumping antelope, every twist and turn is done in unison. The sole camera there for the game laps it up and so do we.
The National Anthems are interesting because they don't appear to have Puerto Ricos anthem on their playlist. The Puerto Ricans all stand there with hands on hearts waiting for it to start. It's half a minute before they finally find it deep in the archives. Even when it does get going it is just the same as everyone else's. Nobody boos it, everybody stands and is thoroughly respectful.
Kick off and it is fairly evenly matched. Puerto Rico are the better footballing team, Grenada have lots of energy. Nobody knows the offside rule, or in many cases the corner rule either. We're just having a super afternoon out. Then Puerto Rico score. Luckily it's an own goal, a cracker from around the penalty spot. All square and suddenly Grenada believe they can win it. A wave of anticipation ripples through the meagre crowd. It stays 1-0 until half time when the teams return up the steps to the 'pavilion' more used to hosting test match players then soccer idols.
It must be free to get in now (rather than the £2.20 we paid) as people are flooding in and the tannoy lady has to tell us to keep the aisles free. It's chaos on the way to the toilets as I have to pass through the rum bar, now doing great business.
The second half starts and Grenada have more belief. The crowd is getting noisier (read drunker). Another great save from the goalie. Then he tries to throw it out to his left full back but it bounces in front of him instead. What the hell. I might as well dribble it past the halfway line, beating three men on the way and leaving the goal exposed. Wow! Biggest cheer of the afternoon. But now the captain is coming back to castigate him. Castigate him, my arse, it's high fives all round. Eat your heart out Hart.
With 15 minutes left it's a corner to Grenada. Great corner, great cross, great header. 2-0 Grenada and now the place is rocking. The dog gallops the full length of the pitch and the final whistle blows. The players come over to salute us, the crowd. Everyone seems to know at least one player personally. What a game. Grenada are into the next round of the 2018 World Cup.
Jack and I walk back into town looking for a roti. A woman tells us rotis are for the morning. They will be bad by now and might kill us. We find one though at The Nutmeg Restaurant overlooking the harbour or careenage. Great value and a fantastic local nutmeg ice cream to finish.
It's getting dark now and we've had a few beers. The bays along the south of the island where we are anchored are complex and we only know we are close to a hamlet called Woburn. We find a bus stop. We need a No 2 but not just any No 2. It's has to be a Woburn one. They all look the same but eventually yet another No 2 comes round the corner. "Stop", the Mommas shout. He stops. We are the only passengers for most of the four mile ride back to the Marina. It costs us 2.50EC* (60p). What an afternoon.
* ECs are Eastern Caribbean dollars. They are used in all the former British colonies over here, whilst the French islands stick with euros. There are 4.6 to the UK pound. Prices are often quoted just in dollars and then you don't know if they mean ECs (cheap) or US dollars (expensive). EC notes and coins have a very young looking Queen adorning them. I've no idea why they can't get a more recent picture of Her Majesty. All this means we have one purse with ECs, one with euros, another with US dollars and then one with UK pounds for when we go home. Plus of course bits of Turkish lira. We never have enough of the correct currency when we get to a new country. C'est La vie.
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