“Sofia Vergara, can you hear me? Sofia Vergara … your boys took a hell of a beating! Your boys took a hell of a beating!”
— with apologies to Bjørge Lillelien

There have been any number of memorably moments in British sporting history. England winning the World Cup. Andy Murray’s triumph at Wimbledon. The four-minute mile. “Super Saturday” at the London Olympics. But on Monday in Phoenix, Arizona, a no less shocking victory took place, when the Great Britain team beat Colombia 7-5 in… baseball. Yes: baseball. You probably didn’t even know we had a team. But it exists, and this year, qualified for the first time to reach the finals of the World Baseball Classic. This is baseball’s version of the World Cup, pitting nations from around the globe against each other. Now, it’s a regional sport, like cricket or rugby. Strong in east Asia, the Americas and the Caribbean. Europe? Not so much.

There is history for Britain. It was mentioned by Jane Austen in Northanger Abbey: “It was not very wonderful that Catherine… should prefer cricket, base-ball, riding on horseback, and running about the country at the age of fourteen, to books.” Before the war, it was surprisingly popular in the UK, with crowds of up to ten thousand watching games. In 1938, a team of top US amateurs came over to play British amateurs, and lost four of the five matches. But after the war, the sport went into a decline. For me, a love affair with it began after I moved to Arizona in November 2000. The following year, the local team secured my fandom forever, winning the championship, known as the World Series, in one of the most dramatic and (post 9/11) emotional match-ups of all time: I wrote about that then, and back in 2003 – before the World Baseball Classic even existed – also discussed the potential global appeal of the sport.

The British team have never done much. At the European championships, they have one medal to their name since 1967 and at the most recent event, finished sixth of sixteen. When it came time to qualify for the World Baseball Classic, no-one expected much, with the team ranked 23rd in the world. The event was originally scheduled to have taken place here in Arizona, and we planned to go down to Tucson to cheer on Team GB. That was March 2020, and… well, y’know… [/gestures vaguely] Shit happened. It ended up taking place two and a half years later, in Germany. Britain cruised past France, avoided losing to Germany on penalties, and came back from 8-3 down against Spain to win 10-9 on the final play of the game. Britain was going to the WBC for the first time, and would play Mexico, Canada, Colombia and (ulp!) the USA. Better still, here in Phoenix.

They opened on Saturday with an honourable 6-2 loss to USA, who had a line-up stacked with players who are everyday names here. The British line-up? Not so much. Their best-known player was likely outfielder Trayce Thompson, who plays for Los Angeles. Although born in that city, he qualified for Britain due to his parents, who were both born in the Bahamas, back when it was a colony. He wasn’t the only one. Of the 37 players on the squad, no less than seven were Bahamas-born – more than the six born in the actual United Kingdom. Of the remainder, most were US citizens, obviously, with the Canada and US Virgin Islands also contributing. Some were playing in lower-level leagues, some still at college, and some were former players. Pitcher Jake Esch is a civil engineer, who hadn’t played professionally for five years.

But that’s a joy of baseball: on any given day, anything can happen. That’s a reason why the major-league season involves each team playing one hundred and sixty-two games. Even the worst team there will still typically win about one third of the time, and the best will lose about the same. In this edition of the WBC, we had already seen a Czech electrician get the best of Shohei Ohtani, a superstar with 3.3m Instagram followers, who’ll probably get a contract worth $400m or so this winter. Against the United States, Great Britain scored first, but apparently forgot this wasn’t cricket, and more than two innings need to be played. The talent of the US prevailed, and worse was to follow for the Brits the next day. They played Canada and were hammered so badly, the game was stopped early, due to the “mercy rule”, where contests end if they become too one-sided.

We originally were supposed to have gone to that game, but fate had other plans. My mother-in-law passed away, and her celebration of life was the same day, so naturally took precedence. But avoiding that Canadian disaster worked out for the best. We instead got tickets for Britain’s third game, against Colombia on Monday afternoon (we heard her favorite artist played over the PA during the game, which feels like a sign of approval). That came at Chase Field, the night after it a sellout crowd of 47,534 fans has seen a pulsating game between the US and Mexico, won by the latter. Our contest? Not so much. The official attendance was just over ten thousand, but that number felt more like tickets sold than people present. Though we were far from the only British supporters present, Colombia had a clear edge in numbers, and certainly in volume: they chanted, sang and danced for virtually the whole event.

A big difference to football: there’s no separation of home and away fans in baseball. That’s in part because distance means traveling fans are rarer: the closest other major-league team to Phoenix is over 350 miles away. But there’s not the same organized mayhem either. Fights break out occasionally, but it’s almost only ever two drunk guys flailing at each other. So, we found ourselves sitting just in Colombians (next to the family shown above), who were loud and exuberant, especially when they headed out to an early 3-0 lead. I was just hoping for Team GB not to get mercy ruled again. But then, the Colombian pitchers started to lose their control, and Britain was able to take advantage – first tying the game, then miraculously taking the lead. It was glorious. When one of their players got a big hit, they mimed sipping tea. The biggest hits were rewarded with a crown and robe (below) as they went back to the dugout.

I was still convinced we’d find a way to lose. Again, probably on penalties. It certainly got scary at the end, not going to lie. Colombia didn’t give up, and my palms have barely dried out. But Britain held on, to win 7-5, for their first ever victory. It was something I never expected to see, least of all experience in person. I did feel sorry for the Colombians, whose disappointment, even embarrassment, was palpable. But they were gracious in defeat, exchanging fist-bumps and “buen juegos” with us on the way out. I will confess to enthusiastically high-fiving other Anglo expats as we left the ballpark. I hope such un-British exuberance doesn’t get my citizenship revoked. Normal service was resumed the following day, with another honourably narrow loss to Mexico, 2-1. All told, it was a very respectable performance by Team GB, and the win means they automatically qualify for the next WBC, in 2026. We’re coming for you, Yankees… 🙂