The place is San Francisco, the venue is Alcatraz Island and the purpose is a rare immersion in non-sport culture in the midst of covering the World Cup on the US West Coast. Here, dutifully reading about the ill-fated 1962 prison escape plan, it felt like I’d been thrown into the middle of The Shawshank Redemption as I toured around the site which housed criminals such as Al Capone, an eerie 1.5 miles offshore. No wonder the escapees were never seen again.
Satisfied that my thirst for something akin to normal touristy tropes had been met, I was queuing for the boat back to the city when I felt something from high above. With not a cloud to be seen, it certainly wasn’t rain. And one quick look down at my t-shirt informed me that a seagull had, well… you know.
