Whenever you looked away here yesterday, the chances were you would be missing some significant contribution from Shahid Afridi, the most eccentric entertainer in the game.
He took a catch and three wickets - all bowled - to strangle a Somerset innings that did well to reach 271 in the end, then he came out to bat as if his pants were on fire.
Batting with the urgency of a man who doesn't have time to do his own washing - (he doesn't, by the way, according to his Leicestershire housemate Aftab Habib) - he shocked Somerset and, too briefly, roused a sun-tanned crowd eager for some lighthearted entertainment after the hard work of watching the Australians be brilliant all summer.
Afridi has brightened up the championship and one-day scene immensely since his arrival at Grace Road mid-season as an overseas replacement for the injured Daniel Marsh, and he was not going to change his frenetic game for any piddling full-house final at the home of cricket.
He had scored 95 from 58 balls to account for Lancashire in the semi-final, but here he came and went so quickly that after-lunch stragglers will have missed one of the great mad innings of the season.
Andy Caddick bowled a maiden to Trevor Ward - the highlight of which was Afridi almost running himself out first ball - then the fun started. Afridi swung at Richard Johnson's first ball from the pavilion end, a top-edge somehow looping to safety. That set the tone of his 10-ball stay.
When he got another crack at Johnson, he belted a full-toss into the Tavern crowd, which constituted a more-or-less legitimate shot, then, making room to leg, deliberately sliced him to third man. A similar smear found the point boundary and, programmed for all-out assault, Afridi swung hugely again, this time sending the ball fully 90 yards - towards the clouds.
As Rob Turner circled underneath, his team-mates fell over themselves getting out of his way. When the ball eventually returned, landing like a meteor in Turner's gloves, Afridi was halfway back to the pavilion.
As unusual as it was, the start put Leicestershire in good heart for their pursuit of Somerset's total. They had bowled tightly - none more so than Afridi, whose dipping top-spin accounted for Peter Bowler, Ian Blackwell and Jamie Cox in the space of 18 balls.
He had also played a part in the first dismissal, taking a simple top-edge from Marcus Trescothick at mid-on and, but for the overs restriction, would have happily bowled all afternoon. And the crowd, bar those from the west country, would have happily applauded him all the way.
At the start, though, Trescothick batted as if he was going to make this final his own. Every shot he played came meatily from the centre of the bat, his three boundaries looking mere entrees to the main course. Then he swiped lazily to leg to give his new England team-mate James Ormond the first wicket.
What happened next did did not fit the script Cox had envisaged when he chose to bat on a flat pitch under clear skies. He was not going to make the mistake he did two years ago, when he put Gloucestershire in and lost.
Gloucester, the best chasers in the one-day game, made him pay for what would otherwise have been the conventional choice on winning the toss. Yesterday, the Tasmanian decided to set the pace of the game from the middle.
But, once Trescothick had gone, Cox and Bowler became bogged down. When the fielding restrictions were lifted after 15 overs (a Vince Wells maiden), Somerset were 60 for one - but they had Scott Boswell to thank for 23 of those, including probably the poorest over seen at Lord's since men in top hats used to lob them.
The unfortunate Boswell ought not to be mocked for nine wides in one over (not surprisingly, his last), but he hardly did himself any favours in the field, either. For a number 11 batsman, that qualifies as pretty much a nightmare day. And there was a Johnson waiting to ask him questions if he batted. Enough of poor Boswell.
Somerset got to the century mark in 23 overs, hardly lightning progress. Then, creeping past the halfway stage, they lost Bowler, swiping inelegantly across the line at a googly, Blackwell, who played on, and Cox, trapped on the back foot - all bowled by Afridi.
Fifteen overs from home, Somerset were 168 for four (at a meagre 4.8 an over), with Michael Burns on 19 and Keith Parsons on six.
When Burns holed out to a running catch by Darren Maddy at midwicket off Wells for 21, Somerset were 176 for five and there was every rea son to believe Leicestershire might keep Somerset to a lowish total. But Parsons and Turner were then to have their say.
We had reached that stage of a one-day game where the quality of the strokeplay had become incidental to the task at hand, and Turner and Parsons sacrificed style to good effect. They nurdled and dashed their singles, some times edgily but with sustained energy, and moved past 200 as they set about the final 10 overs.
In the 48th over, Parsons hit Phil DeFreitas for a huge six, disturbing those members in the Allen stand who might have been facing the bar at the time. It was the sort of stroke Afridi or the legendary Albert Trott might have been proud of. There were a couple more to come.
From the second last ball of their innings, Parsons man aged another big six, this time to the Tavern side, bringing up his own 50. For good measure, he put Daffy's final delivery over the ropes as well, and now Somerset had a total to play with.
Leicestershire had not fielded brilliantly, but they'd put the clamps on the Somerset top order long enough to stay in the contest. When they went out to bat and Afridi made his blazing entry and exit, there was every chance of a memorable finish.
Trevor Ward, marginally more circumspect than Afridi, got a good 50, before playing across the line to a Parsons off-cutter, and Somerset hearts rose when Wells nicked Parsons to the keeper on Nelson.
At the halfway stage, Leicestershire had seven wickets in hand and were scoring at 5.2 an over, just below the required rate.
