Tuesday 5pm arrives..............
Conversation goes something like this:
"G'day mate........you know how you ring me on Mondays for a favour, well I'm ringing you on a Tuesday for a favour"
Luke proceeded to explain to mate Dave about what he was about to get himself in for. Dave, true to the word of Luke, was to rock up in footy gear. I could almost hear Dave say "ya f...en what?" The conversation from Luke's side was littered throughout with the "f" word ("fine"). "So bring a lot of gold coins with you" Luke ended up.
Thanks to Burgo and Shelts, who piked it on the proviso it was "too late", "past my bedtime", "I have to wash my hair", "I have to go to the gym", "it's too far", "it's too dark" we required this rushed version of recruiting. No time for pre-trades, no time for sussing out form, we just had to go on a hunch. Therefore, myself and Dave were pulled off the interchange bench at the last minute. Reading between the lines, I know that Burgo and Shelts were on a promise (perhaps with each other) and therefore couldn't pull themselves away for a game of cricket and a beer with their mates. Well, at least we know where we stand I spose. Consider yourself officially shunned.
We arrived at the game at 9.25. Dave Bradley looking resplendant in his footy shorts and footy socks, "book'im" Danno trying to hide the fact that he was part of the team by wearing tracky pants over the top of his footy shorts and Gra Gra, also hiding his "lime green" socks by a set of dickhead homeboy tracky pants. Scott "I've got no room for a hector in there" Amos, shoe-horned and lube jobbed into his bright yellow footy shorts and beautifully finished by a complimenting pair of mauve footy socks set the trend for the night. Luke "Whoa, heave-ho" Hickey wearing his Freo Shockers (over the top of his Hawthorn ones) socks and Tugger shorts looked primed for a fine free one. Peter "My boy lollipop" Bolton and Murray "Flouro boy" Glanville arrived bagging everyone else, until we saw what they had to offer - not much.
Pete, showing all the talent blessed in his terrible Adelaidian dress sense wore white shorts from a previous Hectorville era and Ainslie tri-hard (St Kilda coloured) socks. Muz went for the black shorts and some poxy dark coloured socks that escaped my attention cos he kept poking his arse in my direction whilst fielding, so I just didn't look anymore.
Yep, there were seven of us all ready to go..............and then Davo rolls up, no shirt, no shorts but he did have footy socks on.
Comments of the night goes to Davo. Conversation between myself and he went something like this:
Dave "Have you got a shirt for me?" Scott "Na mate, I've given all the spares away, (pregnant pause) anyway you should have one at your place" Dave "Na, Jase has been wearing it" Scott "Yeeeeeeeeh" thinking that any second now the penny will drop. Dave "Oh, I thought it'd been doing the rounds". Scott "So you mean you haven't got Jase's. Jase played last week and wore it, so I haven't seen it". Dave "Oh, ok, so what do I do" Scott (puzzled) "Don't worry about it, just get on court, we'll fine you afterward".
With intellectual giants like us playing, look out world, the Partridge Family are on their way.
Anyway, to the minor activity for the night, the game. Gra Gra (acting captain) in his inevitable style asked the opposition if they understood the relative futility of coin tossing, as it was an absurd task risking all life and limb on a piece of cheap taudry metal, something that could decide the difference between a champion team and a team of champions, it being an exercise in chance, with a high probability that the coin would be blown off course by the air conditioning and the off chance that the coin may in fact land on it's edge, and then not being prepared to take the chance himself of re-tossing the coin, that the coin had passed through the hands of a thousand and one men and that all sorts of diseases could be caught from such a device ..................so we fielded with no coin toss occurring at all.
The first four overs were pretty impressive as far as the opposition were concerned, they got away to a fair start with 25 after 4 overs (remember that figure, 25!). Dave Bradley had already shown his flair in the field, fumbling, or in his words "getting a few touches early". Luke "Stumpy" Hickey looked the part behind the stumps, only realising afterward that you can actually take the ball being bowled before it hits the back net. Mr Hickey also bowled, in his first over, outswinging tripe. Gra Gra was having a night off, the obvious burden of carrying this motley crue weighing heavily on his throwing shoulder and consequently missed a couple of close attempts at run outs. Schlang was suffering from "mytesticlesareinmythroat-itis" and his fielding lacked the required balls.
After 8 overs, the opposition had managed a consistent 48 with nothing special happening except Dave Lang's deflections from cannon's hit straight at him, back to the bowler's for run out opportunities. Dave wore a couple for the team and had he had the added protection of a hawiian shirt, he wouldn't have felt them at all. Muz as per usual played like a man possessed running down anything and hurling lightningbolts at the stumps. Luke and myself kept well away from catching anything thrown by the human god of rumpy pumpy.........er, I mean lightning.
12 overs passed without the captain being phased, although the incremental advancement of about another 25, skipped away and they raced to 81 and a total of about 120 beckoned.
And, had it not been for a magnificent overs by Muz and D Lang, that might have been the case. After 15 overs they were on about 85 with one over to come. Mine.
"Cha-ching" was the early call from behind the stumps from Sticks and "cha-ching" I did. Three wides, 8 hail mary's, 10 calls of "f...", 11 deliveries, 27 cries of "cha-ching" and about 33 rapid firing open and shuts of the sphincter later, the over was over. Thank god. The equivalent of the putting yips had got to me, this awful, foul smelling disease that had captured the Hickey's and the Burgesses of our kind had got me. I can sympathise with you guys. Tomorrow I have my first bout of therapy but hope to be fit for next weeks postponed Melbourne Cup edition of the Partridge Family game (for those who haven't heard it's a Wednesday game!).
The Lang and Schlang combo (sounds like a poxy American 60's TV show) entered the court. I was busy checking out what was going on regarding the table to figure out why the general had put these two together, especially seeing he was doing overtime by coaching them toward a skin. This is where it gets good. 2 balls to go, and Dave hits the ball side net for two. The score is now 30 and Dave starts walking off. "Nothing Stupid" yells out the general and no sooner had Pete swung and missed the last ball, then it cannoned into the middle and off stumps. We were elated, Gra Gra was not. The skin was to carry over and the unlikely pairing of Muz and Danno were to either win or lose 2 skins. The pressure was on.
Muz, after berating me for telling him to hit the ball with the face of the bat, proceeded first ball to "sky" a top edge to the keeper, his look of disgust said it all. Several run outs, and a close shave where Danno almost lost his shorts up his clacker resulted in team total of 49, ie, we won 2 skins by 1 run.
Braddles and Sticksy managed run outs a plenty and even threats of "Braddles, if you don't run him out, which mind you is a team rule, we'll make you play another 9.30 game for us" didn't work. The opposition, paid off by Sticks, ran Braddles out more times than our favourite mate Inzamam Ul-Haq has been run out (and blamed his team mate for turning a sharp 2 into a difficult 1). Sticks managed 30 of the team partnership of 15. Hmmm, some technical problems there me thinks.
Gra Gra "Attila" McLaughlan and Scott "I choose my clothes myself" Amos strode to the crease confident of a win, despite requiring about 30 odd. 74 runs later, a win was easily secured, the opposition disappointed that they firstly lost to a bunch of duds like us, and secondly that we didn't have the music again. Two teams in two weeks have asked where the music was. My evil mind is thinking that next Wednesday, with new teams and different comps playing, they too can listen to THE band of the 70's (no, not the Beatles, Rolling Stones), the Partridge Family by bringing out the jukebox.
Luke commented to Dave Bradley, "this is where we all go upstairs and everyone gets pissed courtesy of me". But alas poor Luke, not much beer was to have passed thou lips. David Boon would shake his head in silence at the poor form of the guys.
A win's a win and we now should move to about 5th depending on other results.
Footnote : For all those who thought they were co-ordinatedly challenged, or cricketing inept, this raised the hopes of all you people out there. We saw a team named "501's" last night. The reason they were named 501's was because in their first game, they got beaten by 501. 490 to -11. And yep, they have no idea. At the time we left last night, they were being beaten -6 to 147 after about 13 overs. Bring them on. Only cos I wanna see Muz and Pete face them and get out - after sprouting complete crap about how much they'd make against them last night.
Till next week.