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AND AFTER ALL THAT _IT'S A TIE!!!! SOWING THE SEED We were typically short for numbers for a match against the Ajax Cricket Club in November 2001. Andrew Coplestone organised for a left-handed mate to fill in. Shane O’Leary was introduced as a lad who happened to be on the Masters Games Organising Committee. He was one of four boys who were filling in for us that day. A chain smoking athlete of the highest Barnawartha calibre, it was no surprise that he was afforded responsibility for overall sports management of the games. After the introductions and another crushing Barnawartha defeat, the question was put to our debutant "What Are The Masters Games?". "A Huge Event for Melbourne. The Olympics for Over 35’s". My mind raced, what an opportunity! "Are they playing cricket?" "Indoor Only" was the reply. Damn, I knew we were crap but it just wasn't right that myself, Tommy, Wrighty & Hedge were yet to plunder an attack from foreign shores. It would just be fantastic for Barnawartha North to be playing in an International. Sure some late in the day heroics from O’Leary and Wrighty had just reduced a likely "B Grade Mercantile" one day outright humiliation to a semi honourable first innings loss, but hell humiliation was our middle name and for fuck's sake, the prospect of an International – even an indoor one was enough to make me salivate. Of course we were qualified to play in an international – as long as we could be sure that the game would be played in the right way. In fact why wouldn’t a visiting team want to play us anyway? "Shano are any International Teams" playing cricket in these Master’s games?" "Dunno Marty, entries haven’t been finalised but there probably will be". "Yeah righto, well just let me know if any come on board okay?". And we just got on with life, introducing more players, losing more "B Grade" games, drinking more beer and eating more rancid snags from our fat stained barbecue. The months went by and footy season was almost over when I bothered Shane one more time for details of overseas registrations. "Yeah there is one mate – it’s from South Africa. Do me a favour will yer, don’t be too pushy about it. I could get into deep shit if I am seen to be handing out e-mail addresses". South Africa? They must be keen. I would have thought that our farm animal adoring friends from across the Tasman would have been more likely – or even the "Barmy Army. South Africa…… that’s miles away. South Africa… why not? If by chance we are getting slaughtered we can always do "A Deal" to leave the final margin less embarrassing. Next step was to delegate ambassador duties. "Tommy Boy time to do your stuff. Here is a contact name and an e-mail address – let’s see if they’re keen". "No worries Marty Boy". And the club Elder, the moustached warrior – blessed with more front than Samantha Fox, went about the business of attracting an unknown bunch from overseas to enjoy our company and unique way of celebrating the great game. Less than 2 days later and an amazingly keen reply from Jon Allcock was on Tommy’s laptop. Within five weeks and about a thousand e-mails we had teed the whole thing up. Not all Barnies were available, but we got hold of a choice bunch – including stars of yesteryear Slim, Nipper, Hedge, Arty and Laz. For Tommy and Jonno it seemed like love at first sentence. Their "Internet Affair" resulted in daily dissertations of mutual love and understanding. They had exactly the same hobbies – beer, tits and cricket – they were destined to be together. It was a beautiful union indeed. For years we had deluded ourselves that we were unique – then all of a sudden, from out of the blue 11 kindred spirits were due to arrive at our airport for the mother of all cricket matches (oh and an indoor cricket tournament as well). Mercantile Executive Committee stalwart Jason Evans just had to get in on the act and half of the umpiring duties were accounted for. It wasn’t too hard to convince fellow exec. Simon Phillips to stand at the other end. Free piss all day was the only inducement needed for our experienced umpiring duo. Other duties were delegated. Pucc did a fantastic job of cocktail barman, covers management, cleaning, sign preparation and courier. Shatcher looked after bus driving, piano accordion and team badge management. Wrighty bought decorations and blew up balloons. Hedge took care of the huge lamb on a spit. Langers did covers management and donated the sound system. Laz set up the connection with Young and Jackson. Gagster provided a bus to pick the visitors up (pun intended). Artie conducted research into the culinary tastes of South Africans, procured two national flags and found the words and music to the national anthems. Slim was fantastic as editor of the program (with assistance from Manners). Tommy just continued being Tommy. Quirky, Nipper and Jars did fuck all – but it was great to have them around anyway. It was unfortunate that Coplestone,
O’Leary, Manners, Dirty and Paddy were all unavailable.
In fact, Paddy seemed to be part of an African cultural exchange
with his visit to Morocco. But what the hell, the show had to
go on. WELCOME TO MELBOURNE Shatcher, Gagster and I were at the airport to perform the obligatory welcome – complete with a slab of icy cold Toohey’s Red. Not surprisingly, we were the only people sucking on coldies in the arrival lounge at 1.30 that morning. We opened our first one’s about half an hour before our guests arrived feeling mighty self-conscious. "Why Toohey’s? We want them to like us for Christ’s sake" I remarked to my wild-headed friend. "Because it was only $25 for 30 cans" was the budget conscious reply. Fair logic I thought – at least they were cold and there was nothing else available, so we sipped on. After 36 hours flying from Durban to Jo’burg to Dubai to Singapore to Oz our weary visitors emerged from customs. A very tall athletic type in green and gold tracksuit emerged from the sliding door alone. "That might be one of them" I exclaimed to my silent companions. "Shit, I hope they aren’t all that big". I had been too gutless to hold up my pathetic cardboard "Madalas" sign. Shatcher and Gagster were too gutless to ask the bloke if he was an indoor cricketer. I walked over and in my broadest Aussie accent enquired "Mate, Are You In the South African Cricket Side?" Yes was the succinct reply. "Well you probably want one of these then" I said as I slid an icy cold one in his hand. How was I to know that Paul Hansmeyer was the only visitor that didn’t like beer. The staunch cider drinker politely knocked it down as well as another couple while we waited for his team-mates. Then they came out in greater numbers. There was the affable Gavin Cross and "Superman" disguised as his alter-ego Mark Ongers. There was the gigantic John De Wet who we all knew would be the fast bowler. "Howzit China" piped up master diplofuckingmat Jon Allcock. "On the Plane, the Boys were discussing whether anyone would be here to meet us. I was sure you would and you haven’t let me down". "Only too happy to please" I said and I meant it. Despite 36 shitty hours as guest of Air Emirates, the grins on their faces were priceless. Little Peter McDonald (who subsequently was determined to prove he wasn’t all that little) had a grin from ear to ear – as did Enrico "Mushy" Grimaldie who I had a lot of trouble understanding. He was speaking his unique version of the queens english to his son (who lives in Melbourne) and despite being in a great deal of pain, was very chirpy. And have I mentioned Jason "Chemo" McGaw or the Captain – Marius Laubsher? 36 tough flying hours left Jason in great need of a hair cut and Sakie was in dire need of thetype of comfort that only a flask of Bundaberg Rum could bring.. Scotty and I knew it would be a fun trip to their hotel. Penny selected a couple for a trip in her car and we left the airport. I am only too happy to admit that I knew absolutely fuck all about South Africa. This was going to be educational as well. So where did we start? Oh yeah, Sakie asked about the price of a decent two bedroom flat in Melbourne. I settled on a figure of $250,000 and asked Shatcher for back up, which was forthcoming. Average wage here is around $40,000 – and then I was dumbfounded by the replies. It turns out that we get 6 rand to the buck. Of course they needed to put it into perspective which Sakie did quite brilliantly. It meant that I could buy a beer in Durban for the equivalent of a dollar. I could stay at a nice hotel for only $40 per night. I could buy a 500 gram steak at a restaurant for only $10. That means I could eat out for only $30 (just kidding). Fair dinkum, the international beer exchange rate should be printed in the dailys. It would give the common man a better understanding of world economics. Interest rates in South Africa are 17%. I had to admit, we are on a good wicket. There was idle talk of table dancing, of marriages long lost or on the rocks, of politics resulting in the lack of opportunity to enjoy the skills of a Rice, a Richards, a Pollock, a Border, a Thompson etc etc. There was a clear mutual love of the amber fluid, the pub culture, of blokehood in general and I was won over. These guys from thousands of miles away are very good blokes and I just know we are going to get on. We laughed at each others’ jokes and I provided a pathetic commentary on the sights and sounds of Melbourne. They received an impromptu peek of Yarraville and saw the Westgate Bridge twice as Scotty took a wrong turn. Jon told us that they had
some surprises for us. I knew that we had some for them. Friday
was going to be a beauty. MATCH EVE If Pucc, Simon and Langers had asked me once, they had asked me a thousand times "What Are They Like". Great Blokes – no doubt. It is going to be a ripper. I had met the last two members of their party, Colin McCabe and Gavin "Woody" Moultrie a couple of times during the week. They arrived a day after the others and got to Oakleigh on board a glued together Ford Cortina from Rent-A-Bomb – complete with the same suspension system successfully utilised by Charlton Heston’s Judah Ben Hur in the famous chariot race. Anyway it was quite a humid evening. Showers were predicted so we went to the trouble of laying out the covers. As it turned out, it was damn lucky that we did. "So what are they like as cricketers?" I had absolutely no idea. I knew only that a couple – including the skipper still played the outdoor game. Spare time was an issue to the other tourists, so they got their weekly fix indoors over a more family friendly hour and a half. In all honesty, I was certain that we were going to be destroyed. They hadn’t come this far for nothing. Of course the expected defeat was of no concern at all. If results were all that mattered, the BNCC would never have been established. The concern was more related to the manner in which the match would be played. At games end would everyone be smiling? Are these guys here on a mission of victory OR are they here to enjoy life on the other side of the planet. The e-mails explicitly pointed to a social motive but the written word and real life do not always match. Pete Howe warned me that these days either turned out very well or in tears. I was sure that all would be well but was aware that it only takes one thing to be taken out of context and you have a problem. I was just hoping that they
weren’t out to prove anything to anyone and as it turned
out I needn’t have worried at all. MATCH DAY – FRIDAY 4 OCTOBER 2002 The rooms were already open at 8.30am when Wrighty and I arrived. The rain had pissed down overnight. God I hope we get.. even just an hour of play. All the blokes are fired up to enjoy the day. Nipper is coming down from Geelong. Tommy is giving up his treasured Cane Toad as a trophy. The Young and Jackson Shmoozing has paid off – although the slabs haven’t arrived yet. Stan from the office has been hard at work learning the South African National Anthem on his squeeze box. Pucc has bought 18 litres of milk, cream and spirits for the cocktails. Please god, don’t stuff this up for everyone! The rain kept falling and the curators entered the pavilion to see what the fuss was about. No-one had told them that a match was to be played that day. A team of them got straight into cleaning up the area and preparing a proper pitch. Decorations were put up and blenders working overtime when my mobile rang. The visitors were waiting at Flinders St. Station. I threw on my black tie and Arthur and I jumped into the car and sped off to pick them up. The singing started outside Y&J’s as soon as I got out of the car "Barnawartha Barnawartha Barnawartha Till We Die, Barnawartha Barnawartha Barnawartha Till We Die". Sweet singing and great lyrics I thought. Half of their number jumped in my car with Artie and the rest of us caught the St.Kilda Road tram to Herring. We strode across the grass to the pavilion where Pucc had his watermelon and vodka delights and "Barnie Ball Biters" on ice and ready to pour. True to their word, our friends from Young and Jackson, Natalie and Samantha Mazer produced the 15 slabs of VB stubbies and the pre match "Warm Up" was on in earnest. Showers fell until 12.00 noon, when we decided to complete the pre match festivities. Short photo session was followed by a dazzling display of National Anthem playing from Stan "The Man" Panic on his trusty piano accordion. Not a dry eye at the ground after that. The visitors found the lyrics to it as difficult as we did, but soldiered on, hand on heart nonetheless. Barnawartha followed with the original tune and lyrics (penned by noted song writers Rogers and Miscamble some years back). Final word came from the visitors in the form of the "War Cry" – put together by Woody after a thousand beers the night before. Given the superb synchronicity of words and movement, one could have been forgiven for thinking they were watching the "Back Street Boys" on MTV. This "War Cry" would be reproduced time and time again and in various states of sobriety over their visit. After all that, Natalie from
Y & J’s produced a high spinning toss. I called correctly
and sent the visitors in. (A pre match agreement had been struck
anyway. I wanted them to bat as there was every chance that we
would have been all out for under 20 and the match would have
been over in under an hour). THE MOTHER OF ALL CRICKET MATCHES Scotty limbered up with a final stubby as Paul and Marius made their way to the wicket. The generosity of the visitors saw the BNCC create a world record 10 men in slips for the first ball. The wicket was very green but we had no idea of what we were up against. All the slips (except Slim) crouched low for the first one. It was just short of a length but bounced sharply. This was the liveliest wicket we had seen in ages. I asked Scotty to pitch ‘em up and he did…. But the ball was getting up anyway. Six dots and a maiden over with all men in slips, my god Barny credibility!!! But there was always the threat of Tommy to bowl the next over. Tommy marked out his run as he had done a thousand times before. Two short paces, three medium paces and a long stride to the wicket. As he was steaming in, the cars parked in Domain Road were bracing themselves. Kids in Melbourne Grammar were being herded into bomb shelters. Drinkers in the "Botanical" were moving to the back bar". No-one need have worried. The great man produced a superb short, lifting delivery which caught the hapless Madala captain by surprise. The resultant inside edge ricocheted onto the stumps and the score was 1/0. The next minute is a blur of backslapping, jumping and unrestrained joy. Mr Barnawartha had done it. We all knew that it would be his last over for the day. He had made his mark with ball. No doubt he would do the same with the willow later on. Not surprisingly, wickets fell in regular intervals as the visitors succumbed to a bowler’s paradise and litres of "Barny Ball Biters". The end came with the score of 96 when Artie trapped Mushy leg before. Highlights of the innings were the performance of Superman (Mark) as runner for Woody, 36 superb runs from Jon Allcock (including a couple of towering 6’s off Rob Puccioni) and a magnificent diving catch from Langers to dismiss big John De Wet off Quirky. Ninety six was going to take some getting, but first it was time to tuck into Curtain’s lamb on the spit. Despite a decision to shorten the luncheon interval, rain arrived almost immediately and washed out the afternoon’s play – for all but one over. Whilst this eventuality was a shame, there was a bright side. A draw retained each side’s unbeaten status in international outdoor matches and totally removed the prospect of competitiveness getting in the way of a good time. Around 4.50pm, umpire Phillips (utilising the Duckworth Lewis system) decreed that there would be one over bowled and Barnawartha required 14 runs to win. Cagey Madala captain "Sakie" Laubsher rightly gave himself the responsibility of leading the visitors’ charge to victory. Laubsher utilised his extensive indoor cricket experience by employing a "Close In Rectangular Formation" which, along with an atrocious call from Nipper, was responsible for the 2nd ball run out of noted sloth, David Wright. Wright was heard to mumble words of encouragement to his opening partner along the lines of "You May As Well Spend The Education Fund You’ve Been Saving For Your Two Kids As I Will Make Sure That They Will Not See Out The Week". Spurred on by those words, and the fact that Wright was taking up a seat next to his first born, Hyland produced a stunning drive for 6 which ultimately gave Barnawartha a chance at victory. With 6 needed off the final
ball (well the 2nd last ball anyway), enterprising skipper Laubsher
continued Five byes from the last ball (with more than a little help from the visitors) and the fans had closure. A TITANIC TIED MATCH The tied result was celebrated as you would expect with players from both sides enjoying the amber. As for speeches, my own was severely impaired by a day on the piss. Jon spoke very warmly and issued an invitation that he will probably live to regret. If things in South Africa can be a little grim now, wait until after Banawartha North has toured!!! The wonderful "Castle
Lager Madala Trophy" now has pride of place at Scott and
Amy’s place. It will progressively tour all Barnawartha
North homes. It is a fantastic memento of a fantastic day when
strangers from other parts of the planet came together to talk
shit, drink piss and enjoy the great game. A WORLD APART I would like to give sincere thanks to the guys who represented South Africa so well both on and off the field. Before October 2002 I had never met a South African outside of a work situation. Now that I have, I understand how important it is that I get my fat arse over to South Africa. Thanks also to everyone involved in making the day possible. I shall not forget it and I look forward to doing it all again on the other side of the world – maybe not in time for the world cup, but certainly in time for the next Aussie tour. Oh, and the Madalas came fourth in their pursuit of gold, but from the background singing blaring through my mobile phone when I rang to check the result of their bronze medal playoff, they didn’t seem too concerned. The Madala’s created a real sense of atmosphere wherever they travelled and inspired others to let their hair down as well. Just ask the blokes who run the Oakleigh Indoor Cricket centre. Congratulations Gentlemen on being great ambassadors and instinctively playing the game in the type of spirit that it should always be played.
Marty Vana – Brother of Club Legend |
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