FALCONS PICK OFF WOBBLY WOMBATS

by Ian Gason

Twelve o’clock, still no sign of FOOD MAN, BEER MAN and REGAN. BEER MAN RAY was first to show, looking quite at home with a slab on his shoulder. The skips decided we’d proceed without the other two for now, and Chuck’s 2nd toss of the day wasn’t as satisfying as his first. Falcons batted.

Sheikh came out and re-marked all the creases, put down more lines than a Motley Crew party, and walked into the first decent sledge for the year: that’s alot of work for one ball! (Chuck). 5 extra gullies in place, I duly sent the first ball in short outside the off, but the chalk-master cross-batted it towards mid-off were 200 tonnes of Dinosaur was a metre short of the offerings.

He survived me, but not Reggie, who had earlier been re-acquainted with his Magic Tin. Sheikh’s aerial adventure came to end when our #3 keeper held a skied Dawson delivery. Next over had the Wombats speculating as to what hides in Reggie’s Magic Tin, when he plucked the first of his screamers for the day. Standing at mid-wicket it looked like he had no chance, but at the last micro-second flung a paw out above his head, and like a frog hunting flies, he had it. Hardys’ #2 for Reggie.

There followed a bit of a partnership, countered by the Shax-anator, who grabbed another 3fa, and heads our bowling table for the year. Reggie screamer #2 was a low-down dive. The Tassie boys combined to give Ax his first stumping, as umpire/batsmen responded to some cheap shot from me at point. Something about batting as well as you umpire, followed by a few charge/slog/pad tricks, and when his pad didn’t save him he was history. Ax’s keeping effort was pretty good, for a bloke that couldn’t see that is. One attempted run out was funnier than anything you’ll see on Japanese TV. With the batsman metres short, the big Tasmanian gloved the ball over the stumps. He swung to break the stumps, and missed. And missed again. 3 times he didn’t connect, and when he finally managed to crash the timber, the batsman was close enough for the 12 Third Umpires in the bench to (incorrectly) give him not out.

Falcons finished on 110 when Jarrad got his third wicket for the day (for his life?) with another c Curly b Dinosaur entry.

FOOD MAN had arrived, claimed he had no idea where Regan was, and that he had no change. The curry was pretty good again, but the nan was the wrong side of average this time. Sometime during this late lunch break, the WMDs turned into WSDs: Wombats of Self Destruction.

That said, Shax’s destruction was not self-inflicted but inflicted by some over-appealing and poor umpiring. The ball flicked his pad, nowhere near his bat, and as always 11 blokes went up in convincing unison. Dave and Jarrad again combined, before Dave’s attempts to up the run-rate cost him. Falcons’ Kapila was the death of us, with 4 overs for 11. Wombats never really threatened. Few if any of us got a start. Chuck plonked a big-un into the weeds, before sending the next ball down Sheikh’s throat. Figuratively, not literally. The ump helped speed things along with another couple of Barry Crockers, and somehow in an uncharacteristic fit of mediocrity, the Wombats folded for their lowest ever total of 72.

The Golden Thong Derby failed to produce any GT nominations. After a leisurely hour by the ground, we meekly headed into the izakaya, rattled off the highlights, club song and the bicycle dive. New Wombat Dave took his highlights with a smile, and showed Jarrad how to knock back a beer. Jarrad will claim his Quote Of The Week has been taken out of context, but stiff bikkies big fella.

Oh well, that’s that for the JGC this year so it seems. All eyes now on the inuagrual HARDYS Tokyo Ashes on the 25th, v giant-killers, British Embassy. Should be a rippa.