WILY WOMBAT SKIP WIELDS WARES IN WET

by Ian Gason

Ichihara proved that they are a worthy opposition, but in the end Wombats stole the honours with a brilliant display from captain Courtney Jones. Basketballing seppos may have 3-peats. Horse racing has the Triple Crown. But only C. Jones will have the Triple Thong.

The news from J-weather.com was always bleak, but there appeared to be a chance of play, so off we went. Gez Brady became the first Wombat to miss the Wombat Wagon and had to fork out Y5500 for the shinkansen as well as Y3000 for the first round of beers. Doctor Bjorn had tasted Wombat life on the Kobe Tour. Ryan Lichenstein was to get his first glimpse of the capabilities of this elite unit. We did not disappoint.

Bobby Phillips’ Tomei Fuji Run record was smashed, and after paying our respects at the Family Mart bog, we rolled up to the ground, whacked the stumps in, performed the usual pre-game stretches and belches, and watched as Zulu drove an impotent lawn mower round in circles.

The Sharks arrived. The ump arrived. The Shink Man arrived. The rain arrived.

The mower shed became our shelter shed, and we discussed the usual shelter shed stuff – footy, girls, girls’ football (ie soccer) and what a poor excuses for a ‘sport’ it was.

There was a brief glimmer of hope and Dr. B and Rhino were presented shirts. And sure as I can pick 1st, 2nd and 4th in a trifecta, the heavens opened up. The skip was unimpressed, leaving the ground cursing, “F**k! This is a shit country! Why do I live here?!!?”

That’s the way it stayed, and with a few of The Sharks nursing cold Coopers, the cricket was called off. Gez paid his late fine beer penalty, and the real contest began.

Wyverns’ Gavin and Pat tried to hide from their team. Out in the middle, a half naked David Davies was frantically sweeping away, as he does every time he stands on a pitch. It looked as if his sweeping and reverse sweeping would be as ineffective as it usually is. Gavin ignored suggestions he swap his beer for a broom. “I think that guy sweeps for both sides!” someone was heard to say.

Homer Simpson would have been proud: it’s not whether you win or lose, it’s how much beer you drink that counts. And throughout the rainy day, 6 cases were counted. Out in the middle the half-naked one was continuing his battle of the broom, and some how convinced 21 sane and rational people that playing a 20-over game of hit and giggle in the mud and the rain was more fun than standing around sinking piss.

Traditionalist have no shortage of reasons to hate that 20-over stuff, chief amongst them being 3 hours isn’t enough time to get really drunk. Well, The Sharks and The Wombats destroyed that myth yesterday. Sharks had shown their colours early, opting for a hired mini-bus and driver, unable to find a designsted driver in their ranks. Respect. Their choice of brew, Coopers. More respect. The wheelie eski (respect) was wheeled over to the boundary of Fuji 1, and our own little Bay 13 was born.

What followed was probably the finest drinking and sledging session ever held in Japanese cricket. Spurred on by Davies David captaining his Drag-ons without a shirt on, both teams were on song. As he waddled in to bowl, 22 inebriated souls chanted “MAN BOOBS! MAN BOOBS!” “Put ya bra back on Davies! The only cup Dragqueens’ll ever get is a B-cup!”

Gavin strode out to the middle, can in hand, plucked off a couple of lame Davies’ pies. Then perhaps distracted by the bowlers’ wobbling mammaries, top-edged a David Davies half-tracker and was caught. Pat G-J went out in fancy dress, some kind of SuperMan cricketing outfit, box on the outside. Sometime after cases 5 and 6 arrived, the Wyverns went out to field. Half way through the innings, the boys in the bay looked pretty much neck and neck in the Beer Stakes.

Chuck said he wouldn’t do it: too much respect for cricket. Mate this is dinky 20s, not cricket, but he wasn’t convinced. There’s no better chance. It’s a nothing game, there’s no-one around. Nah, mate, he kidded himself, I can’t do it……

We pulled the trump card: you’ll be the first ever in Japan. I would! I would….he handed over his beer for safe keeping, made sure the camera was ready, and snuck off to square leg.

The shoes came off first, and the Bay sensed something was up. Then the shirt. He waited til the ball had been bowled, then kicked off his strides and skids as he ran. Japan’s first streak was on!! Grinning ear to ear the naked skip headed for the strikers’ end, high-fived old pal Bollywood. He shwung through the mid-wicket region as the crowd applauded his efforts. Chuck’s effort ended as he directed his dong at the appreciative Bay 13 drinkers, who appropriately bowed, before picking up his clothes at the boundary.

To cut a short story long, no-ones knows what happened in the 20-dinky match. Ichihara knew they had been beaten and headed off to Chiba, but with heads held high.

With Reggie still asleep as he had been all day, Wombats were last to leave, despite the game being called off by 12. Fueled further by McChucks, we drove back to Tokyo. Zulu got all natsukashii and jumped into the bushes. The eski got destroyed. Jarrad got rowdy. Dr B got christened “The Love Machine.” Roy said next to nothing all trip except “Where’s that NIKKA??”

And the nice man at Nippon Rent-a-car just bowed and said “o-tsukaresama desu!”