Wombats Robbed By Dirty Sanchez

Game Date: 26/06/2002

Well, like baby Superman in a blender, the Wombats were simply annihilated tonight. The opposition were the Cheezles, and like those fat-laden ring-pieces of cheesey lard, the game left a nasty and unpleasant taste in the mouth.

The dedicated line-up was the same as last week, with Murgs, Craigie, PJ & Kell, Totti, Bayls and Rick all making it out for the late night fixture. Once again, the umpire was Dirty Sanchez, but this time the crowd was to see a different side to this usually affable character. A darker, more malevolent shade was about to tinge the Sanchez's already well-tanned complexion, as the acrid veil of conspiracy descended on the hallowed halls of the Supreme Court - Blackwood.

The match was held on the Wombats home turf - Court 1. The pre-game warmup was promising enough, with a casual circle forming, while players chatted about their exciting days at work. One such lively exchange proceeded thus:

Craigie: "Hey Totti"
Totti: "Hi"
Rick: "Tonight I reckon we should have 3 at the front and 3 at the back..."
Totti: "Been up to much?"
Craigie: "Nah"
Rick: "...the server should stand at the back and hit the ball over the net to start each point..."
Totti: "How's the house?"
Craigie: "Good"
Bayls: "Now's Nicole?"
Totti: "Heh heh, yeah..."
Craigie: "She's good"
Rick: "...we should stop the ball landing on our side of the court by hitting it with our hands..."
Murgs: "Yeah"
Rick: "We should use the 3"
Murgs: "Yeah"
Bayls: "Yeah let's use our clenched fists to intercept the ball before it hits the court. Great idea!"
PJ: "Sheezuz! My BALLS!"
(at this point an errant volleyball had savagely struck PJ square on the dong)
Kel: "NOOOO!"
Craigie: "Shit"
Murgs: "Not good"
Totti: "Gotta hurt"
Zulu: "Rogor!"
Bayls: "Is Zulu even here?"
Rick: "...and when we get the serve back, we should rotate to the bench..."
Totti: "Zulu's at home.. you imagined that"
Bayls: "Rogor"
Murgs: "Yeah"
Rick: "...over the fence is six and out..."

Anyway, with Kel lovingly massaging PJ's throbbing bell-end, Bayls hammered home a few thunderous slam-dunks to the applause of the small crowd. Then, Dirty Sanchez started hooting with venemous intent into his whistle, to send the fiasco into motion.

The first game, thanks to Rick's brilliant strategies, consisted of the Wombats striking the ball with clenched fists over the net, while the Cheezles did the same. Occasionally the ball would land on either side of the court, and the guy on the bench wrote something and flipped over some plastic numbers. It was sheer poetry. That is, until Sanchez, his designer trakkies bursting with ill-gotten Colons, started tootling away with his little whistle in a tawdry display of favouritism.

The Womats were called for everything. Following each crisp, clean thud, Sanchez honked his little plastic troublemaker - "Douba Hit!". After every punishing back-court smash - pleeeeebt, "You toucha net!". After every hammered spike - bleeeb, "Ball hita roof!". It was shameless, sickening and a blight on the noble sport of volleyball, made all the more repulsive by the fact that the Cheezles were getting away with murder on the other side of the net. They were double hitting, foot faulting, hanging off the net, scooping half volleys and at one stage one guy caught the ball, stuffed it up his shirt, chatted for a while, some other guy walked to the kiosk to get a giant snake, came back, the original guy pulled the ball out, grabbed onto the net while the snake guy gave him a boost up, and threw the ball out the back of the court into the indoor roller hockey sin bin. wheeeeep "Ball wa eein!".

And thus the disgrace progressed. The Cheezles bumbling their way to a cheap, ill-deserved victory. The loser, meanwhile was not the valiant Wombats quad, but instead the formerly unspoiled game of volleyball, tragically sullied by the shameless and unforgivable bias of one Dirty, Dirty Sanchez.