Wombats Destroyed By Bed-Wetters

Game Date: 17/07/2002

Like the Phoenix rising from the ashes, the Wombats clawed their way out of the pit of volleyball abomination tonight, but unfortunately flew straight into the ceiling fan of shameful defeat yet again. The opposition were the Bed Wetters, the venue was court 3, and the umpire was some dude.

In stark contrast to the previous week's monster turnout, tonight the Wombats were blessed with only 6 players, With Damo, Craigie and Kempy all electing to take the week off. That left Bayls, Murgs, Totti, PJ, Kel and Rick to fight it out on the bloodied battlefield that was to become of Court 3. For the fashion fans, Kel was again wearing her lucky red pants, leading to speculation that the old-new pants seen in previous weeks were just a once-off.

Again the pre-game warmup was a spirited affair. For the first time in memory, Bayls was actually there to witness it, and to take part in the usual rigorous pre-match drills. These drills were made all the more easy by the fact that the court 3 basketball ring is about 1 foot lower than that on the Wombats' home ground of court 1, allowing all manner of slam dunking.

All too soon though, the fun part of the night was over, and it was time to get down to the dreariness of the actual game.

It must be said at the outset that the Bed Wetters are complete cheats. This is not to say that they're cheats in the same was as Dirty Sanchez, who only bends the rules through sheer incompetence, or a substantial payment of cash and/or illicit drugs. The Wetters simply cheat on every point. From their double-hitting foot-fault combo serving, to their half-volley scooping carrying spikes, every point is shrouded in the acrid stench of deception.

So, having won the toss with their double headed coin, the Wetters elected to serve, and thus the contest was underway. If there was one thing that the Wetters were unable to control, it was the Wombats' complete domination of the net. The court was like Germany in the 1970s, with the net bisecting it, and separating the good guys from the bad guys. This demarcation was aggressively enforced by the Wombats' border patrol, consisting chiefly of Kel, PJ and Murgs. Kel in particular was on fire. Time and time again the 7 foot giants of the Wetters would attempt to blast a spike into Wombats territory, and time and time again it would merely cannon into Kel's giant fist, and back down their throats. It was a painful lesson in humiliation for the Wetters.

Kel

So, with the Wetters having been demoralised by the giant fist of Kel, the Wombats began to fire up. PJ dabbed the clutch, and slickly shifted into 3rd gear, charging up his arm-cannons for a succession of belting spikes straight into Bed Wetter land. He was ably backed up by Murgs, lurking in the background ready to pounce on anything the came his way with his smaller calibre, and yet decisively effective spiking artillery. Bayls and Rick assisted in the blocking department, with Rick pulling off one of the blocks of the century. Initially positioned at the rear of the battle like any good General, it was as if something suddenly snapped in Rick's mind. Glassy-eyed with fury and without any warning, Rick suddenly charged from the back court towards the net and launched his beefy frame high into the air, arms cocked back with malicious intent. The rest of the Wombats stood by, mouths agape, wondering what it was all about. The answer was soon evident, as Rick's cerebral tactical mainframe had been silently analysing every play to this point, and had calculated that the next shot had a 94.73% probability that it would come within a 5 degree arc of Rick's airborne fist. According to the meticulously preprogrammed data, these odds were good enough. Very good in fact, as Rick, still flying through the air, impacted against the hapless volleyball with explosive force, sending it down the throat of a foolish Bed Wetter, out his arse, and into the floor. Such was the force of this sensational block, the ball then ricochet up into the roof dislodging a few ceiling tiles, before coming to rest on the floor again, scorched, battered, and someone browner than it was before the game.

This devastation merely prompted the Wetters to crank up the cheating. On one memorable occasion, a Wombats spike slapped with a sharp crack into the futile block of one of the Wetters, then into the back wall. True to form, the Wetters claimed that nobody had touched it, a claim which was met with the derisive laughter from the Wombats. The Wetters player in question held up both hands with closed fists, and claimed that he didn't have any fingers, and thus couldn't have touched the ball. On another occasion, a Wombats spike was CLEARLY some 3 feet inside the court, and yet the umpire overruled Bayls' myopic tantrum, and ruled the ball out.

"YOU CANNOT BE SERIOUS!"

The rest of the encounter can be summarised in familiar form:

Set 1: The Wombats lost.
Set 2: The Wombats lost.
Set 3: The Wombats lost.
Set 4: The Wombats lost.

Still, there were positives to emerge from the drubbing. Chief among them was the absence of spastic serving, with only 1 blemish on an otherwise spotless record. The other was the sensational blocking. When team captain Damo was contacted to comment on the results, he had this to say: "Yeah, nah, we know we're a bit out of form at the moment, but we'll come back. We've had a tough draw so far, and it's a credit to the boys that we've played as hard as we have. We'll take a lot away from tonight, and rebuild for next week. We're just taking it one game at a time. We're happy to get the one point. It's a team building experience. It's just a credit to the boys that we done so well."