Wombats Deconstruct Redbacks

Game Date: 04/09/2002

Well, like the phoenix rising from the ashes, the Wombats' season was resurrected tonight with a massive resurgence of form. The hapless opponents were the Redbacks, a sad collection of mullet-headed, VB swilling losers who have no business playing the noble game of volleyball. For the Wombats, inspirational team captain Damo was sidelined with the sniffles, so it was with great anticipation that Shaka Zulu made his 3rd return from retirement for the season. The other players taking part in the 7:00 fixture were Bayls, Craigie, PJ, Kel, Mugs and master tactician Ric. Ric was eager to try out his form after dropping the "k" from his nickname, hoping it would bring a harder, more edgy vibe to his oncourt persona. The small crowd were also delighted to see that Kell was once again dressed in her lucky red volleyball pants - a potent omen that great things were on the cards for the Wombats tonight.

The pre-game warmup was again the highlight of the evening, with hilarious shenanigans being the order of the day, but as always happens, the umpire enevitably tweetled on his little panpipes to signify that the game was underway.

The Wombats were obviously fired up from the previous week's dismal loss, and shot out of the blocks with all guns blazing. Like a well oiled stripper, the wombats slid around the court with mesaured precision. The team was like an angsty mailman, ringing the doorbell of derision chez Redbacks, and delivering a payload of humiliation to these feral quimbags. The scoreboard was ticking over as fast as honorary Wombat and scorer for night Nicole's little hands could fly. Game 1 was a crushing victory to the 'Bats.

The second set saw the Wombats ease off the destruction pedal slightly, and for good reason. The Redbacks team chieftan Mini-Merv was spluttering and wailing to his clueless paeons about the dismal state of their gameplay, tears streaming down his ruddy cheeks and into little puddles on the court. "Youse guys, c'mooon! That's faaarked!" he barked, like a mongoloid Lleyton Hewitt to his charges. The Wombats were acutely aware that they'd be playing on that side of the court shortly, and to avoid playing in sea of bitter Mini-Merv tears, they toned down the destruction-o-meter from 11 to 9. The furious outburst from Mini-Merv also served another purpose - not to raise the level of his team's form, but the myopic umpire was clearly moved, and started ruling the game "Sanchez Style". Wombats spikes were riccocheting off Redback paws with rifle-like cracks, and then thudding into tjhe back wall on the full, and this dope was calling them out. Redback players were juggling digs and playing 7 or 8 hits to get them back, and Ray Charles was calling play on, gently swaying from side to side with with a permanent toothy grin and fixed gaze off somewhere in the middle distance. It was good umpiring from this highly trained professional. And by "good" I mean "bad" and by "professional", I mean "wanker". Second game to the Redbacks.

Mini-Merv rallied the team

The next break saw some soul searching by the Wombats unit. They were no stranger to corrupt umpiring, so this was nothing new and it was all taken in their stride. Knowing that the next game was cruical, the team regrouped and discussed a game plan. It was decided that the Wombats would try to hit the ball no more than 3 times on their side of the court, and on the third hit, try to make it hit the floor in the Redback's court. It was simple, and it was brilliant. With this in mind, game 3 was underway.

To put it mildly, game 3 was an embarrassment for both the Redbacks and the umpire. PJ had used the long break to clean out the multi-barrelled howitzers he totes around on his arms and was using them to deadly effect. Ably supported by a Ric in the fireball department, they were launching meteors all over the court. Assissted by the likes of Bayls, Kempy and Zulu, who were coughing up magnificently positioned sets, it was destructive poetry in motion. Kel was, as usual, the mobile deflection shield at the net, embarrassing the litter of bogans shamelessly. Time and time again, they'd cock back the arm and pound a missile in the Wombats' direction, and inevitably, Kel would swoop like a ravenous hawk towards a baby kitten and jam the volleyball back down their gaping throats. Craigie meanwhile was buzzing like an angry gnat, diving for impossible balls with his boot, and spiking with ridiculous precision far from the back court. To describe the umpire's ineptitude in detail would be boring repetition - suffice to say that it was hopeless, and weighted ridiculously in the Redbacks' favour. In the end, it mattered little though, and the Wombats took a 2-1 lead going into the 4th game.

The 4th and final game of the night was a draw, the only highlight of which was a ridiculous serving spree by the Redbacks mullet-man which saw 6 or 7 straight serves bisecting the laughing Wombats.

The Redbacks were in disarray

Overall, a return to winning from for the Wombats. After the match, team capatin Damo was asked for his view on this stunning victory:

"How should I know. I wasn't even there. Piss off, I'm sick"

Stirring words. Ones that will hopefully inspire the Wombats to carry this good form into the next round of games, and form a solid platform for a stunning relaunch into the stellar, dizzying heights of A-grade Blackwood Volleyball finals.