Wombats DESTROY Redbacks

Game Date: 06/11/2002

Well, there's only one single word to describe the night's volleyballing action tonight. That word is "complete and utter devastation".

From the outset, it was clearly going to me a magical outing for the wombats, as evidenced by the following telling portents:

• Bayls was there well before the start of the game.
• Damo arrived reasonably sober.
• Kel left the lucky red volleyball pants at home.
• Bayls wasn't wearing his all-black Karate Kid Bad Guy outfit.

The pre-game warm-up consisted of the 'Bats forming the circle and then trying to spike the ball into each others nuts. That is to say, everyone except Kel, as no Wombat is foolish enough to try and spike anything past the giant nut-buster hanging off the end of her right arm. This rousing workout was then followed by a session under the hoop, and then it was gametime!

The hapless opposition were the Redbacks, led as always by mini-Merv. The Wombats were headed by inspiration team captain Damo, who was shining radiantly in a rather dapper new polo shirt. With a cracking slap, Damo sent the ball into motion and the game was underway. And when I say "game", I mean "massacre". The Redbacks were clearly under siege, and like Merv against a fired up Windies team, were in grave danger of actual bodily harm.

Game 1 was a clinically executed annihilation of the Redbacks, who floundered under the torrential onslaught of devastating spikes from the giant atomic cannon of PJ, the bazooka of Rick, the unguided exorcet missile of Damo, and the 17th century musket of Bayls. This aggressive offensive was ably backed up by the ubiquitous Kel, jamming spikes back down throats and out of arses on the other side of the net; the ever casual Totti, prancing around the court back slapping shots over the net while barely raising a sweat; Kempy, the team's ever reliable anchor, steadfastly anchoring the team, like a giant rock-solid anchor; and Rick, master tactician, calling the shots.

Game 2 was the same, except for some reason, the teams were on opposite sides of the court, a trend which continued for the remainder of the night after each game.

Game 3 was another dose of devastation for the Redbacks, injected into their soft, flabby buttock by the all conquering 'Bats.

Game 4 followed game 3, and was another masterful display of volleballing arrogance by the Wombats. Like Rocky Balboa, before he got old, fat and stupid, the Wombats were clearly ripped, buff and hungry for victory, and tonight it was all-you-can-eat.

In the end, it was a 4-0 whitewash, the useless Redbacks lucky to escape with their lives and the Wombats lucky to avoid the legions of adoring fans flocking towards them after the game. Damo, having let himself go somewhat after his recent nuptials, wasn't fast enough to escape the waiting press. After the match, he offered this to the eagerly awaiting ears:

"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."

Rousing words, no doubt. Will they be enough to lift the Wombats to another stunning premiership. With a 20-45 win/loss record - fat farking chance, but that's what they said about the Adelaide Crows winning 3 premierships back to back, and about Anne Frank's dreams of a long and carefree life. Dreams do come true, and all it will take is some self-belief and some dedication, and a 10-0 winning margin in the 3 remaining games.

As a sad epitaph to the glorious victory, the Wombats players received the sad news that Kempy was retiring as a regular of the Wombats outfit, moving instead to some quiet rural backlot. His sharp reflexes and blistering court speed will be sadly missed.