 |
| Match Details |
| Round |
Round 3 |
| Opposition |
Waverley Wombats |
| Date |
7-Oct-2001 |
| Ground |
Booralee 4 |
| Match Summary |
| Result |
|
| Kurrajong Gypsies 1st innings |
5 wickets, 185 runs
|
| Waverley Wombats 1st innings |
all out, 143 runs
|
| Match Report |
Volume 9, Round 3
Glebe Gypsies v Waverley Wombats 3
By Karl Marx
It was in my first season for the Gypsies, chatting to Engels at first slip, that I hit upon the idea of class struggle as the engine room of revolution. I also hit upon the idea of beard protectors for close-in fielders, however the second idea never caught on. The crap I saw on Sunday at Booralee Park has done little to change my view that the repressed and underprivileged can only throw off the yoke of imperialism through violent protest and/or blind shithouse luck. Both strategies have formed the cornerstone of the Gypsy struggle for a just distribution of wealth, or ‘wickets’ and ‘runs’ as the economic rationalists will have it. While the faceless corporate whores now backing the Gypsies had chosen a politically incorrect 11 for the first game, a fifth column of shadowy apparatchiks now demanded the return of several Party faithful, resulting in the comic selection of Comrade Vanstead - a cheap propaganda stunt to win the workers’ affections given that his corpse had been embalmed in the Lenin Memorial for the past three months. The Utopian promise shown by the club when it first formed as a loose anarchic collective of warring suburb-states (St Vincents, Scum, Ashfield de la Salle Old Boys) has been shattered by its modern manifestation as a petit-bourgeois potpourri of peach-pomade piss-pots of the politburo - run by a real-estate agent no less! This cretinous collective of cowardly kulaks show all the revolutionary fervour of a night out with Steve Liebmann at Bolshoi’s in Miranda.
Like wealth, talent has been unevenly distributed throughout history. The Gypsy openers, Sharp and Fenton-Smith (Minorus) – old party hacks – have little. What they do have is friends high in the ruling elite, which explains why they get in the team. Yet they resisted the repressive chains of the new ball, stealing 28 runs before being arrested. The comrades that followed wielded hammer and sickle with a proletarian panache which, with every successive boundary, spurred their downtrodden countrymen to question the hegemony of the bowler. The capitalist pigs (or wombats), were undermined by a dissident guitarist and an underground journalist. Struggling under the weight of Third World debt, Archer would not be exploited by the short ball, launching Molotov cocktails to all corners of the park in a 37 run protest march. Meanwhile Hamilton (codename ‘Richo’s Bitch’), with Mao’s little red book stuffed down his pants, could not be silenced. After 7 long hours in a Kings Cross Gulag he spoke out for freedom of the press with 23, while our great new leader Chief Secretary of the High Politburo Junior Cutlet Gray - bourgeois Shires sell-out little shit that he actually is – dictated the new world order for 30 glorious rubles. But it was Comrades Bradley and Davies, in a punishing 29 run onslaught, including Bradley’s 23 runs in the last over, that delighted the punters- saluting at 500/1 on the black market (all funds put into Jacko’s teenage ladies political awareness and deportment classes, of course). 6/185 was the total after 40 overs.
The Wombats’ opener, recruited from the Northern Alliance, set about with the gay abandon of a mad Arab, or the mad abandon of a gay Arab – before having his off stump removed through his arse with a bizarre combination of seam bowling and surgery. The Gypsies were hitting stumps, many of the Wombats having lost hands for previous convictions, with only the defiance of the Sheik keeping the Wombles in the contest. Frustrated at not being able to gorge himself on the pastry on offer from the Gypsy bowling, the Sheik finally gave in to his guts and tried to swallow a juicy pie deliciously served and garnished by Wawryzniak. The empire crumbled to Pricilla (5/38) and Hamilton (4/42), and a general strike was called in celebration. The revolution was won by 42 runs.
Afterwards, in the Workers’ Endeavour Hotel, the comrades sang the patriotic Side of Mutton song with little gusto, sounding like twelve Nikki Websters sucking on helium-filled party balloons, until the Skipper mounted the podium to address the workers for his maiden victory speech: “Comrades! Religion is the opiate of the masses. Struggle is the processed meat of the Gypsies. Triumph is the used car of the…who wrote this shit?” Faith in the veteran party careerists, the yes-men through decades of bloodshed, had proved the winning ingredient. But the revolution must be won in the mind, not the pub.
References
Sir Donald Tolstoy Whore and Fleas (Grove Press, Michigan, 1907).
Adolf Bradley I’m Camp (Pez Books, Berlin, 1936).
Arjuna Heidegger Peeing and Mime (Faber & Faber, Leiden, 1922). |
|
|
| Kurrajong Gypsies 1st innings |
| Fenton-Smith, Ben |
11 |
| Sharp, Tom |
15 |
| Archer, Darrell |
37 |
| Gray, James |
30 |
| Hamilton, Cameron |
23 |
| Davies, Andrew |
30* |
| Bradley, Steve |
23* |
|
| Waverley Wombats 1st innings |
| Hamilton, Cameron |
9 overs, 4 for 42 |
| Chung, Ewen |
8 overs, 0 for 34 |
| Bradley, Steve |
8 overs, 5 for 38 |
| Barnett, Steve |
4 overs, 1 for 16 |
| Wawrzyniak, Andrew |
5 overs, 0 for 8 |
|
|
