Championship Dash

by Michael Panckridge

  About the Book

  The Kangaroo Flat Galahs are preparing for their annual match against the Edenhope Eagles. The stakes are high with the winner qualifying for the State T20 Championships in Perth. They’ll also receive tickets to the Perth Scorchers versus Melbourne Renegades double-header!

  The Galahs haven’t won a game in 30 years, but that was before they had the mysterious and brilliant Allunga on their team. Can they finally turn the tables?

  CONTENTS

  COVER

  ABOUT THE BOOK

  TITLE PAGE

  CHAPTER 1: THE NEW ARRIVAL

  CHAPTER 2: MORNING PRACTICE

  CHAPTER 3: ALLUNGA DRAWS LINES

  CHAPTER 4: FARMER MCKENZIE DELIVERS A SURPRISE

  CHAPTER 5: GAME ON

  CHAPTER 6: SOME VISITORS ARRIVE

  CHAPTER 7: EMMI’S FINAL ACT

  CHAPTER 8: THE STOWAWAY PASSENGER

  CHAPTER 9: FARMER MCKENZIE GETS A PHONE CALL

  CHAPTER 10: PICKLES HAS AN IDEA

  CHAPTER 11: THE TALENT FROM KANGAROO FLAT

  CHAPTER 12: THE SIGNATURE

  CHAPTER 13: THE TRUTH COMES OUT

  CHAPTER 14: THE GRAND FINAL

  COPYRIGHT NOTICE

  Thursday afternoon

  WOOF!

  Fatty Bumbar, the coach’s loyal but extremely lazy bull-mastiff, slowly lifted his head and gazed at the ball that had come to a stop just a few metres from his nose.

  It was training night in a small, remote town in outback Western Australia called Kangaroo Flat. Nine children, one coach and Fatty Bumbar were gathered at the town’s reserve for their weekly training session.

  For more years than most townsfolk could remember, Kangaroo Flat had entered a team in the Zone Championships and this year would be no exception. The trouble was, their Zone Championship game was always against their nearest rival, the highly competitive and talented Edenhope Eagles.

  Kangaroo Flat was 290 kilometres northeast of Perth. Edenhope, on the other hand, was the largest town in the region. It had a small airport and was situated on the main highway out of Perth.

  Unlike Kangaroo Flat, which only had one cricket team, the Eagles coaches were able to select the best players from eight clubs that played in the Edenhope Cricket League to form a team for the annual match.

  Years and years ago, the teams played 90-over matches; long games that sometimes finished in near darkness. Then it was the classic 50-over one-dayers. But more recently, the games were 20-over matches. However, no matter what format they were playing, the Kangaroo Flat Galahs couldn’t topple the Eagles. The losing streak had extended to over 30 years.

  ‘Come on, Fatty Bumbar, you’ve got this,’ Camden called. He was a small, stocky boy with brown curly hair and a serious expression.

  ‘No, he doesn’t,’ Phoebe sighed, trotting off to get the ball. She was tall and athletic with long blonde hair. She looked a couple of years older than the others and was one of the few kids in Kangaroo Flat who played sport all year – cricket in summer, football and soccer in winter and athletics in the spring. She was the Galahs best bowler, which wasn’t really saying much.

  ‘What we need is a big net,’ Camden said. ‘Then we wouldn’t have to waste so much time.’

  ‘What we need is a wicketkeeper who can stop the ball,’ Emmi snapped.

  Camden looked over in Emmi’s direction. Her blonde hair hung in tight curls down to her shoulders and her angry face looked pinched and drawn. She was always cross, shouting at people for no good reason. Camden thought it might have something to do with Emmi having to fight for attention at home. She had two older brothers who were very boisterous.

  ‘At least he hasn’t slimed it,’ Phoebe said, jogging back to her bowling mark. ‘Remember last year? Or was it the year before? Anyway, the only time Fatty Bumbar actually caught the ball in his mouth, it came back covered in thick, gooey dog slobber and smelling of dead rabbit. It was gross.’

  ‘Would have got some good swing though, yeah, Phoebe?’ Bojing suggested. He was a tall, thin boy with slicked back hair.

  ‘Fatty Bumbar is so cute. Isn’t he, Farmer McKenzie?’ Joy grinned.

  Their coach, Farmer McKenzie, chuckled. ‘Reckon he’s a bit overweight more like.’

  ‘Geez, can we get on with the game?’ Emmi asked, rolling her eyes.

  Camden tapped his bat loudly against the cement pitch and watched Phoebe jog in to bowl.

  The ball pitched outside off stump and again Camden missed it, though this time Joy, the team’s wicketkeeper and youngest member, managed to get a hand to the ball. Being the youngest on the team, she sometimes found it hard to keep up with the others.

  ‘Ow,’ she cried, staring at her fingers.

  ‘Are you sure there are no gloves in that kit?’ Farmer McKenzie asked Camden.

  ‘Unless you count the gloves that Fatty Bumbar mauled, then nope.’

  ‘Hang on.’ Farmer McKenzie hobbled over to his ute and returned with a pair of gloves.

  ‘But they’re gardening gloves,’ Bojing laughed.

  ‘Great bloomin’ big gardening gloves,’ Charlie agreed. He was only slightly taller than Joy and was always joking about something. He had a permanent smile etched onto his freckled face.

  ‘But I don’t want to wear gardening gloves,’ moaned Joy. ‘I want to wear real wicketkeeping gloves like in the Big Bash.’

  ‘Stop complaining, Joy, or you’ll get dumped from the team,’ Emmi shouted sharply.

  ‘Which would leave us, let’s see, with a team of exactly eight,’ Barnsey muttered, counting on his fingers. He was a big, strong boy with broad shoulders.

  Joy’s bottom lip quivered as she drew the gloves over her fingers.

  ‘You know I don’t mean it, Joy,’ Emmi groaned, walking towards her.

  ‘Can we just play?’ Camden asked. It was his turn to bat and Farmer McKenzie only allowed ten minutes, unless you were caught or bowled first. They were the only two ways a batter could be given out when Farmer McKenzie was in charge. In fact, they were the only ways he knew how a batter could be given out. Camden had tried to explain run-outs, stumpings and LBW, but their coach had dismissed him with a wave of his hand, saying that they were too complicated. Camden didn’t like to argue with him.

  ‘Best idea since sliced bread,’ the coach mumbled, returning to his spot.

  Once more Camden missed the ball. This time, Phoebe pitched it on line. It clattered into the three sticks that were replacing the missing stumps. Fatty Bumbar, of course, was prime suspect for their disappearance.

  ‘I think you’re improving,’ Phoebe said as Camden trudged past her.

  ‘You reckon?’ Emmi queried, eyebrows raised.

  ‘You’re no better,’ Phoebe snapped.

  ‘Never said I was,’ Emmi fired back. ‘All I’m saying is that I don’t think Camden’s getting any better with his batting. He might know all the fielding positions and everything about cricket and the Perth Scorchers –’

  ‘And the Melbourne Renegades,’ Joy added, momentarily forgetting her stinging fingers. ‘He knows about them too.’

  ‘Whatever. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that we’re going to get smashed by the Eagles again, just like last year and the year before that and probably every year going back to the dinosaurs.’

  ‘Um, Emmi, they didn’t play cricket when there were dinosaurs,’ Pickles commented.

  Everyone froze, including Farmer McKenzie. They’d been training once a week for the last five weeks and in all that time Pickles had never spoken a word. Not one. And now this?

  ‘Pickles,’ Emmi gasped, rushing over to him.

  ‘What?’ Pickles replied, retreating quickly, clutching at his glasses with one hand
while flicking away a mop of dark brown curls from his eyes with his other.

  ‘Never mind,’ Emmi said, sitting down suddenly. ‘I’m knackered.’

  ‘You’ve done nothing but stand there all arvo,’ Phoebe said. ‘Why don’t you come and have a bowl? Maybe then you’ll know what being knackered actually feels like.’

  ‘Let’s all go and sit in the shade, have a drink and calm our nerves, shall we?’ Farmer McKenzie suggested.

  ‘Yes, that’ll make us a much better team,’ Emmi said sarcastically.

  ‘Do you think they’d let dogs play?’ Joy asked, looking closely at her left hand.

  ‘Joy, you can’t be serious,’ Krisso, laughed. Krisso was lean and strong and loved his cricket.

  Fatty Bumbar, seeing everyone heading for the shade of the enormous gum tree in front of the toilet block, slowly made his way across the oval to his own shady spot on the other side of the ground.

  Camden plonked himself down under the gum tree and looked around. Kangaroo Flat Reserve was a huge, oval-shaped area of dirt and dust. There were green patches, but these were usually thistles and weeds, especially at this time of year.

  This was his third year playing for the Kangaroo Flat cricket team. Only Phoebe had played longer.

  ‘Now, I asked Camden here to come up with a bit of a plan for the big game,’ Farmer McKenzie said.

  Camden reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.

  ‘How hard can it be?’ Emmi asked. ‘Phoebe opens the bowling, Bojing and I open the batting, Joy keeps. What else is there?’

  ‘Emmi, can you just shut your gob for half a second and let Camden talk?’ Phoebe snapped. She was the only one not afraid to stand up to Emmi.

  Camden continued hesitantly. ‘Well, as Emmi says, I reckon the batting order should be Emmi to open with Bojing, followed by Phoebe, Charlie, me –’

  ‘What?’ Emmi interjected.

  ‘Emmi, shut it,’ Phoebe sighed, turning to scowl at her.

  ‘That’s okay, I can drop down further,’ Camden said, taking out a small pencil.

  ‘Keep going, lad,’ their coach said.

  ‘Hello? Earth to Camden?’ Emmi shouted after a pause.

  Camden’s attention was on something else entirely. Everyone turned to look in the direction he was staring. A tall, elegant figure was walking towards them.

  ‘Who the heck is that?’ Emmi said.

  ‘Maybe he wants to play cricket,’ Joy said, holding a hand up above her eyes to block out the sun’s rays.

  ‘I think you mean she,’ Pickles whispered.

  ‘Far out!’ Emmi cried. ‘That’s twice in five minutes. Pickles, you’ve got verbal diarrhoea!’

  But no one was paying attention to Emmi. There was something about the way the girl, wearing a Melbourne Renegades shirt, confidently approached them. Fatty Bumbar hauled himself to his feet and began trotting across the dusty oval towards the newcomer.

  ‘Hi, my name is Allunga. I heard Kangaroo Flat had a cricket team. I was wondering if I could join?’ the girl asked.

  Ten human faces and one doggy face gawked open-mouthed at the new arrival. Finally, Farmer McKenzie cleared his throat.

  ‘G’day Allunga. Of course you can. You ever played cricket before?’

  Allunga laughed softly. ‘Yes,’ she answered, her brown eyes sparkling.

  Thursday afternoon

  Farmer McKenzie had taken the Kangaroo Flat Galahs under his wing when their previous coach, Travis, had left for a new job in Fremantle. Even though Farmer McKenzie didn’t know much about cricket, he’d felt sorry for the kids practising at the reserve on their own every week, so he had offered to help out. The players were rapt that someone was even taking an interest in them and agreed immediately.

  One year on, and with the Edenhope Eagles game looming, Farmer McKenzie could sense the team was getting fed up. Maybe a new member and a bit of positivity was just what the Galahs needed.

  ‘Right then, welcome from us all,’ Farmer McKenzie said. ‘We’d be mighty glad to have you on board. Isn’t that right, everyone?’

  ‘For sure,’ Joy agreed, nodding eagerly.

  ‘Yeah, well, practice has just finished,’ Emmi said, getting to her feet. ‘But we’ll be back again this time next week for another wasted hour. Are you sure you want to join the Kangaroo Flat team? We –’

  ‘Emmi, why don’t you let Allunga make up her own mind?’ Phoebe suggested.

  ‘As I was saying,’ Emmi continued, ignoring Phoebe’s interruption. ‘We are in the Zone Championships, but there are only two teams. We train for two months, then play our one and only match against the Edenhope Eagles, who we haven’t beaten in 30 years.’

  ‘Right then, so who’s going to give Allunga the good news?’ Farmer McKenzie asked, his bushy eyebrows raised.

  ‘Well,’ Camden began, ‘for the first time ever, the Big Bash League and Women’s Big Bash League will be sponsoring one of the teams in the competition. Whoever gets chosen will receive all this awesome new cricket equipment, and whoever wins the game between us and the Eagles will get to train in Perth, meet some of the players, go to the Perth Scorchers versus Melbourne Renegades double-header and, of course, be in the play-offs for the T20 State Championship.’

  ‘Sounds pretty cool, huh?’ Joy said, hoping desperately that Allunga would agree.

  ‘That’s awesome,’ she said. ‘I’ve never been to a Big Bash game.’

  ‘Allunga, none of us have ever been either,’ Farmer McKenzie said. ‘Only seen it on the telly.’

  ‘There’s just the small problem of beating the Eagles,’ Phoebe reminded everyone.

  ‘Piece of cake,’ their coach said. ‘I’ve got a feeling it’s our time this year. So, Camden, back to the plan?’

  ‘Right,’ Camden said, retrieving his piece of paper. ‘So, maybe Allunga can open the batting.’

  ‘And open the bowling,’ Joy added.

  ‘I like bowling,’ Allunga said, nodding.

  ‘That’s great,’ Camden said, drawing a line through Phoebe’s name.

  ‘Actually, Cam, why don’t we look at this next week, at our final practice?’ Farmer McKenzie suggested.

  ‘When is the game against the Eagles?’ Allunga asked.

  ‘Saturday week,’ Bojing replied. ‘We’ve got one more practice, next Thursday.’

  ‘You only practise once a week?’ Allunga asked.

  ‘Well, we’re supposed to do personal training at home on the other days,’ Charlie said.

  Everyone was suddenly looking down at the ground or their feet.

  ‘Yes, we’re all pretty busy, you know, here at Kangaroo Flat,’ said Bojing.

  ‘No we’re not,’ Camden said, looking up. ‘There’s not much to do once school finishes. The pool’s got no water in it, we’re too old for the playground and the air conditioning in Mrs Bentley’s store is broken.’

  ‘Yeah, that really sucks,’ Krisso chimed in. ‘She lost power yesterday and all the ice creams melted. Mrs Bentley reckons it’s gonna take a whole day to get fixed.’

  ‘Hey, this town is a wonderful place, and you all know it. It can get a bit tough in the summer, I agree, but the pool will be ready in a couple of days,’ Farmer McKenzie said, glaring at his players. ‘So, anyway, do you reckon we should squeeze in one more training session before the big game next Saturday?’

  ‘Can’t hurt,’ Phoebe replied.

  ‘Won’t make any difference, will it?’ Bojing added.

  ‘What about two practices?’ Allunga suggested. ‘Each day. One in the morning before the heat of the day, then one later in the afternoon when it’s cooled down.’

  Camden and Phoebe exchanged glances.

  ‘Stone the crows, love, I can’t commit that sort of time,’ Farmer McKenzie muttered, scratching the grey stubble on his chin. ‘I mean, the fences need work. I’ve got the crops, of course, and that bloomin’ trough in the back paddock is leaking like a sieve –’

  ‘
No worries, Farmer McKenzie. It’ll be tough, but we can do some sessions without you,’ Camden said. ‘Agreed, everyone?’

  It wasn’t a hugely positive response, but Camden took heart that no one disagreed.

  ‘So, tomorrow morning?’ Phoebe asked. ‘About eight o’clock?’

  By 8.15 the following morning, the team were ready and waiting at the reserve.

  Camden had hoped to see from which direction Allunga had come, but she was already there by the time he arrived. Did she live in town? Camden wondered. He knew he could ask, but there was something about her that made him reluctant. Maybe she would open up soon enough.

  ‘Seriously, are we really the Galahs?’ Allunga asked Camden, as they walked out to the centre wicket.

  ‘Yup, the Kangaroo Flat Galahs,’ Camden confirmed.

  As if on cue, a huge flock of pink-and-grey birds rose into the air from one of the huge gum trees behind the toilet block, squawking loudly as they flew west.

  Camden had asked everyone to bring along all the cricket equipment they could find. It now lay in a messy pile at his feet.

  ‘Doesn’t the cricket club have new equipment?’ Allunga asked, looking doubtfully at the ancient bundle of torn, chewed and broken stumps, gloves, bats and balls.

  ‘I think we used to, but they’ve never been replaced,’ Camden sighed.

  Joy laughed. ‘And Fatty Bumbar doesn’t help. He’s always sneaking off with equipment to chew on.’

  ‘Fatty Bumbar?’ Allunga asked.

  ‘Doesn’t matter,’ Emmi snapped. ‘All we do is stand around and talk, talk, talk. We don’t play enough.’

  ‘Yes, I think Emmi is right,’ Allunga said, picking up a tattered and faded cricket ball. She spun it into the air and caught it neatly in one hand.

  Emmi was blushing. Always one to speak her mind, she couldn’t remember the last time someone had said she was right, especially in front of the rest of the team.