Championship Dash

by Michael Panckridge

  Emmi swallowed. ‘You think he won’t bat?’ she asked, her face paling.

  ‘Emmi, it’s not your fault. He should never have been fielding there in the first place,’ Camden said.

  Barnsey grinned. ‘You got him good, Em.’

  ‘Barnsey, it’s not funny,’ Joy said.

  ‘Leave it, everyone. There’s nothing to be done. Camden’s right, Em. Wrong place, wrong time,’ Farmer McKenzie acknowledged.

  ‘Now, let’s go win this,’ Allunga said.

  The players gathered in close and linked arms. ‘Galahs!’ they roared.

  While there were no restrictions on batters, there were on bowlers, with four overs being the most one bowler could deliver.

  ‘Something’s not right,’ Allunga muttered, accepting the new ball from the umpire and staring down the pitch.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Phoebe asked.

  ‘Does he look like an opening batter?’

  Phoebe shrugged. ‘He’s got a bat and he’s wearing pads, gloves and a helmet. That’s good enough for me.’

  ‘And he’s opening the batting,’ Camden added.

  ‘Yeah, maybe.’ Allunga nodded. ‘Maybe.’

  The food stalls and drink stands quickly emptied as play resumed. There was a buzz in the crowd – a sense of hope, a feeling of anticipation. Were the spectators about to witness the first Kangaroo Flat victory in over 30 years?

  Allunga bowled the first over. Like her batting, her bowling action oozed style. From the very first ball, she was bang-on target, but neither she, nor Phoebe, could break through the determined defence of the Eagles batters. Although they weren’t scoring many runs, they were also not losing wickets.

  After four overs, the Eagles had crawled to no wickets for nine runs. The Eagles had a plan. It was bold and risky, but it was working. They knew that Allunga would be the Galahs strike bowler. And they also predicted that she’d be opening the bowling. Their plan was simple. Survive Allunga and then let their best batters smash the rest of the Galahs bowlers all over the park. The Galahs had batted well, but surely they didn’t have four bowlers who could stop the mighty Eagles batters?

  The two batters stood mid-pitch, watching Allunga’s every move.

  ‘I’m not going to bowl this over,’ she said, tossing the ball to Barnsey. Suddenly, the two batters leaned over, clutching their stomachs. One of them started to dry retch.

  ‘Got this bug back at Edenhope,’ one of them spluttered.

  The umpires looked at each other and shrugged. Hunched and groaning, the batters turned and headed towards the Eagles supporter group.

  ‘Hey, what’s going on?’ Krisso asked, pointing at the two retreating figures.

  ‘Their plan, that’s what’s going on,’ Allunga said, nodding her approval. ‘Here come their real openers,’ she added. Sure enough, two new batters were striding to the crease; they looked a whole lot bigger and stronger than the two they’d just passed.

  Saturday morning

  In the blink of an eye, the game changed. The Eagles had needed 7.85 runs an over at the start of their innings. That had ballooned out to over nine runs after four overs. But with Allunga out of the attack, and the two Eagles batters picking off the runs from the other Galahs bowlers with ease, the run rate quickly started to drop again.

  ‘Allunga, you’ve got to come back on,’ Barnsey said, wiping his brow, sweat dripping from his face.

  ‘Yes, I think you’re right,’ she agreed, catching the ball.

  ‘I do not believe this,’ Camden gasped, as one of the batters reeled away to vomit.

  ‘What the?’ the umpire muttered, turning to look at the Eagles camp.

  ‘We’ve got real problems,’ the Eagles official said, running up to the umpire. Everyone turned to watch the batters hustle for the toilets.

  ‘Hey!’ Emmi called, before she could stop herself. ‘It’s not over yet.’ The two Eagles batters didn’t break stride. A moment later, the two original openers were again making their way back out to the pitch, albeit slowly.

  ‘Is this legal?’ Phoebe asked the umpires.

  ‘Nothing I can do if the kids are crook,’ he replied.

  Some of the Kangaroo Flat spectators who knew their cricket were slow handclapping and calling out in frustration.

  ‘Mind ya own business, ya useless bunch of galahs,’ a large woman in the red and black Eagles colours shouted across the oval.

  ‘Play it fair or go home,’ Merv, the Kangaroo Flat butcher, cried.

  ‘Double bluff,’ Pickles said, holding his hand out to Allunga for the ball.

  ‘Pickles, you don’t bowl,’ Emmi said, shaking her head.

  ‘I don’t bat either, but one over can’t hurt, can it?’

  A roar of laugher erupted from the Eagles supporters as Pickles bowled his first ball, a wonky, tentative delivery that bounced three times before reaching the batter. It was blocked. It was the same with the next ball and suddenly the laughter ceased. The Eagles had been tricked. The instructions to the two opening batters had been to block, no more.

  ‘For crying out loud, hit the darn thing, Ross!’ an Eagles supporter roared.

  Confused, the batter took a huge swing at Pickles’ next ball and missed it completely. It grazed the off stump, knocking off one of the bails. Pickles had just taken the first wicket for Kangaroo Flat in three years.

  But the Galahs joy quickly turned sour as each of his last three balls were belted away to the boundary.

  Barnsey and Phoebe bowled the next three overs and there was a flurry of runs and wickets. It was anyone’s game.

  With five overs to bowl, the Eagles needed 34 runs. And just when everyone thought the excitement had reached fever pitch, a huge bus, emblazoned with orange fire along each side, pulled off the highway and eased to a stop at the gates to the reserve.

  Everyone stared as the door opened and a tall man wearing Perth Scorchers gear stepped off. Then another. And another.

  ‘I don’t believe this,’ Camden gasped, staring in disbelief as 20 Perth Scorchers cricketers made their way towards the ground. Children and adults swarmed in their direction.

  ‘Shaun and Mitch Marsh,’ Joy mumbled, walking trance-like for the boundary line.

  ‘Joy, get back here,’ Allunga shouted.

  ‘B-but they might go,’ Joy croaked, torn.

  ‘They will not go, I promise,’ Allunga assured her. ‘How about we get back out there and show those Eagles what we’re made of?’

  ‘You’re right. Now, let’s make the Scorchers proud and win this crazy game,’ Camden said, as he smiled at his team.

  ‘You bet,’ Allunga agreed.

  A few more wickets fell, but plenty of runs were scored too. With one over to bowl, the Eagles needed ten runs to win. Their score was eight for 118. They’d been playing catch-up all morning, but every person at the ground knew that a few boundaries could change all that.

  On the other hand, no one knew exactly how many wickets the Galahs needed to secure victory. Camden and his teammates were constantly checking the Eagles camp for signs of the boy with the bruised leg. And to add to the atmosphere, the Perth Scorchers players were leaning on the fence rails, completely hooked by the drama unfolding on the ground.

  Allunga’s first delivery shaved the off stump. Joy, thinking it was about to hit the stumps, had raised two gloved hands in the air. The ball flicked her pad before speeding across the dry oval to the boundary.

  The Eagles supporters erupted. Four precious runs. Four less runs to score and four runs closer to their target.

  Emmi closed her eyes, willing the frustration to vanish. ‘No stress, Joy, we’ve got this,’ she said, surprising herself, as much as her teammates, with the positive comment. A few weeks ago, she would have spat angry words in Joy’s direction.

  Joy looked across at Emmi, grimaced and then nodded with determination.

  ‘C’mon, Allunga!’ Farmer McKenzie shouted from the sidelines. ‘One more bloomin’ wicket.’
r />   The Eagles batter swung wildly at the ball. It caught the edge of his bat and cannoned into his stomach before dropping to the pitch. The batter edged nervously out of his crease as the other batter came rushing down the wicket.

  ‘Run!’ he screamed.

  Joy pounced on the ball like a cat, flicking it back at the stumps before the batter could return to his crease.

  ‘How’s that?’ half the Kangaroo Flat players yelled, turning as one to stare at the square leg umpire. He nodded his head before raising a pointed finger into the air.

  The reserve erupted. Players and supporters were jumping around like crazy, hugging and high-fiving.

  ‘Not so fast,’ the umpire at the bowler’s end called, pointing to a figure hobbling towards them.

  The celebrations ceased as quickly as they’d started. The Eagles were making one last desperate attempt at victory.

  Saturday morning

  Three Eagles players were now on the field, the striker with the sore leg, the non-striker at the bowlers end, and a runner, standing next to the square leg umpire. He would run for the boy with the badly bruised leg.

  Four balls to be bowled; one measly wicket for the Galahs to claim victory or six runs for the Eagles to win.

  ‘Stand and deliver, Rusty my boy,’ an Eagles fan bellowed.

  Allunga was thinking quickly. He can’t move. He’ll stand in his crease and go cross-bat. Try to get off strike. All he wants is a single.

  ‘Everyone in,’ she called, waving her arms. ‘Em, short cover.’

  Camden jogged in from his position at deep point. Emmi stepped in closer. She could see the perspiration beading on the batter’s ashen face. He looked startled and afraid. For the second time that day, Emmi surprised herself.

  ‘I’m really sorry,’ she said to the batter. He looked across at her. Emmi was waiting for a torrent of abuse, but instead, he just stared blankly at her. He was on the verge of tears. She could see he was in genuine pain and those stupid Eagles had sent him out to bat. Suddenly, Emmi was feeling a different kind of anger.

  Shortening her run-up, Allunga sent down a high, loopy delivery. Instinctively, the batter lunged forwards, wincing in agony as he stumbled. He collapsed to his knees, yelping as he staggered, falling out of his crease. Leaping to her left, Emmi picked up the ball.

  ‘Run him out!’ Barnsey cried, rushing in from mid-off. But instead, Emmi turned and rolled the ball back down the crease before going up to the batter and offering her arm.

  ‘What on earth, Em?’ Bojing cried, pointing to the crease. ‘We had him.’ Silence spread across the field. Supporters from both sides were staring in amazement at the drama unfolding before their eyes.

  Then one of the Perth Scorchers players started clapping. A Galahs supporter joined in, an Eagles supporter followed and soon every single person at the reserve was clapping.

  It would be remembered as the greatest act of sportsmanship ever seen at the Kangaroo Flat Reserve.

  After a few moments, Rusty got to his feet, propping himself on his bat as he waited for Allunga’s next delivery. This time he stood very still. At the last minute, with the ball only a metre or so from him, he swung his bat, hitting it with a leading edge. It flew past Emmi’s outstretched hand. Before Charlie could gather in the ball, the non-striker and runner had secured a vital run for the Eagles.

  The noise from the crowd rose once more. The Eagles had two balls to score the remaining five runs.

  Allunga was thinking quickly. She met with Camden, Phoebe, Emmi and Barnsey at mid-pitch. ‘We have to protect the boundaries. Ones and twos are kind of okay now. I reckon everyone back. What do you think?’

  ‘Agreed.’ Camden nodded. ‘Maybe just one in on each side, yeah?’

  Taking a last glance around the field, Allunga strode to the wicket. An eerie hush had settled over the ground.

  Taking a huge risk, the Eagles batter danced down the pitch, meeting the ball on the full.

  WHACK!

  He’d clubbed it over mid-off and down to the boundary for four. Once again the crowd erupted, but this time the gasps of shock from the locals almost matched the squeals of delight from the Eagles supporters. With one ball to go, the scores were tied.

  Waving her arms frantically, Allunga called all the players back in close to the wicket. She knew that gifting the Eagles one, solitary run would mean defeat for the Galahs.

  ‘Everyone on your toes and ready,’ called Allunga. ‘No runs, okay?’

  Allunga delivered a faster ball, spearing in at the batter’s pads. He darted down the pitch, but this time he wasn’t quick enough. Joy recovered the ball and cannoned it into the stumps.

  The Galahs rushed in to congratulate Allunga and Joy.

  Supporters from both sides were charging onto the ground and for a few minutes there was total confusion as both sides celebrated victory.

  ‘The Eagles are Zone Champions as we’re the current winner,’ one of the Eagles coaches said. ‘We won last year.’

  ‘And the year before that.’ Another Eagles supporter laughed.

  Camden and his teammates looked horrified.

  ‘No, no,’ one of the umpires said, shaking his head. ‘Please, everyone, could you just stand back a moment?’ Reluctantly, the crowd took a few paces back, while the umpires chatted. ‘Okay,’ the umpire called, holding up his hand for quiet. By now everyone had gathered onto the ground. ‘Because they lost less wickets during their innings, the Kangaroo Flat Galahs have won the match and will progress to Perth for the T20 State Championships.’

  There was a moment of complete silence before the ten Kangaroo Flat players jumped into the air, shouting and crying in delight. Their parents and the rest of the town’s supporters followed soon after.

  Angry and in utter shock, the Eagles and their followers trudged off the field.

  ‘I don’t believe this,’ Camden shrieked, hugging the nearest person to him, which happened to be Bojing. Then everyone was hugging everyone.

  ‘This is the best!’ Barnsey cried, raising his fist into the air. The high fives, handshakes and hugs continued for some minutes until Farmer McKenzie, noticing the Eagles captain and coach walking slowly towards them, called for the players’ attention.

  ‘Everyone, now you can show all the people here that you’re not only winners but good winners too.’

  Allunga led the team in a line to shake hands with the Eagles.

  Tuesday evening

  The unexpected win meant there was lots to do. With the bus arriving in town on Wednesday morning to transport the team on the long trip to Perth, shopping, packing and more practice took up most of the players’ time.

  The Mayor of Kangaroo Flat organised a special send-off for the team the evening before their departure and nearly every resident of the township made the trip to the Town Hall to wish them well.

  ‘We are so proud of you,’ the Mayor’s voice boomed, echoing around the crowded hall. ‘You have achieved so much already by being the first team in 30 years to defeat the Eagles. I know you’ll represent our community with pride and grace.’ He turned to the ten players seated on stage behind him. ‘And so, to each of you, I present the key to Kangaroo Flat. This means that you are considered legends of our township and every door will be open to you for the rest of your lives.’

  ‘Cool! I’m so going to get into Mrs Bentley’s deli with that,’ Barnsey whispered to Camden.

  ‘I don’t think they’re real keys,’ Camden replied under his breath.

  After the players had each received their key, everyone moved into an adjoining room that was almost as big as the hall.

  Camden whistled softly at the sight of three enormous tables laden with sandwiches, cakes, buns, party pies, sausage rolls, jelly, fruit platters, scones, muffins and a huge array of different coloured cordials and soft drinks.

  ‘So what does this key get us into?’ Barnsey asked, juggling a plate covered with food.

  Early the next morning, the players and the
ir families gathered outside the Town Hall, where a huge bus stood waiting. There were plenty of hugs and kisses and a few tears as well.

  Camden watched from his seat near the front of the bus as Allunga appeared, alone, smiling as she gave the driver her bag to place in the cargo hold of the bus.

  ‘Maybe she said goodbye to her family at home,’ Phoebe said, looking over Camden’s shoulder.

  ‘Oh, there’s Fatty Bumbar,’ Joy said, pointing. ‘He looks so sad.’

  ‘G’day troopers,’ Farmer McKenzie hollered, from the front of the bus.

  Joy watched Fatty Bumbar sniff the ground, lift his leg at the base of a lamppost then trot over and pause at the steps of the bus. Farmer McKenzie and the driver were looking intently at the map navigation screen and didn’t notice Fatty Bumbar skulk up the steps and slink past them.

  ‘Here, boy,’ Joy whispered, holding out her hand. Fatty Bumbar gave it a lick, then settled down at Joy’s feet.

  It wasn’t until three hours into the nine-hour trip that Fatty Bumbar became known to the rest of the travellers.

  ‘I think he needs to pee,’ Joy said, tapping Farmer McKenzie on the shoulder.

  Farmer McKenzie shook himself awake. ‘What?’

  ‘He needs to have a wee,’ Joy repeated.

  ‘Back of the bus,’ Farmer McKenzie grunted, jerking his thumb behind him and easing himself back down in his seat. Joy glanced behind her.

  ‘Are you sure?’ she said. ‘He can do that?’

  Farmer McKenzie opened one eye and turned slightly in his seat. ‘Reckon that’s the best place.’

  ‘Really? That’s so cool, Macka.’ Joy beamed, patting Fatty Bumbar.

  Suddenly, Farmer McKenzie felt something raspy and wet licking his hand. ‘What the?’ he yelled, jumping up and hitting his head on the locker above. ‘Ow! Fatty Bumbar? What on earth? Joy?’

  ‘I-I thought he was supposed to come with us,’ Joy said, glancing anxiously over her shoulder for support. Fatty Bumbar crouched low, sensing the anger in his master’s voice.