Fabulous Funsters,
Found ourselves, the Good Lady Wife and me, at the Olympic Showground out at Homebush last Wednesday night for a T20 game, and to see what the fuss was all about.
We'd decided a few days before that we'd barrack for the Sydney Chunder as they are the closest team to us, it's their home ground and it's nice there, and we were even prepared to give the team's Captain Shane "FIGJAM" Watson the benefit of the doubt and forgive him for all his sins while he was playing for Straya, for one match only.
In any case, supporting a team called the Adelaide Shirkers was out of the question before it was even asked.
We walked right in and sat right down in Bay 220, which turned out to be in the Shaky Stand.
A temporary steel scaffold of a thing with rather comfortable flip-up bright red seats that appeared to be built on top of the groundsmen's tunnel - it's only there for the cricket you'd think - and when folk started jumping up and down, which they did often, the whole thing shook like we were in for stadium disaster, but remarkably it stayed upright.
The whole joint was jumpin', packed to the rafters.
We were utterly unprepared for the Big Bash League.
It is way beyond weird.
It's a licence for twenty thousand people to go absolutely insane however they like for three hours as the batsmen aim for the 6 and the 4, and the bigger the bang off the super-huge log-like bat and tonking the ball in a spectacular arc for a MAXIMUM is the moment when everyone loses their shit.
How bizzare, how bizzare.
It's a licence to go completely crazy, and do things you would never dream of doing in public otherwise.
At one stage, found myself enthusiastically involved in that uniquely peculiar Australian sporting phenomena - the Mexican Wave.
The Mexican Wave?
Please, don't ask me why.
The piped rock & pop music whenever there's a break in play, i.e. after every ball, was incredibly loud on the Tannoy.
Right up to 11 on the mixing desk.
But how do you explain yourself cheering and singing along when they finally put Acca Dacca on?
Dancing at the Big Bash is compulsory, of course.
They have a troupe of Thunderdome Dancers, and the players have to wait until the routine is through with before they start playing again - dancing take precendence over the cricket, and why not?
Everyone is endlessly encouraged by the ring-master to get the jiggle on; dancing girls, the crowd, the players, even the umpires.
There's green fireworks.
Everyone's come for the circus.
It all helps to be on some kind of drugs, of course.
A big mob of Subcontinental chaps right in front of us were indulging in the time-honoured Australian cricket tradition of full-on binge-beering for the entire match.
Funny to watch as they got drunker and drunker - pissed as, the two-pot screamers.
Just to the left of us was the enormous glassed-in bar that would easily hold 300+ standing and has a magnificent view of the playing arena.
The bar appears to have no name, there is just a sign on it that says BAR OPEN TO THE PUBLIC.
Hardly anyone was in there - everyone appeared to get their beer and go back to their seats - except for the hard-core drinkers on the comfy front stools provided with a ledge to perch yr beer on while you look out at the match through the glass.
Can't think of a cricket, football or any other stadium in the country where the hoi polloi can still do that.
Little wonder then that Spotless Stadium was last year "voted" [by whom? who knows] the most user-friendly venue in Australia.
The Kidz Zone was madness on a stick.
Thousands of screaming children with shocking lime green Thunder crowd clappers, all dressed in fully full-on merch, and jumping about next to a huge fibreglass replica of a Thunder baseball cap that looked eerily menacing, like it was about to mechanically move forward and swallow all the players when they came off the ground, but it didn't.
The kids were going wild, all off their tits on soda-pop, wearing KFC bucket hats on their heads [weren't they meant for catching?] and madly waving the free 6 or 4 placards to go ballistic with when they bashed the big ones outta the park.
The bucket hats were problematically as they did nothing except make your head hot, but one boy solved the problem by ripping two tears in his bucket and then flipping it up to create a shade lid to cut the glare of the floodlights with but with the rest of the bucket over his ears like earmuffs, Nordic style.
He was the coolest kid in the hot crowd, no doubt.
But all those young'uns would also have the chance at about three to four seconds of fame on the telly, if they were lucky.
That's what they were really there for.
A fleeting shower of rain came across the ground from time to time, but no one cared - play goes on.
But, most unlike the unruly spontaneous behaviour that happened on the last day of the Sydney Test match, the controlled chaos was very carefully stage managed and well orchestrated, kind of like a modern-day Vaudeville.
Most folk at the game wore no merch, it was just a night out for a bit of hit'n'giggle between two made-up teams that have no real following and no rusted-on supporters - unlike football; at thirty bucks it was the cheapest entertainment on in town that night, and screaming, dancing, drinking, loud music and cricket were all guaranteed to be in the offing.
That's why we were there.
What's not to love?
At half time in the Smoking Lounge, which the Crowd Controller said was "anywhere out the back", all the chuggers looked like ordinary casual folk you wouldn't give a second glance to on the street, except for one dude - a dandy.
He appeared to be in his late 20's, on his own, and he propped himself up against the cyclone fence dressed in winklepicker shoes, black stove-pipe pants, a long-sleeve paisley shirt with cufflinks and buttoned at the neck, and a different patterned paisley velvet short-sleeved waist-coat, and a pencil moustache. No hat.
It begged the question - why the hell was he here? Of all places.
What was going on out in the middle was definitely cricket, no doubt about it, but played more like a baseball match on steroids.
It certainly wasn't first class cricket - you'll never ever see four slips and a gully at a T20 game.
No one cares that all the players are either washed-up old former Internationals who still think they have star power, or B grade players who have specialised specifically in one aspect of T20; the wicket-buster, the miserly-spinner, the pinch-hitter and the long-stop will all get picked on those attributes alone.
Did that matter to anyone?
Nope.
It was league cricket, after all.
Even for the purist who thinks it will never get better than a Test match, a night out at the ball park is not at all bad - top notch manufactured made-for-television entertainment.
Nothing more, nothing less.
And let's face it, cricket has evolved like no other game in the world over the course of it's roughly 260 year old history, and this is just yet another strange incarnation.
Reckon they should bring back lob-bowling for T20, it would make for a highly effective novelty.
So the actual play was barely relevant, but there were some highlights...Ol' Brad Hodge for the Shirkers quickly garnered the nickname "Podgey Hodgey" as he is fat - been on the burgers.
The GLW - who has 20/20 vision - spotted the glint from the diamond ear-stud Keiron Pollard was batting in.
The bloke still thinks he's the best thing since bottled Scotch.
The Chunder allowed the Shirkers to get away from them early, and Adelbrain rattled along nicely - even 20/20 can be a bit dull as they play tip'n'run for 1's and 2's - but they hit ten MAXIMUMS to put up a challenging target of 179 to get, but everyone was asking who the hell is Ben Dunk when he's at home?
Dunkers top scored for the Shirkers with 65.
Must've been asleep during his preceeding career.
At one point the GLW heard a lone vuvuzela.
But, you have to love it when someone is clean bowled - not only do the bails go off with flashing lights, but all the stumps light up as well - you can buy the full set at the merch caravan.
Woot!
Carlos Braithwaite for the Thunder took a wicket with his second ball.
He did a sort of Whirling Dervish act and thought he was the King of the World in that moment, but then he, like most of 'em, got carted all over and out of the ground, and some of his fielding efforts were comically useless.
Amid all the mayhem and the crowds, fairly confident maybe that there were at least two unlawful acts involving some bloke who may or may not have looked like me - don't know, can't recall.
But, using c.sativa off-label as a treatment for chronic pain, not to get as high as a kite, as was its original purpose?
Oh, no siree.
Not me, occiffer.
Scoobing under another big old fig tree - a bit naughty, probably lawless - this time a Port Jackson, but thankfully the smishy fruit was not ripe; it drops during the football season.
Shielding the mighty reefer and blowing the acrid smoke into the teeth of a stiff Southerly Buster that'd been howling a gale all afternoon after it was 38 degrees at 9:30am at our joint takes some skill.
And openly flouting the NSW Railways by-laws by not being willing or able to buy a ticket to get to the ground.
Spare me.
Had my speil all worked out for the ticket inspector: "aw, c'mon mate, ya can't book a cripple it's not right look at me a walking stick is clearly for the disabled and i'm just trying to go to the cricket like everyone else but because of your bloody Opal card system a man and his wife cannot travel together on the same card because everytime you try to tap the card again it says on the machine 'card already tapped' and the gates won't open and it was busy and we were causing a hold up and the staff at Strathfield station just waved me on through the disabled entry saying it was open and besides i wouldn't buy an Opal card on principle because i'm a tired old fart who used to like the way the single tickets were sold by railway employees for cash money coins out of yr pocket and i always bought one then but i haven't lately because they no longer exist and this is all insufferable because i've been sponging off my wife for years now and now we are told we can't even legally catch a train together on her card because of your stupid ticketing system and the world's gone mad look at me, and my left leg really hurts, sir"
But never got a chance to bore the poor bloke to death.
As seen one day at Leichhardt Oval, the now infamous t-shirt that read "It's not illegal unless you get caught".
And in any case, the train fare to and from was $2.36 each way, so in effect we got a couple of $1.19 rides each off the NSW Railways.
You can't get fairer than that.
All of that said, when someone in authority presses the button marked "Olympic Transport System", it still all operates as smooth, simple, and seamless as it did 16 and a bit years ago - got it perfectly fine the first time, so there's no need to fix it.
While my Spy at The Ground in Melbourne reported there was a fix going on at the tennis, it was a Calypso Collapso at the Showground.
The Chunder had gurglerised.
Didn't even last the 20 overs.
Lucky to crack the hundred, for mine.
Sledged, barracked and bagged FIGJAM throughout the match, especially during his time at the crease; called him names - too-old, burnt-out, a joke, a no-talent, a cancer on the game etc etc etc - and he was the Captain of the team we were meant to be supporting.
Personally reminded him of his record in "real" cricket, and told him in no uncertain terms that his highest career achievement was being made Vice-Captain of Australia under a man who hated him with a passion in one MJ Clarke.
Although, on reflection, It was somehow kind of sad to see Worn Out Watto in his sporting dotage go 'round for his pension, but it was really great, also.
Never had the opportunity to do that before.
All in jest and good humour, of course.
All Hope Was Lost when Ol' Figgers got out going for a spectacular tonk - and sky'd it something awful to the long-on boundary rider.
After that, a New Zealander of Indian extraction who goes by the name of Ish Sodhi took six wickets in short order for the Shirkers and it was goodnight nurse.
What's it like to lose at home?
Just had a slightly earlier than expected night at 10.26pm.
And a bloke called "Fuzz" was not out in the denouement.
Work that out.
As we were going out at the end of the match the GLW - who was in great form all night - remarked "Ah ha! Now I know where we are. We were sitting in the Gosford seats".
"Mmm. Whaddya mean, the Gosford seats?"
She replied, pointing at the stadium gates, "you know, near The Entrance".
Boom! Boom!
You had to be there.
As Hunter S Thompson was fond of saying:
"When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro".
Big Bash League Game 29
Sydney Thunder v Adelaide Strikers
Strikers 5/178 [20 overs. Dunk 65. Watson 2/42].
Thunder 101 [15.3 overs. Watson 39. Sodhi 6/11].
Strikers won the toss and elected to bat.
Strikers won by 77 runs.
Crowd: 20,076.
At Olympic Showground, Homebush.
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