Round 17: Pines vs Mt. Eliza 

With Captain Woke in Bali eating vegan and offsetting his carbon footprint, Macca took over and immediately proved himself a better captain by winning the toss. Out in the centre, Russell and Shane got to work opening the innings, their time together quickly blossoming into a full-blown bromance, all glove punching, flirtatious mid-pitch conferences and slaps on the arse. Just as they were about to get a room, Russell hit a return catch to the bowler.

“Who’s this guy batting at number 3?” we asked as someone we vaguely recognised made his way out to the wicket. Bernie has been absent this season more often than Scott Morrison in a national emergency.

“I don’t hold a bat mate”, he said, before being convinced that it was probably better that he did.

Shane soon brought up his 50 with a crunching 4 and a nasty arm strain. Fearing a recurrence of the torn bicep that terminated his season a few years back, he retired hurt, still the most shameful way to end an innings. While he reunited with Russell in the viewing area, we quietly dispatched the 12th man to the post office to mail him a white feather.

Macca and Bernie were soon leading Pines a merry old dance. Unfortunately, the latter were doing a gentle two-step while B and M were off their heads on E at a rave. At length, they both brought up marvellous unbeaten centuries, despite Ken’s determined efforts to find a way around MPCA regulations and have us declare before they could get there.

Given that we had 313 in the book, the weather seemed our greatest threat. The radar looked like a nasty bruise and indeed it was raining steadily by the time Pines commenced their innings.

Fortunately, we began picking up wickets immediately. Soon we were picking up more often than Brad Pitt at a hens’ party. This was every-kid-gets-a-trophy kind of stuff, with Paul, Brett, Bergs, Marcus, Macca and Brian tagging one-by-one onto the conga line of bowling success.

The win left us with an unassailable position in the four, perfectly placed to lose another grand final.

Mt. Eliza: 1/313: B. Cooper 104 no; C. McDonough 101 no; S. Maxwell 52 retired hurt

Pines 9/160: B. Macpherson 2/9; B. Fox 2/20; M. Lyon 2/38; P. Goddard 1/17; D. Bergin 1/18; C. McDonough 1/28

Round 16: Mt. Eliza vs Carrum Downs 

Having spent most of the season getting the roofs of their mouths sunburnt as sixes sailed over their heads, Carrum Downs had no hesitation in batting upon winning the toss. This of course meant they would be required to remain in the field no longer than it would take us to exceed by one run whatever meagre total they were about to post when it came our turn to bat. Denied the chance to apply their underage bowling as a salve for our hurt egos – badly bruised after the previous week’s heavy defeat – we tossed the ball around half-heartedly in a hollow facsimile of fielding practice. Narrowing our eyes, we looked darkly upon their team of weak-armed, psychologically fragile children, promising to make them pay for their selfishness.

Out in the field, we had them in early trouble before realising we were in violation of several articles of the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child. We dropped a few catches to give them a chance and offered some fake encouragement for their futile efforts at hitting the ball off the square. But be damned if the youngsters wouldn’t keep getting out. Brian was proving more threatening than an out-of-work clown driving a Mr Whippy van past a kindergarten. Later, Jason came on to clean up the tail, like a fastidious taxidermist preparing to stuff a baby kangaroo.

The kids loved afternoon tea. There was fairy bread and lollies and everyone got a piece of cake to take home. Meanwhile, our captain ate little, preferring to save room for the steaming viscera of our opponents’ gutted bowling attack. He was indeed the unspeakable in full pursuit of the unthreatening.

Never one to miss an opportunity to add a quick 10 or 20 points to his batting average, he initially refused to let anyone else have a bat, before being reminded that a second batsman was compulsory under the laws of cricket. He reluctantly let Maxi join him and together they quickly kicked over the kids’ sandcastles, called them names and sent us careening past their paltry total.

Carrum Downs: 10/91. B. Fox 6/19; J. Ross 2/11; P. Goddard 1/12; M. Lyon 1/19

Mt. Eliza: 0/96. S. Maxwell 48 not out; P. Leonard 38 not out

Round 15: Pearcedale vs Mt. Eliza 

We’d already seen too much of Pearcedale this season when the invite came for a third engagement. No one could think of a good excuse to get out of it. We said we weren’t sure if we could find a babysitter. “Hilarious!” they countered. “You wizened old geriatrics last had motile sperm sometime during the Centenary Test”.

Out at Recreation Reserve No. 1, Pearcedale were renovating.

“We love what you’ve done with the place”, we offered politely, looking balefully over at the former pavilion, now a desolate construction site on which little progress seemed to have been made since we last visited 4 months ago. As Albert Einstein said in The Physics of Cricket, the definition of insanity is going to Pearcedale. We won the toss, batted and set about scoring with the speed of water dripping onto a malformed stalagmite.

To paraphrase Max Walker in his classic Great Dystopian Cricket Yarns and Mildly Disturbing Drinking Stories, “If you want a picture of the future, imagine a Pearcedale boot stamping on a Mt. Eliza face – forever”. The future was here and the boot was uncomfortable. Pearcedale had us pinned down like dried butterflies in an entomologist’s display case.

This was cautious batting. This was slip-slop-slap, Hazmat suit, Workcover-approved batting, bringing to mind the words of J. Alfred Prufrock in his seminal 1915 Ashes Tour Diary:

“Do I dare to score a run?”

Drinks found us marooned on the unchartered desert isle of 2/45. If not for the courage of the fearless lower order, the game would be lost. The game would be lost.

When Matt fell straight after drinks, followed by Russell – now having top scored in all three matches against our undefeated opponents – our prospects looked dimmer than a One Nation voter. Fortunately, while those in the middle seemed out of ideas, those manning the scorebook were brimming with them. We ran the old don’t-tell-the-opposition-the-bowler-has-exceeded-his-statutory-8-over-maximum gambit and when Brian had his stumps spreadeagled early in his innings, he was duly called back to resume.

Like an uncompromising drug dealer, he made them pay, scoring a valuable 29 and forming the day’s most prosperous partnership with Bergs, who was debuting the bat that he hadn’t told his (multiple choice: 1. Wife. 2. Accountant. 3. Spiritual advisor) _____ he’d purchased.

Afternoon tea was hot and clammy inside the airless workmen’s hut that formed the makeshift pavilion. The cinnamon donuts went down like Clag, while the masticated sandwiches had the consistency of tiling grout. That boot had moved to the throat and swallowing was proving difficult.

Defending 120, our bowlers tried hard, evidenced by the 31 overs it took the opposition to pass our total. Brian was the standout. Like an uncompromising drug dealer, he gave nothing away, returning the excellent figures of 2/19 from his 8 overs. In the outfield, someone wearing an Andrew Cox mask took a catch.

We said goodbye to Pearcedale, thanking our hosts and mendaciously insisting that we must do this again sometime soon. Then we had an argument in the car on the way home.

Mt. Eliza 8/120: R. Hobbs 32; B. Fox 29; D. Bergin 17

Pearcedale 2/123: B. Fox 2/19

Round 14 | Skye v Mt Eliza | Win

We arrived at Victoria Park in Frankston as the unwitting cast of Honey I Shrunk the Cricket Ground. Not since Gulliver sub-fielded for the Lilliput 1^st XI has a ground been sized so inappropriately for the human-sized men assigned to play on it. There are radio telescopes that have discovered galaxies light years from Earth yet still can’t locate Victoria Park on Williams Street.

Skye won the toss and quixotically chose to bowl, with the outfield wet and the promise of a waterlogged ball. There was clearly some kind of carefully thought-out algorithmic reasoning behind this asymmetric decision. Or maybe they were just a bunch of dumbarses.

Phil and Maxi started sensibly with an array of defensive pushes and leaves, most of which went for 4 or 6. By the time Phil committed batting harakiri, we were travelling at the stately clip of 10 runs an over and impatiently awaiting the invention of the quantum calculator to help us keep up with the score.

Macca came out to join Maxi and the scoring continued apace. We were scoring more often than a junkie at a Kings Cross Black Friday sale. Faster than you could say, “there are no toilets at this ground and I have a weak bladder, let me urinate behind this tree”, the two Ms had each reached half centuries and we were well on our way to a cricket score.

As elder statesmen of the club, we take seriously the role of promoting and nurturing young players. Not only do we occasionally select them, but we sometimes throw a few balls to them on the sidelines or let them bowl an over or two in the nets after the game. Mainly, however, we let them field. And pick up the boundary cones at the end of the day.

This week we selected young Lyle House, a cricketing apprentice of whom we knew little. Batting him at four was a big ask but we relished the prospect of taking him aside and imparting our hard-won wisdom when he inevitably failed. Clearly nervous at the opportunity he had been afforded – and of several sniping teammates resentfully languishing later in the order – Lyle lofted the second delivery he faced straight into mid off’s waiting hands. Angry at him for squandering this precious opportunity, we turned away in disgust before turning back just in time to watch the fielder ruefully fetching the ball from over the boundary.

Skye seemed to have tipped their fielders out of an old Freddie Trueman’s Test Match box. Apparently fixed to their patch of green felt, they continually allowed balls to roll straight past their feet over the boundary while dropping more balls than a drunk one-armed juggler.

Fifty or so balls later, Lyle had his middle stump removed for 139. Angry at him for squandering a solid start, we turned away in disgust and made sure not to clap as he departed the field. This would serve as a valuable lesson. Still, with a couple more seasons in the fifths under his belt, young Lyle promises to be a valuable thirds cricketer for the club for many years to come.

While Lyle was helping Skye acquaint themselves with the geography of the surrounding streets, Paul was at the other end playing an uncharacteristically sedate role in their partnership of nearly 150. Upon Lyle’s departure, he blossomed briefly, like a desert flower after unseasonable rain, before the square leg umpire was called upon once more to reset the stumps.

This brought Hobbsy to the wicket, nursing a carefully curated batting average of 100. Russ has more not outs than a serial killer applying for parole; more red ink than a dyslexic’s spelling test. In the event, his handy 41 not out both boosted his average and helped us to the grand total of 5/371 – to paraphrase Hot Chocolate, everyone was a winner.

It was now time to implement Operation Dervo. D. Dervan has scored nearly 50% of Skye’s runs this season, including a punishing unbeaten century when Skye comfortably defeated us pre-Christmas. With Skye chasing 372, Operation Dervo simply involved removing our nemesis for anything below 186. With Dervo on 20, Macca seduced him into aiming for one of the windscreens arrayed alluringly along the mid-on boundary and Matt took the excellent catch.

Skye lost heart quickly, falling so far behind the run rate that we even let Coxy warm up. Fortunately, we had 10 actual cricketers in the side, among whom Macca’s 4/18 off 8 on the Victoria Park postage stamp was definitely worth the cost of a letter home. Brian was almost as frugal, with the added bonus of managing to get himself called a “stupid old c*** by an overwrought departing batsman.

Mt. Eliza 5/371: L. House 139; C. McDonough 54; S. Maxwell 53; R. Hobbs 41 no; P. Goddard 39

Skye 187: C. McDonough 4/18; P. Goddard 1/7; B. Fox 1/26; B. Macpherson 1/41; L. House 1/42

Round 12 | Hastings v Mt Eliza | Win

In the absence of in form skipper Phil Leonard (holidaying in Mallacoota) and co-ordinator Andrew Cox (hiking in the high country), our mighty XI was down to just nine mid-week.

But rising to the occasion, stand-in skip Chris McDonough made a couple of phone calls and happily announced to all that we were right.

Come game day Euen Fox and one Lyle House showed up, Macca having picked up Lyle on the way through. It was Housey’s first game back with us for several years and what a game he played!

Foxy was excellent and the big fella even better with 49 from about 20 balls and then four for 12 with his sliding leggies. He took 30 from one over with some of the most ferocious hitting seen outside the Big Bash.

Skipper Macca made his second ton of the summer and first with the fifths, his 115 coming from 25 overs.  He hit eight 6s and the ground wasn’t small.

Top order pair Bernie Cooper and Charlie Maxwell’s Dad also chipped in with some nice runs as we careered to 260-odd from our 40 – having been sent into bat.

We took early wickets, and then ran through them in a hurry, Macca’s stunning one hander at mid wicket giving Bergs a third wicket.

Hastings checked out about halfway through and we dismissed them for 55, our second big win in a row. And they’d made almost 300 the previous week.

Our catching was again good, the tall fella at first slip again taking a couple and Bernie pocketed two himself at  deep mid on.

‘Housey’ says his reappearance was just a one off. It was a privilege to be out there with him – KP

Round 11 | Mt Eliza v Long Island | Win

Awaiting report

Round 10 | Mt Eliza v Pines | Win

Awaiting report

Round 9 | Carrum Downs v Mt Eliza | Win

We arrived in Seaford for the inaugural Carrum Downs Kindergarten All Stars vs Mt. Eliza Home for the Aged and Infirm XI charity match, hoping to raise enough slow-medium half volleys to build our first win of the year. Selection was confined to those with an up-to-date Working with Children check, given the opposition had a median age of 7. After a short play on the monkey bars, our captain won his first toss for the season. Turns out, he’d been confused by the whole heads/tails duopoly and had been calling “thorax” all year.

Phil has a decidedly Sweatshoppian approach to batting – he loves to make children work – and began fastening the pads to his spindly legs with gusto. With Maxi nursing two busted hamstrings and a dose of long Covid that he stoically declared a “head cold”, Macca volunteered to partner Phil at the top of the order. Macca has a decidedly Play Schoolian approach to batting – he loves to teach children a lesson – and strode purposefully out to the centre to lead a class in “Smash You All Over the Park 101”.

Unfortunately, the kids were sidelined early doors and our openers had to face the new ball against a couple of fit, competent-looking adults. No matter; the run rate was soon higher than Bob Marley at a Nimbin dinner party as we careened towards a massive score. By the time Macca had fallen for a brrmm brrmm car 35 and Phil for a choo choo train 65, we were two for a number that none of our opposition had yet learned to count to.

Two down, however, required caution, and Rug set about building a careful picket fence designed to keep the Carrum Downs kids out of the yard. The sun fell lower in the sky, eyelids drooped, drool issued from slackening jaws. When we awoke, it was 2055, people were flying around in jet packs and Rug had just made his third half century in four innings.

After Matt fell for a 16 composed purely of binary numbers, Ken – playing Carrum Downs’ slightly scary great grandad – joined Rug. With the finish line drawing near, the two dug the spurs into the metaphorical horse, carrying us quickly to 4/235 cc and a small animal rights demonstration.

By now, half our team was mortally wounded. Groins rent asunder like Antarctic ice shelves disintegrating under a warming climate; knees exploded like baked beans left too long in the microwave; hamstrings pinging like phones on a recently landed plane taxiing to the terminal. As we prepared to bowl, the entire team seemed to be in the slips cordon – including the bowlers. Playing the orderly in the battlefield medical tent, Phil triaged our fielders and those deemed least likely to die anytime in the next 40 overs were sent to the outfield.

Belvedere Oval no. 3 soon took on an aspect of the African savannah as our apex-predator bowling attack mauled the frightened gazelles at 22 yards. Macca, Paul, Jason, Brett – all emerged from successful bowling spells with blood-tinged mouths, having torn at the flesh of the broken carcass of our hapless prey. Fielding, meanwhile, required agonising feats of geriatric gymnastics, causing more grunts and groans than the set of an adult film production.

Probably nothing typified the heroism of this win for the ages better than Wayne’s effort late in Carrum Downs’ innings. With 3 overs to go and the opposition needing north of 120 to win, it would only take 100 or so no balls and wides and we’d be in real danger of losing. As the batsman nudged the ball to short mid wicket and prepared to run, Wayne hurled himself sideways, smothering the ball, denying the single and preventing the required run rate from dipping under 40 an over. Unfortunately, he also fractured his shoulder in the process. All gags aside, best of luck with the recovery Wayne, we hope to have you back before long.

Mt. Eliza: 4/235 cc. R. Hobbs 76 n.o., P. Leonard 65, C. McDonough 35, K. Piesse 20 n.o.

Carrum: 9/120 cc. C. McDonough 3/21, P. Goddard 2/13, J. Ross 1/18, B. Macpherson 1/27

Round 8 | Mt Eliza v Pearcedale | Loss

This was our second date with Pearcedale for the season. In truth, we hadn’t much enjoyed the first, so we ghosted them. But then they slid into our DMs and said they wanted to hook up. By the time they were sending us dick pics, we knew we had to set this straight.

They batted and took up where they left off in Round 1 – ordering the most expensive stuff on the menu, mainly lots of fluky shots landing just out of the despairing fielder’s grasp. Just as the openers were eyeing off dessert, one of them popped up a simple chance, the ball arcing gently to mid off, straight into the fielder’s hands. One for…

Wait, what? Time seemed to freeze as the ball hit Coxy’s hands at the speed of a dead butterfly falling onto a pillow, breaking through them with the force of an emphysemic infant trying to blow out a birthday candle, before thudding into his midsection with the impact of a gentle breeze ruffling a newspaper and dribbling onto the ground.

It seemed impossible that the laws of physics could have been violated in this way; impossible that the blank pitilessness of chance had put the one in 8 billion humans unable to take this catch here, on this day, on this field, in our team.

We cursed the Fates for burdening us with this maladapted assemblage of atoms stuffed inside some ill-fitting cricket whites but quickly gathered ourselves. Where to hide him on the field? Several favoured hiding him at the bottom of Port Phillip Bay in a pair of concrete cricket shoes but we settled on square leg and tried to forget about him.

Pearcedale’s innings bore on like a badly acted school play that no one has the courage to leave. Ken removed a couple and combined with Jason for a neat run out. The SS Pearcedale was listing ever so slightly. Captain Nepotism brought his son on, a move that bore almost instant fruit as the batsman miscued a shot to leg, the ball tracing a benign parabola against the clear blue sky to the waiting fieldsman. Five for…

Wait, what? Time seemed to run backwards as the ball eluded Coxy’s hands with all the subtlety of a bear in a fake moustache trying to get into a nightclub, crashing with a hollow thud into the cavity where his heart should have been, and dropping mockingly to the ground. He then thrashed around in search of the ball with the grace of a dying fish on a river bank while the opposition ran 6 or 7. This time we just let him stew in his abject humiliation, not even checking to see if he was done.

At compulsory closure, Pearcedale had a good 50 more than they would have got if we’d played with 10 men. We went to afternoon tea hating Coxy but were careful not to hurt his feelings, telling him only that we “didn’t like him that much”.

We set out after the target of 240 in reasonable fashion, Phil, Harper, Russell and Paul all getting good starts but only Russell converting his into anything of much help to us. Still, when A. Madhumohan had his only over thrashed for 24, our prospects flickered briefly into life, like an octogenarian on Viagra catching a glimpse of his wife in long johns.

In the event, our wives had headaches and we spent the rest of the innings watching Seinfeld repeats to the sound of snoring. Now second last on the ladder, we were plumbing depths hitherto unknown in this team’s storied history. From whence was our first win coming?

Mt. Eliza: 5/188 cc. R. Hobbs 62, P. Leonard 39, H. Leonard 30, P. Goddard 18

Pearcedale 5/239 cc. K. Piesse 2/42, B. Macpherson 1/28, P. Goddard 1/47

Round 7 | Mt Eliza v Skye | Loss

Skye rolled up at the ground with the fancy “e” on the end of their name and a side that looked like extras at a MAGA rally. Still, less time in the dentist’s chair means more time in the nets. They won the toss and asked us to bat. Actually, they told us to bat and who were we to argue?

We’d all seen the name D. Dervan on MyCricket and were suitably nervous of his bloated statistical record. He duly opened the bowling and was swifter than a swift flying swiftly on a swift breeze. This dude was quick. Phil, helmetless – an open challenge to Dervan to rearrange his hippocampus into grey soup – wore a couple on the body in between deftly helping the ball over slips for some classy fours. At length, however, he faced a ball with his name on it – a serious lapse in quality control at the Kookaburra factory – and had his middle peg knocked back like a bankrupt sandwich hand applying for a home loan.

Ash came and went quicker than an 18-year-old in a brothel, while Maxi (44) settled in at the other end, looking progressively more comfortable. He was joined by Matt and the two confidently set about rescuing the innings.

Like Houdini escaping a straightjacket, Maxi eventually got himself out, bringing Coxy to the wicket. Someone cued a laugh track and we settled in for a good time, not a long time. After wafting at a couple like Marcel Marceau miming a sword fight, he tried to pull a half volley and stopped by payroll on his way back to the pavilion to pick up his Actors’ Equity cheque.

Matt staunchly saw us near to innings close with 40, aided by young Sam whose 24 not out put some of those higher in the order to shame. Actually, it was just Coxy. He put Coxy to shame.

We took to the field defending 159 and, despite a staunch effort with the ball, simply couldn’t counter Dervo, who careened to an unbeaten 119. At the time of writing (mid-December) he has scored a remarkable 63% of his side’s runs for the season, a testament both to his dauntless skills and to how bog average the rest of the team is.

Mt. Eliza 7/159 cc. S. Maxwell 44, M. Green 40, S. Schonfelder 24 n.o., P. Leonard 18

Skye: 2/168. P. Leonard 1/20, A. Subramaniam 1/49

Round 6 | Seaford v Mt Eliza | Match drawn

The radar was full of red and orange, like Donald Trump’s face in an argument, and the prospect of play augured poorly. Still, even as the thunder rumbled and the first fat drops of rain fell on Seaford North Reserve, South Oval (a geographical quirk that confuses navigationally challenged cricketers to this day), Seaford’s captain appeared bullish about a start.

“We’re here to play cricket”, he said.

We’re here to be incinerated by lightning, we thought, but nodded in compliant agreement.

He called at the toss like a man who has downloaded the MyCricket app and can spot a winless opponent on a smartphone screen from 20 paces. He invited us to bat, savouring a quick kill before the proverbial cigarette paper was even damp.

Thirty overs later, having played through constant rain, we were 1/239. That invitation to bat hadn’t aged well. Now, as the clouds began to part and the rain drizzled to a stop, Seaford decided that they couldn’t possibly continue in such inclement conditions. Five minutes later, they were gone and we were assembling banana lounges on the field to work on our tans. Rarely has such a glorious innings as Phil’s unbeaten 149 been such a complete waste of time.

Mt. Eliza: 1/239 (30 overs). P. Leonard 149 n.o., R. Hobbs 44 n.o., S. Maxwell 35

Round 5 | Mt Eliza v Hastings | Won on forfeit

You can forfeit but you can’t hide Hastings – we know where you live.

Round 4 | Long Island v Mt Eliza | Loss

We repaired to the Havana Crescent wetlands and chartered a glass-bottomed boat to check the pitch. A colony of corroboree frogs told us it was a little damp just short of a good length. Elsewhere it seemed fine, being no more than 18 inches under water. As we contemplated yet another abandoned game, word came through that a comparatively dry oval was free at Wooralla Drive. With the opposition keen, we made quickly for home, excited at the prospect of our first match in three weeks.

Scoring runs on Oval No. 1 was like extracting teeth from a day-old baby – there weren’t many to be found. The ball repeatedly pitched in the sodden turf, stuck fast like fluff in a fat man’s navel. With the bowling accurate, the fielding agile and the scorers disinclined to cheat despite our numerous financial inducements, we struggled to 6/132 off our 40. Well may we say God save Phil Leonard’s 79 because nothing will save the rest of our underwhelming efforts.

We took to the field like kids at a cash-strapped kindergarten: we didn’t have a lot to play with. Still, bowlers and fielders alike worked hard and made like Jeffrey Dahmer running a holiday camp, not letting them get away. Ultimately, it took Long Island 32 overs to pass our modest total, a pseudo victory in a season starkly bereft of actual ones. Four rounds in and we remained winless, convening in the rooms post-match to engage in a vicious round of personal attacks and physical assault, only letting Long Island go when they said sorry.

Mt. Eliza 6/132. P. Leonard 79

Long Island 6/134. C. McDonough 3/22, K. Piesse 1/29, A. Hunter 1/20.

Round 3 | Pines v Mt Eliza | Match abandoned

Stop the steal! Go here: www.MakeThe5thsGreatAgain.com for details on our plan to storm MPCA head office to find the 12 points stolen from us and overturn this result. Fake rain!

Round 2 | Mt Eliza v Carrum Downs | Match abandoned

Go here: www.QAnon.com for an account of how a worldwide cabal of left-wing enviro-industrialists conspired to reverse the Indian Ocean Dipole, prolonging la Niña and causing the rain that washed out this match in a carefully coordinated ploy to deny us the 12 points we were certainly going to win had the game been played.