50th Anniversary – Team of the 70’s and around the grounds
Team of the 70’s and around the grounds
with the 50th anniversary coming up in Astralia, lets take a a look back at the teams of decades that we anounce at the 40th anniversary
The Delacombe Park cricket club team of the 1st Decade 1968/69 -1977/68
|10||Mike Dobson (C)|
|12th Man||Sid King|
The 68-78 side had our 1st hit out ever against Cerberus. Although we thought that they would be good opposition, we were a bit sus about them trying to add to the back half of our creams, particularly when they turned up with “In the Navy” by a new band called the Village People blasting out of their 8 tracks.
Anyway, we were a bit short on players, so a quick door knock of the local area reaped benefits. New players called Rowe, Petrie, Stocker and Francis said that they would fill in as long as the polystyrene pleasure boxes were plentiful with the King Browns after the game.
It was also decided that our club name, “Apex” sounded too much like pimple cream, and no-one knew where the bloody hell Apex was, so for the sake of the simpler minded members of our club who had trouble finding their packs of camels in their shirt sleeves, let alone Apex, we called our side Delacombe Park Cricket Club. Ingenious name. We thought long and hard about that one!!
Anyway, Bill McLorinan wanted to be captain, considering he was part of the self proclaimed “Sensational Six” who started the club, but Mike Dobson said he was doing it, and if anyone thought otherwise, he would give them a doing over. Dobbo had apparently been watching episodes of Cop Shop, and felt that he had the same leadership qualities of the shows star, George Mallaby. He also thought that he had a shot with Paula Duncan, so go figure.
JP didn’t care who was captain, and instead was measuring up the toilet block on the hill. He reckons that he can turn it into some sort of clubrooms, and wants his own special area called the “John Petrie Lounge” in it too. “Delusions of Grandeur” was mumbled amongst the group, but if he gets us in out of the sun, we don’t care if he calls it Vinegar Tits Bar!
Frank Sanders had somehow voted himself in as President. If he is half as good as that Richard Nixon bloke, we are in good hands. What a fantastic leader and visionary Nixon is. Then he voted himself into the team. He would have got a gig anyway, but we think that he wanted to exert his newfound power, and bullied his way into the middle order. Typical Frank, also demanded that we call him “The Colonel”, apparently after some chicken bloke from America.
Anyway when we got onto the ground, we decided that if we were going to make an impact, we would do it with our skill, and also our fashion. Everyone splashed out on the latest white Levi Californians and spiffy looking white business shirts. In keeping with the latest trends, we made sure that there was plenty of chest hair on show and Barry Crabtree had a few spare gold chains in the back of his Torana. We did have a little rethink though when the Cerberus guys started to get a little frisky, and the opening bats were finding it hard to put in their protectors, but if is good enough for the blokiest bloke on the planet, John Wayne, its good enough for us…
It was 43 degrees, and our moustaches were glistening with sweat, but we managed to put together a side. Some whinging Pom called “Nobby” dropped past for a look and said he would have a hit with us, and we were going to let him play, but he took too long padding up from the boot of the car, so we gave him a Tooheys 2.2 and tried to send him on his way. He wouldn’t go though and kept grabbing his balls and mentioning something called the “Mother Ship”. Hope he doesn’t hang around too long.
So in the end, the 11 players that we put together were John Stocker, JP, Barry Crabtree, Eric Heyes, Brian Francis, Gary Kuss, Mel Rowe, Ron Finley, Billy McLorinan, “Colonel” Frank Sanders, and our leader Mike Dobson. There was a gangly kid walking around called Sidney King, and we made him 12th man, because we were stuffed if we were going to be running Marlboro’s out to our batsmen in 43 degree heat!
Unfortunately, Dobbo lost the toss and we had to field. Wasn’t too bad though, because Rowey set up an esky to hang off his back fence full of Fosters, and we took it in turns fielding at deep square leg. We rolled them for 90, which they made in 11 overs. How small is this bloody ground!?? And what was that black shit they put on the pitch?? Gary Kuss said it was called Thyroid or something, but he was at deep square leg for an over more than he should have been, so we thought that he might be talking out of his ass.
Brian Francis was tearing in like Lenny Pascoe, and at one stage was on a hattrick at the end of an over. For some unbelievable reason, Kussy demanded that he have a spell and that was it for our mate with a first name as a last name! This will get talked about for years to come I reckon. Big Bustling Brian went off his nut and when I say he was Kussing, he wasn’t calling Gary’s sir name!
Crabtree cleaned up. We don’t know if it was because he scared the Bejesus out of Cerberus, or that they were watching the wrong ball as Barry came bounding in. Crabbers, you really need to do something about that camel toe…
When we batted, Stocks and JP opened up, and fair dinkum, it was like watching paint dry. JP couldn’t hit it off the square. When the square is 14 feet from the bat, it was a rubbish effort. Eric Heyes and Ron Finley were bored shitless and went down to The Mall, to get the Fosters for the after game sip, and the Colonel started writing speeches. What for?? Bloody Frank is taking this presidency too far in my book! After Sir Eric and Atomic Ron got back with the browns, Kussy got stuck into the Seamen (who were, ironically, all in white), and started to sledge like a Vines Hotel barmaid. Billy Mc thought it was a classic and demanded that Reg Grundy replace Strop on the Paul Hogan Show with Gary. Dobbo thought that this was ludicrous as Strop and Ugly Dave Gray were both geniuses in his book.
40 overs later, JP and Stocks got us over the line. About bloody time. Dobbo said it was his captaincy that won us the game, the Colonel said we couldn’t have won without his superb presidency, and Kussy said something inspirational but he was too pissed at that stage to understand what actually came out of his mouth. Crabtree said to cut the shit then demanded that everybody stop with the backslapping and dig into the pockets to buy cricket bats from his boot. Dunno if he knocked them off from Merritt Hassett in Frankston, but he suspiciously had quite a few lying around!
In truth, we won the game because 2 local turds were throwing rocks at the opposition from the car park and Cerberus ended up with about 4 concussions. Young Rogerson and Lang should be commended for their ingenuity!
Man of the match goes to Ron Finley. Anyone who could carry a dozen cartons of Fosters on his shoulders so the boys didn’t go thirsty is tops in our book!
Honourable mention goes to Bill McLorinan. Although he did stuff all on the ground, he won 4th division in Tatts last week and said that he would pay for the piss. That’s it, he’s getting Life Membership!!
Next week we have Heatherhill from up the road. Apparently, they are a tough bunch, but in all honesty, do they really think that brown looks good with yellow? Might be a good mix in the crapper, but not on a cricket hat! We reckon that the Colonels maroon valour trim in his yellow Valiant looks a treat, so we decided that’ll do us.
Anyway, it is us against the shit lids. At least Ron and Eric wont have a long walk to get the grog again. Hopefully that Nobby bloke will stay away though. He keeps saying “Aw Right”. It’s driving us bloody mad!!