Championship Dash

by Michael Panckridge

  ‘Allunga, will you be staying here forever now?’ Joy asked. Everyone stopped and turned to look at Allunga.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Allunga replied softly.

  ‘But will you come to school next year?’

  ‘Maybe. I’m just not really sure.’

  ‘But why are you here?’ Camden couldn’t help himself.

  Allunga opened her mouth then closed it.

  ‘Come on, leave her alone,’ Emmi demanded. ‘We’re here to play cricket, not get Allunga’s life story.’

  ‘So, do you bowl pace or spin?’ Joy asked.

  ‘Now, that’s a better question.’ Allunga grinned. ‘I’m happy to bowl spin or pace.’

  ‘Okay, positions, everyone,’ Camden called. ‘Bojing, you bat, Allunga bowls, Joy is wicky and the rest of us in the field. Grab what you need, everyone, and let’s get going!’

  Friday morning

  Allunga bowled a gentle medium-paced delivery and it bounced over the plastic stumps that Barnsey had found in his shed at home. Joy managed to catch the ball cleanly in her oversized gardening gloves.

  ‘Nice take, Joy,’ Allunga said. ‘Remember to keep your fingers pointing down until you feel the ball in your hand, yeah?’ Everyone stopped momentarily. It was the first time something encouraging had ever been said at training.

  ‘Okay,’ Joy said, blushing as she looked at her gloves. Pointing them downwards, she pretended to gather an invisible ball into her hands.

  ‘I’ll bowl spin, so you can come right up behind the stumps,’ Allunga added.

  ‘Here?’ Joy asked nervously. ‘Right next to the stumps?’

  ‘No, Joy, she means behind the dunnies,’ Emmi said, groaning. ‘Why do we have to have five-year-olds playing, anyway?’

  ‘I’m not five,’ Joy snapped.

  ‘That’s it, right there,’ Allunga confirmed, watching Joy move into position before placing the ball down on the middle of the pitch and walking calmly over to Emmi.

  The others gathered in, but not quickly enough to hear what she said.

  ‘We will never win anything if we don’t work together as a team,’ Allunga said softly, not taking her eyes from Emmi’s face.

  ‘What does it matter? We won’t win anyway,’ Emmi snapped back.

  ‘But we’ll try, won’t we? There are plenty of things we can’t control but your mouth is one thing that you can. And while there are two teams out there, you’re always in with a chance.’

  ‘Who are you?’ Emmi gasped. ‘Where are you from? And why have you suddenly appeared here?’ Emmi gestured with her hand.

  ‘It’s a bit of a long story,’ Allunga said, gazing off into the distance. ‘But I’m here and I want to help. Is that okay?’

  ‘Whatever,’ Emmi mumbled under her breath.

  Every time someone did something good, Allunga was quick to offer praise and it didn’t take long for the rest of the team to catch on. Suddenly, the fielding was tighter and the bowling a bit more accurate.

  The team had been playing for almost an hour when Allunga dashed off towards the far side of the ground.

  A few moments later, Allunga was jogging back towards them, a small hunk of red rock in her hand.

  ‘Are you guys okay with me doing this?’ Allunga asked, squatting near the batter’s crease.

  ‘Doing what?’ Emmi asked. The team settled in around her.

  ‘I think she’s going to draw a picture,’ Pickles said.

  ‘I read this in a book,’ Allunga said, scratching a huge red ‘V’ on the pitch. ‘And it works for me.’

  ‘Then it’ll work for us,’ Joy said eagerly.

  ‘I hope so.’ Allunga smiled, drawing a third line directly out from the middle stump towards the bowler. ‘So, you guys are really good with the back foot shots, but I think we all need to get better with our front foot shots, me included. Emmi, you be the batter and I’ll show you what I mean.’

  Emmi took the bat and settled into her stance, while Allunga jogged to a spot half way down the pitch.

  ‘I’m going to throw it and, Emmi, you have to step forwards, down one of the lines and drive the ball, yeah?’

  ‘How do I know which line?’ Emmi asked.

  ‘Pick the line that will get your front foot to the ball the quickest. It’s like you’re trying to hit the ball with your foot.’

  ‘Isn’t that what the bat’s for?’ Barnsey asked, puzzled.

  ‘Yes, but you’ve got to get to the ball first, and this is a really smart way when the ball is pitched up.’

  ‘And what if it’s not pitched up?’ Barnsey asked.

  ‘Then you get on the back foot like you guys all do and smash it for four,’ Allunga said.

  Following the middle line, Emmi thrust her front foot out as close as she could to where the ball hit the pitch. Her bat followed and she hit it crisply back past Allunga.

  ‘All right,’ Emmi said, nodding. ‘That felt good.’

  ‘You can hit it as hard as you like if you’re right to the pitch of the ball. It should go along the ground, so there’s no chance of getting caught.’

  Emmi stuck her left leg out along the angled line to the next delivery and again struck it cleanly.

  For an hour, the players took turns at the batting crease while Allunga patiently tossed ball after ball. Some got it faster than others. Barnsey had great footwork but tended to loft the ball; Camden and Pickles were also quick to pick up the line but tended to be more gentle; Charlie and Krisso each got an extra turn and were showing definite signs of improvement while Joy and Bojing both agreed to have a couple of extra practices at home to work on their batting skills. Emmi and Phoebe were the quickest to show their talent and it was decided that they would be the openers.

  ‘What about you, Allunga?’ Phoebe asked. The sun had risen, quickly burning away the coolness of the morning.

  ‘Oh, that’s okay,’ Allunga said. ‘I can bat tonight.’

  ‘Awesome,’ Emmi said. ‘Those Eagles won’t know what hit ’em.’

  Friday evening

  The Galahs and Eagles took it in turns to stage the Zone Championships and this year it was Kangaroo Flat’s turn to host. The afternoon before the big game, the local residents started preparing for the occasion. There was no expectation the Galahs would actually win – even with the news that the new arrival had improved the team and they were training almost three hours a day. No matter the result, the Kangaroo Flat residents were always proud of their young cricketers.

  The reserve was a flurry of activity. Marquee tents were erected; the toilets were given a good clean out; the barbecues were scrubbed; new bark was poured into the playground; and the dusty, gravel roads surrounding the oval were watered, levelled and raked.

  The team returned in the cool of the evening to discover a transformed reserve. The effort the locals had made for the big game filled the Galahs with pride and determination for their final training session.

  One after another, they worked on their batting, bowling and fielding. Soon it wasn’t just Allunga offering advice and encouragement. Even Emmi was seeing the benefit of praise and being supportive.

  The extra practices were highlighting each players’ strengths. It was discovered that Barnsey and Charlie could both throw the ball enormous distances, so they patrolled the boundary lines at mid-wicket and deep cover respectively. Camden, super observant and quick to point out weaknesses in people’s batting technique, would field in slips.

  They were finally working together, as teammates. Now, every time a run was scored, the batters called, using their voices rather than scampering off up the pitch. Players in the field learnt how to backup so that, if Joy or the bowler missed the ball, there was someone else to cover. The bowling too was much more consistent with fewer wides being bowled.

  Just as the team was finishing up, Farmer McKenzie arrived, a cloud of red dust ballooning out from behind his rusty ute as he screeched to a halt by the oval’s edge.

  ‘Galahs! I hav
e got some big news for you!’ Farmer McKenzie cried, grabbing a huge cardboard box from the tray of his ute.

  The children watched as their coach ripped open the top of a large box and started hauling out shirts, gloves, bats, balls, pads and wickets. Ten pairs of eager hands reached out to take the new equipment.

  ‘Listen up, everyone,’ Farmer McKenzie said with a huge grin, holding up an official-looking piece of paper. ‘This is from the Perth Scorchers. “To the Kangaroo Flat Galahs, congratulations! You have been selected to receive sponsorship for this year’s Zone Championships.”’

  ‘Wow! I can’t believe the Perth Scorchers are sponsoring us!’ Camden said, stunned.

  ‘This is awesome,’ Bojing cried, putting on one of the shirts. It was covered in the Perth Scorchers bright orange colours with flames whooshing out from the shoulders.

  ‘There’s more!’ Farmer McKenzie continued. ‘“We know you’ll wear the Perth Scorchers tops with pride. We are hopeful of being able to get to your Zone match against Edenhope. Good luck, Galahs!”’

  Joy gasped. ‘They’re coming to watch us play?’

  ‘This is so cool,’ Camden breathed, his eyes wide.

  ‘This is a dream come true!’ Joy exclaimed, dropping the bat she was unwrapping as a brand new pair of wicketkeeping gloves fell out of the box. ‘Oh, look!’ she squealed, clutching the package to her chest.

  Farmer McKenzie beamed. ‘They’re yours, love.’

  ‘Thank you, Macka,’ she cried, slipping a glove over her hand. ‘They fit perfectly!’

  ‘What’s wrong, Krisso?’ Emmi asked. Krisso was eying the orange tops warily.

  ‘I can’t wear those,’ he said.

  Allunga laughed, spinning a new bat in her hands. ‘You and me.’

  ‘Why not?’ Joy asked. ‘We’re going to be Perth Scorchers.’

  ‘What’s got into you, Krisso?’ Phoebe asked.

  ‘I-I don’t barrack for Perth Scorchers,’ he said quietly.

  ‘You what?’ Emmi spluttered. ‘Of course you do. Everyone living in Kangaroo Flat barracks for the Perth Scorchers.’

  ‘Hey, settle, petal,’ Farmer McKenzie said, turning to glare at Emmi. ‘Krisso can barrack for whoever he likes.’ Farmer McKenzie coughed. ‘So, who do you barrack for, son?’

  ‘Melbourne Renegades.’

  ‘What the –’

  ‘Emmi,’ Farmer McKenzie barked.

  ‘Why?’ Phoebe asked, pulling the Perth Scorchers top over her head.

  ‘My dad and grandpa come from Melbourne and I guess I followed them.’

  ‘Aaron Finch is awesome,’ Camden acknowledged.

  ‘Yeah,’ Phoebe agreed. ‘Molly Strano is pretty talented too.’

  ‘Don’t forget Grace Harris,’ Allunga added.

  ‘Yeah, whatever. You’ve got to wear the shirt,’ Emmi said, thrusting it into Krisso’s hands. ‘If you don’t play, we’re down to nine players, and if we’re down to nine, we’ve got no hope.’

  Krisso took the top, holding it at arm’s length.

  ‘It hasn’t got a disease,’ Emmi muttered.

  Another cloudless day greeted the residents of Kangaroo Flat on the morning of the Zone Championship. As in previous years, by nine o’clock the small township had shut down for the day as the locals made their way to the reserve for the annual cricket match.

  ‘Something’s different,’ Mr Lucas, the town’s real estate agent, muttered to his wife, as he turned their car into the reserve.

  ‘Malcolm, we’re going to win this year,’ his wife said.

  ‘Of course we’re not,’ Mr Lucas said, searching for a spot to park. Their only son had played for the team 13 years ago and they hadn’t missed a game since.

  Kangaroo Flat Reserve was looking the best it had looked in years. There were food and drink stalls, huge canvas tents, banners, flags, balloons and even a mini grandstand that someone had brought in on the back of a truck. Cars were parked around the oval, the place was packed. The smell of cooking meat drifted across the ground as the teams lined up for photos.

  ‘Good to see you, Krisso,’ Emmi said, slapping him on the back. Smiling sheepishly, Krisso lifted his shirt to reveal a bright red Renegades top.

  ‘Dad says it’s cool. I’m wearing the team I love closest to my heart.’

  Emmi nodded and grinned. ‘That works.’

  ‘Everyone, we’re batting,’ Allunga said, as she joined the group for the photo. Wearing a Perth Scorchers shirt didn’t seem to bother her, even though she was also a Melbourne Renegades supporter.

  ‘So, we lost the toss?’ Camden asked.

  ‘We lost the toss,’ Allunga confirmed.

  ‘And their coach refused our request for them to only play ten,’ Farmer McKenzie added, his face dark.

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ Allunga said. ‘They deserve to play with 11; that’s what a cricket team is. Now, here’s the batting order: Emmi, Bojing, Phoebe, myself, Charlie, Camden. It might change, depending on what happens, okay?’

  The players nodded nervously.

  As the Galahs openers strode out to the wicket in their new Perth Scorchers uniforms, they were greeted enthusiastically by a chorus of loud honking cars.

  Emmi took her guard, smiling as she noticed the faint outline of the red ‘V’, still visible on the pitch.

  ‘C’mon, Stevo,’ the Eagles wicketkeeper called. ‘I wanna get back home for a swim this arvo. Let’s get this over and done with quicker than last year.’

  ‘That’d be about 30 minutes, wouldn’t it?’ one of the slip fielders sniggered.

  ‘Tops,’ another fielder said, edging a few paces closer to Emmi.

  Saturday morning

  ‘Play,’ called the umpire.

  Licking her dry lips and taking one last glance around the field, Emmi settled over her bat. ‘Play it as you see it,’ she whispered to herself as the Eagles opening bowler charged in. It was on line with the off stump. Planting her foot firmly down the ‘V’, Emmi met the ball with the full face of the bat. It came off sweetly, striking the fielder who’d crept in closer flush on the shinbone.

  ‘Ow!’ he hollered, dropping to the ground, clutching his leg.

  ‘Yes,’ Emmi called, scampering through for a quick single. The ball had ricocheted behind point but the fielders were paying more attention to their injured teammate. ‘Yes,’ Emmi cried again, scuttling back down the pitch for a second.

  Finally, the ball was retrieved.

  ‘Might be ten versus ten, after all,’ Farmer McKenzie muttered, shaking his head. ‘Poor lad. Emmi sure got a hold of that. Sounded like a bloomin’ rifle shot.’

  He and the rest of the team watched as the boy was helped off the field.

  It didn’t take long for the Eagles to realise that this was a very different Kangaroo Flat Galahs cricket team than the one they were used to playing. Emmi and Bojing made a steady and confident start to the innings, putting on 35 runs in only six overs before Emmi was caught at deep cover for 25. Car horns tooted and the spectators clapped as she trudged off the field.

  ‘I could have batted right the way through the innings,’ she mumbled crossly.

  ‘Hey, it’s a great start, Emmi,’ Allunga said. ‘It’s just what we needed.’

  A cry erupted from the pitch.

  ‘That’s not,’ Camden said. Phoebe had been clean-bowled for a duck. ‘Hey, your gloves,’ he yelled, running after Allunga, who was striding purposefully to the wicket.

  ‘I’m okay, Camden,’ she smiled, twirling the bat in her hand.

  ‘But you need pads, Allunga. You need something?’

  ‘No, really,’ Allunga said, ‘I’m okay. I never wear gloves or pads when I bat.’

  Allunga played each shot with the grace and authority of someone much older. Her timing was exquisite. She didn’t hit many boundaries but always managed to find gaps in the field so that dot balls became twos and sometimes threes.

  ‘Amazing,’ people gasped, getting out of their cars for a
closer view of the action. The Eagles players and supporters had gone quiet as the runs accumulated.

  Not used to the pressure, the Eagles captain was struggling to stay calm, shouting instruction after instruction at his fielders and confusing them even further. The only worry for the Galahs was that they were losing wickets at regular intervals at the other end.

  With the score on six for 93, Camden walked out to bat. There were only three overs left to be bowled, but he was determined to remain not out, giving as much of the strike to Allunga as possible.

  ‘Shouldn’t she be retiring?’ one of the Eagles fielders complained to the umpire.

  The official shook his head. ‘No retirements required in zone games,’ he replied. ‘Plus, I reckon there’d be a riot from the locals if we sent her off.’

  ‘Is it legal to bat without gloves and pads?’ another fielder asked.

  ‘That might be an issue in Perth, but I got no problems with it here,’ the other umpire stated. ‘Now, let’s get on with this.’

  Camden pushed and prodded, using Allunga’s faded red lines to guide his feet to the ball. He couldn’t believe how much easier batting had become for him.

  As he walked off after the 20 allotted overs, Camden stole a look at the little black scoreboard near the boundary. The Galahs had made six for 127. Camden knew all the scores and records achieved by the Galahs over the years. It was the highest Zone Championship total the team had ever made.

  Car horns started up their honking again and half-eaten sandwiches lay curling in the hot sun as the Kangaroo Flat crowd surged forwards to where the team was gathered. Only Fatty Bumbar hung back, trotting over to vacated picnic blankets to do some tidying up.

  ‘Wonderful!’ Farmer McKenzie beamed, eyeing his team with a completely new regard. ‘You guys have improved out of sight. And you all look awesome in your uniforms!’

  ‘We haven’t won yet,’ Emmi said, taking a drink from a bright orange Perth Scorchers water bottle.

  ‘Emmi’s right,’ Allunga agreed. ‘We’ve got the runs on the board, but we still need to take ten wickets.’

  ‘Nine,’ Charlie corrected. ‘If that kid with the bruised leg doesn’t bat.’