Martin Ralph

(aka Ralphy, Ralphbo, Ralphbobbins. Debut 1985/86, matches 256, 4903 runs @ 20.26, H/S 100*, 17 fifties, 1 ton, 363 wkts @ 18.99, best 6/46, 4 five wkt hauls. Club’s President 1992/3-1997/8, Secretary 1986/7, Captain 1sts 1986/7-1992/3, 2nds 2003/04 Awarded Life membership in 1993).

“The Prologue

I have always wanted to do this, ever since watching Frankie Howard in Up Pompeii.

The 1998 / 99 season was my 15th year with the University Cricket Club. Since my inauspicious debut in 1983 / 84, I have been fortunate enough to be a part of some tremendous games, witness some memorable moments, and be associated with some truly remarkable characters. Trying to reflect on 15 seasons is not easy, particularly for someone who has problems remembering yesterday, but here goes. Quite selfishly, I have no other option but to recall those moments that happened around me – particularly those that happened during games. This is by no means a complete collection of the Club memorable moments, which I hope will be suitably covered by others. For those moments, and the characters who were significant in them that I omit, please accept my most humble apologies in advance …

1983 /84 – The debut games

I was enticed to join the Club by Bruce Hartley who had just helped me get my first job in Perth. After having left the thriving metropolis of Kalgoorlie, via Roxby Downs, which was in those days a drilling camp 80km west of Woomera, Perth was a frightening place for a country lad.

Bruce, who was an inaugral member of the Club, left me in no doubt that the Club existed as a reason for summer bonding for the University Rugby Club. His way of introducing me was – “this is Marty – I think he will make a great second rower”. Having played a fair bit of cricket, but not a lot of rugby, I remember struggling to recall where on a cricket field second row was.

I debuted in the 2nd side, which was then under the leadership of Bill McGrath. During the season, I had the pleasure of meeting such reputable characters as Damien O’Donnell, Neil Munro, John Cannings, Brian Eckhart and Bill Cookson. There was not too many memorable moments in the early years – in my first season the 2nd side, playing in the fourth grade (which, from memory was the lowest grade) finished eighth (which from memory was last). My efforts contributed greatly to the season’s results – 3 games, 43 runs (at the healthy average of 8.6), 6 wickets at 11 runs apiece – maybe I should have stopped my bowling career there. I honestly cannot remember my first over or my first runs.

In 84/85, the 2nd side was captained by Damien O’Donnell, who proved to be a truly inspirational leader. Three remarkable memories flood back to me from that season. The first was witnessing Damien, fresh from a 15 hour session at the nightclub, without sleep and looking remarkably unwell, arriving at the ground with 5 minutes to spare for a match at Brittania 1. After losing the toss, we bowled - Damien opened, with the wind. The first over which was a mixture of wides and full tosses (with some wide full tosses) thankfully finished, and Damien took up a position at blurry fine leg. A precise piece of pre-planning had allowed him to strategically place a bottle of coke at the boundary. Standing at cover I remember thinking lucky bastard as he cracked the bot. Then just as the into the wind bowler was about to let his first delivery go I heard this moan from hell, and looking up saw Damien heaving his guts up. Undeterred he came on to bowl the third over, and repeated the act during the fourth over of the day.

The second memory is also courtesy of Damien. We were playing at Forrest Park, next to the bowling green. I am confident that I witnessed Damiens’ only career six. While trying to avoid a short fast delivery, the ball caught the shoulder of the bat and flew the requisite 40 metres to carry the bowling club fence. Being a left hander and having no such opportunity, I remember thinking ‘lucky bastard’

That game also provided my third memory. We were playing Macedonia or Hellenic, and our bowlers were getting fairly flogged. Next thing a ruckus breaks out in the batting camp. Then two of the batting team commence an all in blue, in which a knife is pulled … seems some guy wanted to get promoted up the batting order, and his chum objected – gives you some idea of the potency of the attack when the opposition try to kill each other in order to have a go at our bowling.

Given the fact that they are the stand out memories it wouldn’t be too hard to guess that again the fourth grade managed to finish stone dead motherless last.

1985/86 was memorable for two big reasons – the first – I managed to convince Murray Buzza to join the club. The second was a low point in my dedication (?) to the Club. In the first week of a two week game we batted first, were comfortably bowled out and had to bowl to the opposition for an hour or more. During the week I got an offer every young single man dreams of – a bonk fest, but back in the home town of Kalgoorlie. Now what would you do? I took the easy option – and in the process missed the second week of the game. One or two of my team mates also didn’t show – the remnants of the team bowled all day in blistering heat and chased an awful lot of leather. Damien was devastated by my no-show. The outcome – in true University tradition, I was dropped from the second side into the first team. For the first time I joined the ranks of Millar, Bickerton, Osborne, Harman, Foulds and Allen. Some of these guys impressed me no end – but not in terms of their cricketing prowess. In my first game, while waiting for my turn to bat, Warwick Allen (who incidentally was a damn fine keeper) produced a couple of the most hard-core porn magazines I had ever seen. Half the side were reluctant to go into bat for fear of missing some of the pictures, while the rest of us had no problems in surrendering our wickets in order to obtain the best seats. Square leg umpire was left vacant for most of the match.

Porn aside, my presence in the team had its’ usual effect – we finished last – a season that I am sure the skipper of that year Tom Osborne will review in his memoirs.

My one enormous memory of that season was playing in a weekend match against the Deaf Club, at Brittania #2. We had a rugby player from Nedlands in our side, Barry xxx, who was pretty sharpish, but struggled to find the batsmans half of the pitch. The Deaf Club bunnies kicked our butt that game – but the high point was when their number 11 batsmen strode to the crease. The first ball he faced Barry bent his back, and the ball fizzed over the batsman’s head. Now remember. Now remember that this was in the days before helmets became popular – when the batsman dropped his head and started waving to his mates under the trees we didn’t have the foggiest what he was on about. He started uttering these guteral noises, a little like two bears shagging in the woods. We started to laugh amongst ourselves – his mates couldn’t hear him no matter how loudly he growled. Finally this guy throws down his bat and storms off the field – we didn’t have a clue what was going on – but he then re-emerged helmeted. Next ball Barry got a rare one into the batsmans half and cleaned him up. The moment was all ours.

The Wonder Years (?)

I guess that figuring that things couldn’t get much worse, (and Tom had taken a year off) the Exec appointed me skipper of the first team for the 1986 / 87 season. I immediately took on the task by convincing players of the ilk of Greg Hewson, Mal Mackie, Dwayne Moulton, Neil McGurk, Des Hutchinson and my brother Phil to join the Club. Phil brought along a fairly decent player in the form of Mark Miller, and we also scored a useful walk past player Paul Verburg.

Hewson won the Association bowling award that year, and Miller the Association batting award. The rest of us didn’t have to do much, but with ‘Spack’ Mackie who was arguably the quickest bowler in the grade, Muzza, McGurk , Verburg, Colin Crammond and myself in the middle order, we were competitive to say the least.

This season was a watershed – my first as skipper, and we won more than we lost. It was during this season that I developed my infamous hat tossing habit. During a game early in the season some unfortunate soul dropped a catch off my bowling, and received a substantial barrage of verbal abuse (believe me it was substantial!). Afterwards I received some ‘advice’ from Warwick Allen – any more behaviour like that and he would cut off my access to his porn collection. The verbals stopped – replaced by the much less vocal cap toss. I never realised how feared the toss was until a very drunk Lips confessed to me one night that he had nightmares about it!

The oddest thing happened that season. With Hewson, Hartley, Hutchinson, McGurk and myself playing for the Club we happened to have cornered the most erudite collection of health physicists in the country. This might not mean much to most folks, however in years to come, people would travel the globe to hear the mutterings of that terrible fivesome. We met 3 times a week and happily chatted about uranium mining, the Chernobyl event, nuclear power and the like over beers after a game. Not the average cricket club banter I’ll bet. This idle banter has been repeated several times since, particularly when all the doctors joined the Club in the 90’s but I think it was the first time I actually realised how special this Club was.

More memorable moments in this season. The first came during a game at Menzies against Woodville Greenwood (note – the Woodville Turdburglars as named by Wiz Osborne). They had a player by the name of Wake, who, while being a decent cricketer was a fair dinkum tool to boot. In this particular match he had taken a few early wickets and started the tool act much earlier than usual. Some spirited conversation between our players and Wake ensued. The major combatant from our side was Dave ‘Death’ Adamson. Wake threatened us with his in depth knowledge of martial arts (we found out later he was a black belt). I look back mortified now, remembering Death fronting this pratt in a karate stance, and then in a signal of defiance, turning his back and giving him a right royal brown eye salute. Wake responded in gentlemanly style by spitting at one of the ladies who were supporting our team and marching off. We lost that game …

However, the biggest laugh was ours. In the return match we convinced Mark Miller to travel from Bunbury for the game. Mark made his maiden ton that match, with Wake dropping a sitter when Mark was on 99 (we won that game).

The season was memorable in that we made it into the grand final, playing Balcatta who were an enormously strong club. The first time we played them, rained saved us, and we shared the points – I think it was the only game they didn’t get maximum points from. The second game they flogged us – they batted first and we failed to make the million run target they set us.

On the eve of the GF some of us had a net session – foolish! That most feared master of the art of pace bowling, Dwayne Moulton managed to bowl a sandshoe crusher to opening bat Des Hutchinson, breaking his toe in the process. I should have taken this as an omen and just stayed in bed.

I had this brainstorm for the GF – we bat first, make a big score and put their batting line up under pressure – that was the answer, I was sure. I won the toss and proudly announced that we were batting. Under two hours later we were all out for 36. Understandably their line up was never under pressure making that enormous total. The high point was Hews telling their number three batsman who had batted for over 3 hours (rubbing our nose in the dirt) to f*** off and eat his cucumber sandwiches. We drank an awful lot that night …

There was one more memorable moment in that season – but it was a continual one. Damien was again captain of the twos, and was after forging a reputation for himself as an opening batsman. Damien could never get to training early, and would inevitably bat in half light. Mackie, Hewson Buzza and regrettably myself made a habit of peppering him with short stuff – to test him out of course. Little wonder he stood down in the following season.

To finish off the season, I organised an end of year trip back to my old stamping ground in Kalgoorlie, to play against the same team that I had captained two years before – the mighty Golden Eagles. As it turned out, Wiz had played with the 2 years after me and had won a premiership with them. The game, played in high spirits, and heavy rain, was won by the Eagles, by a handful of runs. We vowed to return with vengeance.1987 / 88 was a stark contrast. We were promoted to second grade, and despite the return of Wiz and Snapper Reynolds, and the introduction of Gopher Elliott Rod Hemley, Adam Hill and Steve Marrs we just couldn’t cut it. We finished last in what was a tough year. On the way we managed to compile what remains one of the clubs lowest aggregate scores in a game – a total of 106 for 20 wickets against Belmont. That effort may well have set the scene for several seasons to come.

It was so tough that opening bowler Mackie was also thrown into opening the batting. Half way through the season he invested in a helmet – not out of fear, it was just that he had learnt that if the ball bounced off the helmet we could get some runs. I watched with amazement as in one game he injured a muscle in his neck trying to head butt a quick delivery to fine leg.

I need to make a note here about Neil McGurk, or “Poo-Magoo” as we used to call him, as I fear that undeservingly so, the Clubs memory of him may be fading. Not having a spinner, he had a major role to play in the top side. He was a miserly slow bowler with unerring length, and although he didn’t take many wickets, was an asset. Plus he was one of the greatest chat-up-men you would ever want to watch in action – the kind of guy who would chat up aq lady on your behalf (now that’s an asset every unmarried captain of a team needs)

Adam ‘12’ Hill had and unusual season, and one interesting game in particular – he couldn’t find his whites in the morning, so rummaged around his folks home and finally came up with a pair of creams, all neatly folded up in a nice box with a ribbon on it. Wearing a belt, and rolling up the cuffs, ‘12’ who is normally a pretty cool dude, looked a right dork. At the end of the day the pants, complete with grass stains, dirt etc were chucked into the back of the car and left for a week. On arriving home the fireworks started – turns out they were a pair of Dennis Lillee test match creams that his Dad had paid a small fortune for.

During the season Spack took lessons from Poo Magoo, and started bringing young ladies to the matches. During our innings’ he would happily ‘spend time’ with them in the back of his panel van, only to emerge when it was his time to bat. Tony Wray was demoted from the second team and joined the top side for the latter part of the season and quickly became a ‘client’ of Muzzas’ With Hemley, and then Adam Hill in the team, a good half of the players took the field in an altered state of mind.

The season went up in a puff of smoke. In the last game we were all for 69, a fitting end. As the Beatles would have said – at least we had a ‘laugh’.

The highlight for me was the introduction of the green and gold caps. The first model had the Les’ Horribles insignia on them. They certainly were a fashion statement, and true to form, I floated the money to get them made, and ended up with a healthy loss from the project. From my foggy memory I seem to recall that this was the year that I introduced the “Horrible News”. Back in those days it wasn’t the flash thing that Earn produces so well nowadays – however, pleasingly, the Horrible celebrates its’ 14th Volume this year.

However, the season did manage to finish on a high note. Having convinced Crackers (that was hard), Muzz and a few others to go to the races on the day of the windup, I backed 8 out of 9 winners and was so pissed we damn nearly missed the show. That summed up the season – forgettable.

1988/89 – I was convinced would be different. Having been relegated to third grade I was sure we would be more competitive. Wrong! Despite the Club being expertly led by Po and myself, and discovering talent like Steve Bowran, Tony Lunt, Darren Ferdinando and Phil Caunt, the Club found itself at its’ lowest ebb since I had joined.

The biggest highlight was the emergence of Gopher Elliott as a batsman of some repute. In the previous season he would bat at 8 or 9 – mainly because he couldn’t get away from work early enough to bat any higher. Even then he used to get so nervous that he would chew his nails to wrist or have 10 wees iper minute. In this season, to give the rest of the side a break from him, he was promoted to opener, and took to it like a duck to water. He carved out his maiden century and was chock full of confidence. Gopher and I even managed to set a Club partnership record of 133 for the second wicket during the season (I think it still stands) – Goph must have batted well and protected me from the strike!

The bowling attack, comprising of the aging, but ever competitive Hewon, Buzza, Bowran, Caunt and myself was good – but the batting line up was so feeble you could knock it over with a balloon on a stick. A brief check of Wisden will tell you how well we went. We were dismissed 3 times that season for scores less than 50 – in a season in which Goph made 450 runs. It would be a fair comment to suggest that the rest of us didn’t contribute much!

It was in this season that my tactic of bowling first at all costs emerged. It was the only way of ensuring you would get a second day of cricket!

Lets not labour the point – Wisden tells it all. In a season that promised so much both sides managed to finish 7th.

Upon reflection, the big thing to come out of the year was finally convincing Rex Gray to become the Club Patron. I met Rex through Michelle (he was her boss) and having a subject like drinking in excess in common, we immediately hit it off. Back in those days superannuation was tax deductible and Rex was making more money than a bull can shit – the UCC presented ourselves as an ideal tax haven for a budding entreprenuer like Rex. He asked me how much he should donate to the Club, and I replied whatever he thought was appropriate. The biggest previous donation in the Clubs history was $200 – Rex kicked in $1000 without flinching. I am delighted by the fact that Rex’s association with the Club continues to this day.

Now, surely 1989/90 was to be a better year. Firstly – I was getting married in October, and despite the obvious interruption to my season was voted in as captain of the first eleven again.

At the first pre-season training session, unbelievably some brand new faces appeared. Graham Earnshaw, Martin Sauter, Wayne Cowie, Neil Rolland, Laurie Swan (himself), Peter Burt and this enormous bloke called Thumper (aka Greg Higgins). Later in the season we were joined by Darko Kusmanovic Dave Eckhart, Jim Lawrence and Andrew Charleson, who managed to convince the Exec (headed by Wiz) to commence drinking at the Vic Hotel in Subiaco.

Some of these guys had an instant impact. In his first match Earn clocked a swashbuckling half-ton (not out), Thumper made runs and collected wickets at will, and we found that Burty could actually keep wickets. Jim Lawrence, who was arguably the best ‘keeper of my time as Club Captain had to wait for his chance to make an impact. He was kept out of the second team by the in-form Beef Pope, and had to emerge as a batsman before he could give the gloves a go. Add the fact that Lunty (Tony Lunt) showed some form with the bat, Mark Miller returned briefly enough to capture the batting award, and Gopher in the line up – surely we had a better season???

Well no – but this time our batting wasn’t our downfall – in fact we managed to rack up 2 scores in excess of 250 this season – and no scores less than 50!

But our bowling fell away - so badly in fact that I managed to claim the illustrious Club bowling award.

Again –a season that promised so much fell away so badly. The top side finished 7th, again just avoiding relegation while the second side gave the Club its’ first excitement for some years and made the finals – but unfortunately managed no better than 4th.

The high point for me – we were playing the Turdburglars again in a one day game on some desolate spot in the far Northern suburbs. I had never had the misfortune to play on this ground before (or since thankfully) – it was literally wedged between houses and had trees about 40 meters from the pitch on one side of the boundary. After a number of unsucessful attempts to mentor the quick, but erratic Ferdy he had spent a number of weeks in the second side, but he had been selected for this game. As I walked across the ground, my heart sank – the pitch was a full 3 feet wide – Ferdy had potentially 20 ball overs staring him in the face.

Anyway the Turdburglars lost the toss, and true to form I invited them to bat. We knocked them over for some ridiculously low score, of around 120 (which in reality on this dung heap was worth about 40). To his credit Ferdy bowled well, even though his run up took him through the rose garden of one of the adjoining houses. He even took one memorable catch, at deep long on, off the TB’s best batsman.

Then came our turn to bat – a simple target one thought – knock this over and be at the pub by 5 o’clock – yeah right!

At 4-30 odd it looked grim – at 6 for 50 worse and at 9 for 70 absolutely hopeless. As our brave,but deserving number 11 Hews strode to the middle I remember asking Ferdy to help me start packing up the gear. Well – it’s history now that Hews joined Faggot Bowran in the middle and put on a faultless, chanceless unbroken 57 for the last wicket.

I wish I could capture the mood. We had neighbours hanging over the fence watching, then providing us with beers, as the number of runs required steadily diminished. From being absolutely flogged, the tables were turned. To make it even more enjoyable the Turdburglars were devastated. Even Hews had a beer at the end of that match. A huge night followed!!!

I had a delightful personal moment that year, so please allow me to bask in its glory. Bowling first change at Menzies (following Bowran) the opening batsmen from Coolbinia had a mid-pitch discussion, at which point the non-striker took off his helmet and handed it to the square leg ump. After my first ball the striking batsman did the same. I broke his jaw with the second delivery (still gives me a chubby to think about that).

1990/91

Michelle managed to convince me to stay on as Captain of the first side for the 1990/91 season. This was a big decision – after 3 inglorious years I had serious doubts about going on. Even Po stepped down for a season, giving the captaincy of the second side over to Faggot Bowran.

Pre season came around – what would get thrown up this year?

Joy of joys – the old faces were still there, the new ones from last year and some real fresh TALENT. I speak now of Pat Elton, Chris Harrigan, Brook Arnold, Ian Brown, Brendon Curtis, Chris Fox, Nick Gerling, Peter Hudson, Steve Masters Peter Zeroni and John Price. Throw in guys like Alan Bowran, Matt Watts, Simon Wood, and Bruce Bennett and all of a sudden we had depth as well as talent.

Oh yes, and a young whippersnapper by the name of Kim Rodgers ambled down for a look.

Any doubts I had pre season were dispelled. 15 new faces, and some of them could hold a bat – now this was exciting!

More so – the swelling in numbers, matched by that in my pants meant that we could enter 3 teams in the competition – increasing our credibility within the Association. I remember some interesting discussion with President Wiz – whether we should enter the 3rd team or not. Eventually, the 3rd team was entered, under the guidance of Darren Ferdinando. However, the pressure got to much for Ferdy and he stepped down during the season, to be replaced by my brother Phil.

So with all of this new talent, how did we fare?

Let me relive the first game for you – the first time in ages we fronted the first game with excitement and some anticipation – only to be met by a new club the NDCCC, at their dung heap in South Geraldton. The pitch had only just been laid, and the concrete had bubbled at the western end. A 100 knot breeze was blowing in off the ocean – a perfect day to win the toss and bowl. Ralph lost the toss and batted – Christ! Their first 3 bowlers, driven by love of their God were merciless – they must have thought we were heretics – they pounded us! We were cold, battered and shell shocked – it took more than a few beers to revive us after that!

Well – we didn’t quite beat the Bible Bashers (you know they would actually apologise if they hit you) but we showed a heap more character that in previous years. Without gloating – I felt quietly confident.

The season progressed nicely – we won more than we lost – however it took a bit of sorting out to get the first eleven settled – all these new guys – so much talent to harvest. Pat ‘Doc’ Elton was sensational with the willow and Chris ‘Hammer’ Harrigan just kept taking wickets, and Foxy actually kept wickets ! Hews, Buzz and Gopher were still galloping around, so I could experiment with the other newcomers almost at will. Zeroni, Rodgers, Brown, Gerling, Hudson all played with (some) impact at times throughout the year.

The result – we finished 3rd – which meant a showdown with the NDCCC palm washers in the first semi final. Remember that I had never captained a losing semi final side – so I was supremely confident (some say I was the only one). Anyway – this was a memorable game – due to Brooke Arnolds’ century. The photographs in the Club Album testify to the joy of that day – we had a huge roll up at the ground and drank well into the night.

The following week we had to butter up to Innaloo in the GF. A disappointment – we had them in trouble early, and they only managed a feeble score of about 165. The next day the sun failed to shine – it was blustery and rained on and off. Our upper order collapsed, and despite a spirited lower order fightback we failed to make the required runs.

The top side finsihed second, the second side finished 5th and the third team, in their first year finished a creditable 4th (effectively establishing themselves as a Club fixture).

Off the field was sensational that season. We had made the Vic Tavern our base, and had some huge nights there – as well as frequenting the Mexican Restaurant down the road. It was during these meal sessions that a ‘secret’ club called the Siblings was hatched (enough said – it’s a secret – those in the know still know – right!)

Notable social performers in this time were Matt Watts and Brendon ‘Gunna’ Curtis, together with Jonty Price, Doc Elton and Hammer Harrigan. Doc and Jonty unfortunately carried their socialising onto the field – as ‘keeper and first slip, their banter was continual – to the point that at times the bowler complained! Gunna kept Thumper Higgins on his toes (or was that the other way around), while Hammers’ ‘wanting to be a part of it’ is Club folklore. But Wattsie was huge – culminating at the windup where Thumper pinned him, and shaved off half his moustache.

To say that this was an enjoyable year would be an understatement in the least. So much so that we actually organised a return trip to Kalgoorlie to play the Eagles. My folks were in Kal at the time, and arranged cheap digs, including a lie- in breakfast for the team.

The trip was sensational. We organised a bus, which was to be ably driven by Thumper – packed as much piss as we could into the back and set off. Club Patron, Rex, blessed us with his presence and promptly set about establishing a can guzzling pace which was bloody hard to keep up with. Alistair Jones and Steve ‘Arlo’ Guthrie ran a video of the trip (which Arlos’ kids promptly recorded over), but I remember one scene in which Martin ‘ the Moose’ Sauter is standing, not sober, trying to have a leak through the open door of the bus, which at the time was doing in excess of 110 km/h. If he had slipped, I’m sure that the alcohol would have cushioned his fall.

Picture this – the bus pulls into Southern Cross – its’ 6:30pm in the sleepy hollow, as the UCC hits the Club Hotel. We walked (rather fell) into the front bar – which was very quiet, and full of cow-cockies – and ordered 44 middies and 22 shots of drambuie – and then we were gone. Finally we pulled into Kal at close to 1:00am Saturday (the scheduled match day). Some of the lads made their way to various night spots – other of us simply settled in for a game of cards – Rex took a years superannuation contributions off Wattsie. I crashed at about 4am – only to be waken by the sounds of Rex vomiting next door. Amazing what that sound will do – I joined him, followed by Rex’s son, Scott. After returning to the wooden floor I had called bed, I was woken 2 hours later by hot bacon fat spitting over the bench I had crashed under – Mum and Dad were frying up a healthy dish of cholesterol disguised as bacon and eggs! After Rex and I had finished vomiting a second time we bravely joined the rest of the gang for breakfast.

It was then onto the famous Boulder Oval for the matches. Although the memory is foggy I recall that we did win this one. The game was the setting for one of my favorite memories – Ferdy pushing in off the fence to bowl to Wayne Cowie, who was now playing for the Eagles, and as Ferdy hit his delivery stride, Cowie pulled away to count the fielders. Ferdy was fuming – hilarious at the time (you just had to be there!). Anyway, the Eagles put on a feast and a keg in our honour. We organised a raffle for a trip to Hay street which was won by Tex. Claiming pending marital infidelity, he declined the kind offer for a bonkfest – which was subsequently claimed by Scott Gray. We stood around singing and spurring him on, and in return he gave us a great description of the sex we had just paid for. A pub crawl followed – with most of us crashing at around 6am. Following far too few hours sleep we headed out to the two up school, which had obviously heard of our intentions and remained closed. Reluctantly we boarded the bus for our return journey – a much quieter bunch of UCC cricketers than headed up to Kal on the Friday – but nonetheless happy with our achievements.

1991 /92

Wild horses couldn’t keep me away from being skipper of the top side for this season, and unlike other years, pre season couldn’t come around fast enough – what new delights would be in front of us?

The first thing was the fact that Northern Suburbs had been relegated to 3rd grade to join us. Vindictive – maybe – but most of the team played for the same footy club as me, and had been giving me curry for 3 years about the way in which Uni had been performing – revenge time I thought!

And then the new faces – Cameron Gent, Craig Woodhead, Stuart Jeffery, Mal Byrne stand out most. Oh yes – plus a couple of brothers, Bruno and Thierry Lehembre popped down to add their little bits to the Clubs’ history.

Again – a great year, in which we performed much better off the field than on it – however, the first side managed to play in the finals for the second year in a row! Unfortunately we failed to win the semi final, again chasing a mediocre total – ensuring that we finished a measly 4th. The second side also lost their first semi to arch rivals Belmont.

All in all, a season in which we underperformed (except Wiz who managed to win his second Association batting award). But oh what a feeling!

The Club embarked on its’ first Gambling Night at the mid point of the year – a roaring success, which has also become firmly entrenched on the Clubs’ social agenda.

1992/93

After 3 frustrating years Wiz stood down as President – to be replaced by none other than yours truly. With ultimate power now at my fingertips plots were hatched to take the Club into its’ rightful position (whatever that might be). However my appointment precipitated a spill of the entire Exec. Sauts and Earn joined me, Jim Lawrence became captain of the second side and Matt Watts became skipper of the 3rds.

The first thing that the new Exec set about doing was to lobby to get the clubrooms at Menzies Park upgraded. The old shed was unusable – mainly because of the used needles lying around, and 15 years of urinating against the trees on the southern end of Menzies Park had eroded them to the point that a fielder at deep mid on was in danger from falling branches.

Carmen Lawrence was at the height of her powers (?) and being the local member, became a staunch ally of the Club by taking up our cause (not that she would remember of course!). Add to that some overt pressure from newly elected Federal Member of Parliament, Chris Evans, and we thought that we were home and hosed. Who ever thought that it would take a further 5 years of dealing with the local councils before the first stone was turned over!

Anyway, we also decided to centralise ourselves in Mount Hawthorn – by choosing to drink at the Paddington Alehouse, commencing a long (if once – broken) relationship with Neil Randall and the Paddy.

Onto the field – talk about a pants out there start to the season. I managed to convince 2 of my indoor cricket mates down to the Club – Sean Fitzmaurice and Sam Moschilla. They were joined by such notables as Grant Whitehead, Chris Slater, Luke Jones, Dave Schwenke Christian Porter, Matt Perry, Wayne Griffiths, Fred Cork, and Coogee and Nello Barbuzza. Now any one of those guys would have been an absolute asset, at any time for the Club, but they happened to join at a time when we had what I think was the most amazing injection of real talent I have ever had the pleasure to witness.

I am talking of course about the foursome of Andrew Rowe, Conor Murray, Ronan Murray and Chris Massie.

Conor and Ronan were well known to the Club through their exploits of hammering us around the ground when playing for Shenton Park. Chips Massie was a friend of Genties, and Muzz brought Rowey down. I was tempted not to give Rowey a game. His first night at the nets he ambled in off that pissy little run of his and threw down these thunderbolts that kept bowling me. I was convinced that I was stoned – nobody could bowl like that, and keep smiling all the while!

This was a big year. Time and again we rattled up big scores, with 3 scores in excess of 250, with strong partnerships all through the line up (4 century partnerships), particularly pleasing was the application of the middle order.

What a season! We didn’t finish on top – but, aside from an uncomfortable period before Christmas were never far from the 4, and drew the Macoes in the first semi final. We protested to the Association because due to a rule change, the game was to be played at their home ground (nicknamed the nuclear waste dump). Anyway, our protests fell on deaf ears – after spending the first half an hour ushering the livestock off the pitch the game got under way, with Uni batting first. This innings was memorable from a couple of perspectives. Firstly we made over 250, but also the innings was stopped on more than one occasion while the ball was retrieved from the swamp at the northern end.

When we started bowling at them I was actually concerned – mainly because of the noises Hews was making. The old warhorse was as pumped as I had ever seen him – maybe all he ever wanted was a decent total to bowl at! My most memorable moment of the season cam courtesy of the Hews – bowling to their captain, who had made big runs all year, Hews bowled him, only to despair that the delivery was called a no ball. Next ball he hit it straight down my throat (a sitter) which I promptly dropped, and then hid. His next ball was spooned to the safe hands of Rowey – a virtual hat- trick against the same batsman. The blood was pumping so fast into Hews trouser parts that he could have cut diamonds with that chubby!

The semi final win meant that the ultimate showdown was going to occur – Northern Suburbs in the GF. I know that Earn will talk about this in his chapter – but I’m telling you that I didn’t sleep for 2 days before the match, which was also played at their dung heap. Rowey and Lips were magnificent in their first innings – to knock them over for less than 140 was sensational. The fact that we were 0 for 70 odd at one stage and then choked to 6 for 120 is now Club folklore – but it needs to be mentioned that the second ball after lunch (at which time I had had 37 nervous wees and eaten my fingernails to the knuckle) Faggot Bowran was dropped by a Suburbs loser (I remember this well – my large intestine had collapsed at this stage), and Lips needed to be revived.

I think that the browneye salute was a fitting finale to the season – premiers at last, after a period of 13 years in the wilderness.

A bitter disappointment however was the absolute fizzogg that happened to the third side in their GF. Not that we would ever make accusations, but a suspicious soaking of the Balcatta home pitch overnight put paid to their quest to make it a dual premiership. The game was abandoned – even the other Balcatta players booed their captains pathetic way of winning the flag, due to the fact that they had finished higher on the table than our blokes.

At the post match festivities, Rowey introduced a new drinking game called the tower of flour, which tested Carmels pantry capacity and patience.

The Association windup that year was a corker. An enormous roll up of our players, singing late into the night, and then we won the raffle for a new bag of gear. Rowey won the Association bowling award in a canter. Finishing off with a naked run around the WACA was a fitting tribute.

Speaking of singing, Chips also introduced the Club song during this season. It wasn’t long before it was being belted out after every win (which was a few times that season) – and has now become a big part of the way the Club does business.

Oh yes – I was made a life member of the Club at the end of the season.

Retirement - 1993/94 onwards

How could you go on after the previous year. I was now a new Dad, and after 7 seasons as skipper hung up my boots, to be ably replaced by Rowey.

The Presidents job was another thing altogether – there was this clubroom thing and all that stuff to keep us busy.

We had a complete cleanout of the captains from the previous year. As well as Rowey, Muzz took over the second side and Thierry Lehembre the 3rd side.

On the field we performed sensationally. For the first time ever all 3 sides made the finals – but without a success between us, with both the second grade and fifth grade being beaten in the final.

This was certainly righted in the 1994/95 season. Again, all 3 sides finished in the finals – this time the rapidly promoted 4th grade and the recently promoted 7th grade capturing the elusive flags. The top side should have played in the GF – but we choked against old enemies Leederville. The 4th grade was expertly led by Muzz, who performed amazing feats in the final. The 7th grade owed their flag to Po and Matt the Weasle Turley – not in the GF but in the semi. Po went berserk (batting mind you – making 60), and Weasel ripped the hearts out of the Deaf Club Bunnies with 6 for 24. Playing on the adjacent ground the procession of DC bunnies was impressive, and distracting.

In 1995/96, again the Club impressed, but failed to capture a flag. Both the 2nd and 3rd grades made the GF – but both sides embarrassed themselves in the final. This was a great year for Association recognition – Rowey, Conor and the vastly improved (maturing / aging) Ferdy picking up awards in their respective grades.

In 1996/97 it finally happened – the Clubrooms were completed, marking another chapter in the Clubs’ history – at last somewhere to call home (permanently). I think that there is nothing finer than sitting on the verandah, in February, watching the sun sink over the heighbours houses, toasting another Uni victory. At this point I seriously considered that this was the time to retire from the Exec – then half way through the year all this political intrigue concerning the merger of our Association with Perth Mercantile to form the Perth Cricket Association. I decided to stay for an additional season to ensure that the transition into the new Association was a smooth one.

Unfortunately. maybe these events overshadowed our efforts on the field, which had began to teeter on the disappointing side – reflecting the efforts of a decade past – but this new Association needed a different approach, and an Executive Committee with fresh ideas – in short, time for me to go.

The Prologue

As the Club prepares to greet its 25th year, I must articulate the overwhelming sense of pride I have derived from being associated with the Club, as both player, leader and official.

In my whole time with the Club we have always played the game in the spirit in which it is supposed to be played, and discouraged those who think otherwise from being associated with the Club.

The Club has gone through some natural cycles – a new season brings with it new hopes and aspirations and a hope that the new faces will supplement (some may say carry) the overwhelming supply of talent that already exists.

I have this feeling that a new era is about to dawn. This may be in some part due to the average season the Dockers have had this year, so I am pinning my hopes on a big cricket season, but in most part it is due to the fact that I believe that the new Executive have set out on a new track, that augers nothing but good for the Club.

To all members of the Club, past, present and future, I commend you for your decision to be associated with the University Cricket Club – as was said by a founding member (well before me): Play up and play the game!!”