Around the World in Nine Beers

It was quite the training session last night. It wasn’t my idea and not even my intention until I was already half way, but what a lovely journey I had.I’d worked up quite a thirst from the toughest training session in quite a while and I think it must have shown as I walked through the parlour of the Shed. Roadkill was quick to the draw and a James Boags Premium was soon tucked snugly in it’s stubby cooler. After a few gulps, of what is a perennial favourite of mine, I greeted my fellow Bashers (VI, XXXIX, I, XIV and XCIII were early starters). The Boags was good, fresh Tassie, nuclear free tap water, an old friend, like that spot in the couch with a bit of a dip.

Now I was ready for a challenge. “Challenge Me!” I declared to Mat. Nary a second thought was given and without even looking he reached behind, opened the fridge and stretched in for a dripping cold Matilda Bohemian Pilsner. The boy knows his stuff. As I sampled the brew and examined the design of the label he regaled it’s virtues with fancy beer talk. If I didn’t know better I could have thought he was talking French for all I understood. A short while later though and I was able to translate precisely what he had said. “Bloody good beer that!”.

LXXXVI showed up and I decided I needed something cleansing and a little effervescent to celebrate our nation’s cricket team’s victory over the English rugby side. One Cascade Premium was proffered by the epicure. And if champagne were beer it would be made in Tasmania.

Next to grace us was XXXIII himself. Eager to show my dedication to training and hoping for a spot high in the order on Sunday, I went straight to the top shelf (actually somewhere about a third of the way from the bottom of the fridge but I’m being metaphorical you understand). The Matilda Beez Neez is in fact quite the special drop. Half an hour was spent explaining to our president the connection between the name and honey infusion in this one, then we gave up. There’s a touch of Willy Wonka magic to the neez and thats the last time I use the words ‘touch’ and ‘willy’ in a sentence today. Note: LXII came to cricket training, straight from boxing training, by train, wearing a gown – with a train.

I was now getting the hang of this beer drinking caper and it was about this time I made my first trip to the washroom. Now an hour or two of Bashers bonding always muddles the brain a little and at first I was a little disappointed with the next stop on my journey. “This doesn’t taste like alfalfa!” I kept to myself. After adjusting my beer goggles I saw the label actually read Alpha Pale Ale. “Okay, that makes more sense” I ahhh’d. “Actually this beer deserves it’s place in the highest (yet still very reasonable) price bracket at the Shed”. I haven’t let go of the concept of an alfalfa beer though, I reckon it’d be a big hit.

For the time being though a wheat beer would have to suffice. The Redback, I was told by XXXIV, is a good beer to start an evening with. Now he tells me, but I was not deterred or afraid. I was, however, in what was becoming an incredibly commonplace fashion, pleasantly surprised. The Redback sits quite nicely in the middle of an evening, it’d probably make a fine way to end one too. In fact it’s distinctive flavour was an excellent wake-up call for the palate. I finished it off in good time and felt reinvigourated and enthused about the road which still lay ahead.

Disappointment greeted me at the next turn however. “Temporarily Out Of Stock” read the sign coming out of the landlords eyes (yes, things were starting to get a little illogical). What No Pure Blonde?! Not since the end of “the never-ending story” has there been such disappointment, I was really looking forward to tasting a blonde. Oh well, stiff shit, onward and upward!

Where should one go in a time of need? What better way to drown one’s sorrows, what better substitute for a blonde than a tall, smooth necked, regal brunette. Hooray for good old Crown Lager. I wonder if you popped over to Buckingham Palace for a barbie if the Queen would have an esky full of crownies? I bet she would.

About this time the Bashers Wives Club rolled into the parking lot and the valet parked their bus. Some commotion ensued but I could now see the goal, the end was nearing, success was tantilisingly close and I would not be distracted. The immediate challenge was perhaps the most dreaded and demanding stanzas. This could be like the point at the 38km mark in a marathon when a runner “hits the wall”. Cascade Stout had been staring at me from the fridge all evening. “He won’t know what hit him” it was muttering to itself, “I’m gonna rip his balls off”. Little did Cascade stout know that I had been well versed in battling it’s kind, even having success against my old man’s home brew licorice stout back in the 80’s. I vanquished this gentle dark foe and gleamed delightedly as I did it. I was not sorry.

I had made it, I had reached the pinnacle, surfed the wave, rode the bus, popped the cherry, fed the plants, worn out the cliche. As I stood at the bow of the sinking cruise-liner, arms around my lover, wind in my hair, Celine Dion annoying the crap out of everyone, I looked skyward towards the beam of light focused squarely upon me and as I squinted and crossed my legs I saw my prize. My reward for persistence, bravery, reasonable stubbornness and ability to count was as prime a bounty as could be deserved. For when a man has toiled in the hot sun all day, riding, gliding, sliding, walking, talking, stalking, working, smirking, jerking and earning thirst-ing, a man deserves a big cold beer! And The Best Cold Beer Is A Vic, Vic Bitter.

So Bashers, there it is, highly recommended training for anyone. Why not give it a try yourself? Drink the fridge at the Shed. You won’t win anything or get your name on the wall – you’d have to do something really impressive for that – but you will have an experience you can tell you grandkids about, many, many times probably. Good times with fine comrades and many nicely chilled, great tasting beers.

Mmmm, I wonder if the Shed will open for lunch today.