Melbourne summer, eighty-something
Cicadas singing loud
Shirts for goalposts, sunburnt shoulders
Bare feet on burning ground
Mum yelling out,"Tea's nearly ready!"
Dad says,"One more over, mate"
The street was ours, the rules were loose
We played 'til it got late
A tennis ball, a cracked old bat
Neighbours peeking through the blinds
Every driveway, every fence
Was a crease we crossed in time
Wheelie bin stumps and a taped-up ball
Cricket on concrete, no pads at all
We weren't kids — we were legends then
In our own backyard with our mates and friends
From dusk 'til dark, we had it made
Living whole lifetimes in the games we played
Yeah, wheelie bin stumps — that's where we learned
How dreams are bowled and belief is earned
When we bowled, we had a run-up
Longer than the yard allowed
We were Lillee with fire in our eyes
And Mervin loud and proud
Someone tried to rip a leggie
Said,"Watch this drift, then turn"
All of us thought we were Warnie
Before the world had learned
Cracked fences, borrowed neighbours' balls
Apologies we never made
If you hit the roof — that's six and out
Unless we all agreed it stayed
Wheelie bin stumps and a taped-up ball
No third umpire, just a backyard call
We weren't small — we were ten foot tall
Every boundary felt like the MCG wall
Grass stains, laughs, and scraped-up skin
You'd bat all day just to have a win
Yeah, wheelie bin stumps — summer burned
Into every lesson we never learned
When it was time to take the bat
We'd tap it twice, then grin
"I'm Booney today," someone said
Built like a keg but all class within
Someone patient like Haydos
Others swinging like Gilly
Every shot a statement of belief
Every miss still silly
Now the street's a little quieter
Kids are inside more than out
But I swear I hear it sometimes still
That appeal, that laugh, that shout
If I close my eyes I'm back there again
Barefoot, young, and free
One more over before dinner time
Just one more over for me
Wheelie bin stumps and a taped-up ball
Echoes of laughter live in the walls
We chased the sun 'til it disappeared
And learned who we were year by year
No contracts signed, no crowds to earn
Just pride and lessons learned
Yeah, wheelie bin stumps — if you ask me why
That's where we learned to dream sky-high
Melbourne summers
Backyard cricket
Legends born without anyone knowing
