Explosions under a soundtrack; Sydney Kings vs Adelaide 36ers - Entertainment Centre - 21/01/05

Ethan Switch - Saturday, 22 January, 2005 - Print Version

Finding a hard time swallowing broccoli, a few copies of Kings News still do no dent on the areas with no seats. The girl at the box office graciously hands over a ticket for a section close to the action but without the fill of beef. The Filipino All-star game wraps on 34 to 20 with the Blues claiming victory over the Golds. Or the Golds over the Blues. Or East over West. Or vice versa. The announcer for the early game holds no gravitas, no real conviction. It's like the system is turned off and nobody is paying the bills for the reconnection. That guy better not charge for over time taking his time draining the pipes.

Victoria/Vanessa/Veronica Martinez smoothly delivers the national anthem as a big fat guy whimpers out a whine for the sake of making himself heard over the din. Clear and easy to listen to, it's evident that Advance Australia Fair is too short to stand alone in its single verse state. Blanket advertising from the Daily Telegraph suffocate the Kingdome. The Imperial March introduces the Adelaide players whereas the Kings walk in with what sounds like Rebel Blockade Runner.

Pumping the shotgun, Mark Sanford fires the first shot. The Kings of Sydney continue the barrage as the 36ers from Adelaide watch on. Eleven points and four minutes into the match, the visitors finally step on court and add to their side of the board. Overwhelming their opponents, Kings pledge on the hammering, showing no mercy as the early minutes eat up all the explosive reactions from the crowd. Major hustling here, arms all about the place, it's a wonder an eye isn't put out. 36ers make it back from the locker room and close in on their hosts. A fantastic opening on both sides of the deal with a massive showing from the seats. Kings 26 to 36ers 24.

With We Will Rock You opening the match, any urge to wait for that hit in the fourth quarter/money time is gone. Surely there's another song out there that might hold some weight and serve as a fresher lead in. Apparently the nick name of "hitman" for Jason Smith didn't last the week and reverts back to his "The Twin" moniker.

Second quarter. Brilliant stuff. The player exclamations and punctuation soundtracks make their mark. Minutes into the fray, Rolan Roberts dunks to trigger Limp Bizkit's Rollin'. Seconds later, Ben Knight sneaks in through the hulking masses and sets off a few beeps from the Knightrider theme. Sanford brings along The Shirrelle's Sandman, though that seems rather questionable in its content. "Lightening" Luke Martin runs around with Speedy Gonzales. Even the Lion's little distraction into the crowd for some Coke hits it with I See Red from Split Enz. Offense, defense, it's all good. With the amount of times Roberts happens `upon the flash and dunks, the Bizkit pretty much override the other songs for ratio to play. 36ers fall back to hold 43 against 54.

Boosting out from under a section with all kinds of framed photos and for the half-time show, the Bounce Studio dance group. Or what appears to be their lead-in section. They start off with a flourish and after that it's walking around the Ent Cent toward the otherside. It's a quick act, making it back up the stairs, the other half is on. Their size clearly having no other choice but to take to facing the eastern end of the court. It's a great execution, a fine and fluid act. But there just isn't much life to it. It's a "battle-tastic" ceremony of stylistic flavour. Preparations for a war, an armada readying their ships as they fly out in an M-formation to deliver a dual-pronged attack with a back-up in case. Funky.

Distractions serve the third quarter opener into a mish of mash. Bradley Sheriden hones in on a section of the court with a plague. All shots around his area end up lost, rebounds are done for and fast breaks end up going the wrong way. There's an infection spreading in this quarter. The Kings are dying out there and it looks horrific. The 36ers are practically now just walking back the lost time since the start. A technical foul to Smith from nowhere serves up a clear run for Willie Farley from Adelaide to lay a dunk. The lead changes a few times but with that much of a break out. Kings cling with 73 against 72.

Clearly, The Harlequins—sporting slightly bigger tops that appear to be smaller—are having their own battle out on the court. East and West, duking it out, their styles and kicks seeing who takes out the crown. The cheerleaders on the east keep up with those on the west and the gauntlet gets thrown back and forth numerous times throughout the night. One side seems to have the upper hand, but the next blast sends the others reeling. Collectively, they seem a little off, more than a few steps out of their usual synch. These lapses outside of what might be a few new steps. Thankfully they keep their pompoms on, the absence makes for another kind of show.

Definitely new blood coursing through the Lion tonight. Not only does he do more than the standard rate of hand kissing, but the tell has already been spoilt days prior. Not noting nothing, a tentative run out throughout the night suggests that the new charge is working up the adrenaline, seeing if his head will explode from the load. Soliciting the end of night ramp of cheer, it's the shuffling feet that mark that certainty. A certain lift is no longer there. We have a new cat in town. One that goes right off at the end after a long run up.

Fourth quarter and the crowd return, their power juicing all over with that nasty crust getting a wipe out. CJ Bruton finds a hard workout, and without a theme song, is in line with the captain's lack of background punch. The steam loosens it burn and the match squeezes down on the throne for a massive question. Climbing higher and higher the pitch is feverish, as the tussle nears the end. Holding them down again, the Kings just manage to keep the 36ers from taking it back as they go down. Kings 100, 36ers 93.