Deathbat: Lest We Forget

In the interests of preserving historical history for future generations to learn from and admire ¡Man Abroad! has decided to take a walk down Table Tennis Memory Lane. Deathbat, considered the pinnacle of Table Tennis, and competitive sports in general, brought together some of the finest athletes (and some others) in the game head to head in a bat-off of the likes that have never been seen before. Twas 10 July 2009 in an underground Melbourne sports arena (that doubles as a carpark and junk storage facility).

The key to throwing a shit hot event is shit hot promotional material. As a promotions man I know this and I do this. Actions speak louder than words and speaking loud words acts harder than anything else. So take off your socks, put on a sporty frock and get on the tour bus deep into the archives of sporting history. A slice-of-life story with all the trimmings, it is a religious metaphor with an emphasis on man versus man as a climax. Traditional values were put aside in the interests of trans-traditional camaraderie. For one evening, bridges were were built, crossed, strengthened, played and snacked upon, supporting those too drunk to stand alone before being dismantled and put back in a fictional arctic storage facility where they belong.



Every promo man in the business knows sexiness (and aggressive robots) sells. Everytime. That's why I chose myself as the face of Deathbat, to generate the guaranteed interest that it deserves and keep it media friendly.

Oh yeah, the photographs were taken by Kirstin 'Trigger Finger' Gollings and heavily art directed by me. As a successful promo man, I know that great results require respectful collaboration and an iron fist. If you want to get the best out of someone, just yell at them and take it. You don't need a broken spice rack to headbutt a priest.







Spectators and participants together in the main stand enjoying the Deathbat Catering Services.


Deathbat Catering Services was an oven baked success. Gourment frozen pies and sausage rolls, handmade crisps of three different types + five types of booze = spectactularisation.




Umpiring is important business. That's why we chose a pirate to maintain the integrity required for a world class sporting event. It is generally accepted that pirates have exceptional eyesite and keep the peace through unstable screaming, instilling fear in all those around them.


Nicholas King of England, high profile TT Player and accomplished contemporary composer. A vicious forehand and an impenetrable backhand make this man one of TT's greats.


Some people (Ben) struggle with scale change from outside tennis to inside miniature tennis. But it's the effort that counts.



Multi-purpose cap antics. It's intimidating, it's disorientating and it's sexy. The opposition don't stand a chance.


Stevo the demin-clad-knuckle-dusting-rock-dog of TT.



Back from the dead. A surprise reunion with an old friend whom I thought was lost forever in a horrific and senseless Dirty Hands Bin accident. When will people learn that violence against robots is NOT ok?


Doubles final. Ben & Pirate Pidge vs Sabs & Roger Federer's Lesser Known And Lesser Talented Brother Daniel.


The victorious doubles team and the coveted Aluminium Cup.


Well, well, well. Looks who's in the fucking Grand Final? Head to head, Nick on Nick action. Long time training partners in the unthinkable — a man to man bat-off for the crown and glory.


Stevo's greatest contribution to the evening was obeying the strict order to play the Hans Zimmer Days of Thunder score during the Grand Final and then defend the sound studio with his life from those unable to recognise Zimmer's magnificence.


The moment of loss. Feels similar to a punch in the glove box by an angry altar boy but with more sting.



I may have lost the match of all matches but true sportmanship (and binge drinking) was the real winner.


The trophy of all trophies, the Deathbat-Seat-Box-Plate Cup.


You're not a true champion until you can face the world victorious and shirtless. Well done sir, well done.

Deathbat was phenomenon hard pressed to be topped. Yes, the Sydney Olympics were extremely well organised but I think we have a new benchmark now, a yard stick by which to measure all future spectacles. But Deathbat did more than this. For one night it brought together two races of normally irreconcilable differences: Graphic Designers and those poor, nerdy, impoverished, work in the dark, visually impotent, computer network game playing, kitchen dirtying and nerdy nerdy 3D Renderers. That is the power of Deathbat.