Bad Grandad invents a new sport

Bad Grandad has never trusted an ordinary game. Cricket takes too long, golf involves trousers with far too many pockets, and lawn bowls requires a level of politeness he considers suspicious. Give him a patch of grass, a battered wheelie bin and an afternoon with nothing scheduled, and he will create a championship.

His latest invention begins with a simple question: what if sport rewarded poor judgement, dramatic complaining and the ability to hide a tennis ball in a cardigan? The answer is Grandadball, a backyard contest that combines elements of cricket, footy, darts and whatever happens at a family barbecue after the sausages run out.

The rules are still being written, mostly because Bad Grandad keeps changing them whenever he loses. One moment the playing field is the local oval; the next, it is the space between the Hills Hoist and the neighbour’s letterbox. Spectators are encouraged to bring folding chairs, sunscreen and a firm belief that they know the rules better than the referee.

Anyone wanting to explore the wider world behind these mischievous characters can visit Andy Fanton’s site, where comics, writing and cartoon creations reveal the same affection for absurd situations and gloriously unruly personalities.

The birth of Grandadball

The sport is born during a scorching Saturday in suburban Australia. Bad Grandad has been banned from backyard cricket after “accidentally” moving the stumps, replacing the ball with a bread roll and declaring himself not out because he was wearing lucky socks.

Rather than accept defeat, he drags a rubbish bin onto the grass and announces a fresh athletic discipline. Players must kick a football at the bin, catch a tennis ball bounced off a garden chair and sprint to the patio before Grandad rings a bicycle bell. Nobody understands how these activities fit together, least of all the inventor.

The first match attracts three grandchildren, a puzzled dog and a neighbour from across the fence. Within minutes, Bad Grandad is claiming that the dog is the official timekeeper and that anyone who questions the scoring system will be sent to the sin bin.

Rules that move faster than the goalposts

Grandadball has five essential skills: kicking, catching, dodging, shouting and looking innocent when something breaks. A player earns points for hitting the bin, completing a lap of the Hills Hoist and delivering a convincing excuse after dropping the ball.

The referee is supposed to be impartial, but Bad Grandad appoints himself referee, coach, commentator and tribunal. He carries a whistle around his neck and a notebook filled with rules that appear to have been written during the match. Rule seven states that the oldest player receives an automatic bonus. Rule eight says rule seven is suspended if the oldest player is losing.

The scoring system is especially flexible. A goal counts as three points, unless it was scored by a grandchild, in which case it counts as “one point and a valuable lesson”. A spectacular fall earns a bonus, provided Grandad was responsible for the obstacle.

The equipment cupboard becomes a stadium

No expensive gear is needed. Grandadball uses a tennis ball, a soft footy, two plastic buckets and a broom that has seen better days. The official uniform is whatever players were already wearing, although Bad Grandad insists on a knitted vest because it makes him look “aerodynamic”.

The Melbourne branch plays beside a tram stop, where commuters briefly mistake the chaos for performance art. In Brisbane, the competition pauses whenever the heat becomes too fierce, which Bad Grandad calls “a tactical hydration interval” while eating an icy pole. A Sydney fixture is nearly cancelled when a seagull steals the match ball and refuses to negotiate.

The most important piece of equipment is the boundary marker. Grandad chooses a barbecue chair, a pot plant or a suspiciously expensive garden ornament. Since nobody can agree where the boundary lies, arguments become a recognised part of the event.

A sport built for local rivalry

The first serious tournament is held beside a suburban barbecue, with teams named after household objects: the Wheelie Bins, the Fallen Umbrellas and the Leftover Potato Salads. Between matches, players queue for snags, argue about sunscreen and insist that their cousin would have won if the ball had not bounced “in that weird Australian way”.

The Bunnings sausage-sizzle atmosphere gives the tournament a distinctly local character. Volunteers sell lemonade, someone brings a chilly bin full of soft drinks and a retired uncle provides commentary from beneath a wide-brimmed hat. Bad Grandad claims the entire event is sponsored by common sense, although no evidence of that sponsor can be found.

A brief appearance on community television turns the game into a sensation. Children practise the bin-kick in parks, parents ban tennis balls near windows and one enthusiastic school introduces a lunchtime league. Bad Grandad responds by demanding a licensing fee from anyone who uses his patented “surprise shrubbery” manoeuvre.

Why Bad Grandad refuses to retire

The invention suits him because it transforms every weakness into a competitive advantage. Bad eyesight becomes a reason to replay the shot. A bad back becomes a theatrical injury. Forgetting the score becomes an opportunity to announce a more favourable one.

His grandchildren eventually learn the secret of beating him: agree with every rule until he becomes overconfident, then score while he is delivering a speech about sporting integrity. They also discover that he cannot resist a challenge involving a remote-controlled toy, a bucket of water or a prize labelled “limited edition”.

For more cartoons, mini-strips and comic mischief from the same creative universe, the main portfolio offers plenty of characters with the same talent for turning ordinary days into beautifully daft adventures.

Grandadball may never reach the MCG, and that is probably for the best. It belongs in back gardens, school ovals and family gatherings where the rules can be bent, the commentary can be loud and nobody minds when the final whistle goes missing. Bad Grandad has invented a new sport, but his greatest achievement is persuading everyone else to play along.

Share the strip with a fellow fan of backyard competition, then follow Andy Fanton’s work for more comic characters, strange schemes and grand plans that should probably have been stopped earlier.