Men's 4's Win 3 - 0 against Guildford

A former captain once said to me: “Today, you must focus on the four C’s of success: Courage! Commitment! Confidence! And don’t be a …!”
I re-called these words as I drove through the glorious British-grey sunrise towards our base camp that is the ever imposing Croydon High School for Girls.

If ever the 4 Cs of success were needed it was going to be today. A day of days awaited the Fourth Team. The proverbial six pointer that would leave the loser resigned to relegation. Redemption at stake.

Walking across the hallowed turf it was clear the Guildfordians had heeded the task set them. Some unfamiliar, (and to the author’s aging leg’s disgust) young faces were spinning around in circles practicing their skills. In contrast some big names were missing from our team sheet. Ben had thought I wasn’t playing so didn’t bother to make himself available; Chris “thou shalt not pass” Maundrell was off on safari watching buffalo hunted by nocturnal predators (no, I don’t mean Ross on a Friday night out in Croydon (he too was AWOL)). Nice. Brad “get the ball to Brad” Queenan was also missing. The strength of this squad lies in its depth though and we still numbered a strong sixteen (albeit the Chatwal twins seemed able to hold only one eye open between the two of them. These 10AM starts while the nightclubs are still open for business not entirely agreeing with them).

The threat of a warm up, by stand-in skipper Scott, was regrettably carried out but miraculously most came out of it unscathed. Clustered together we let loose a final yell of “CROWS!” and marched into battle. Push back and with it came a surge of Croydon attacks! From the off it was clear no one was going to get relegated without a fight! Indy and Mulley were creating havoc up front with Scotty and Nelly feeding them pass after pass. Guildford stood strong though with five in the D at all times. Neither a foot nor a breakthrough could be found. On came Grandmaster Flash Wizard DJ DP, Jack and Pardeep. The pressure continued and it was starting to look like one of those days after a through ball to Jamie on the far post, which just needed a tap in to the empty net, sailed harmlessly by. Half time was upon us when a short corner was awarded. The deadlock broke as dead eye Pardeep sent the ball to its home! Why didn’t it want to go home earlier?! The roar of relief shook some polyfilla in Cheesman’s flat loose and the Crows bounded into the opposite goal with the bit well and truly between the teeth for their half time team talk.

Grunting complete, we lined up for the second half, comparable to rampaging rhinos on Maundrell’s precious savannah. A quick trade of passes from pushback meant the midfield was in a position to send in a killer ball to the forwards to tap in the second. Jimbo was the lucky recipient and, as he Hyatted the ball to safety on behalf of the Guildford defence, Dick of the Day was all sewn up. Guildford sensed the let off and began to take advantage of the confusion our numerous substitutions caused us by sending their young bucks up field, both dribbling….and dribbling.

The crowd, the Premier League winning 2nd XI, began to get nervous as they watched the opposition probe our D. “Need thou not be afraid” assured young James Hornby as he added to his four POMs for the season with a fifth thanks to his display of strong defence and stronger distribution. He was ably supported by the stay classy trio of James, the Wojack 4000 and Karl Cottle-Winder. To add to this the Guildford strikers had not paid so Max simply took the ball away. What pitiful shots they did get away were competently dealt with by Phil, securing the clean sheet his consistently strong performances have merited!

The game remained in the balance when the author found himself, stuck with his head down, in trouble in the midfield. In desperation the ball was flung away towards the right, and to his relief, there, like old times again, was one Mike Ford. No longer AWOL, dressed in his religious habit of late, he was ready again to support his season-long-beleaguered bottom-of-the-diamond. What resulted was the slickest move of the match as Nelly and Mike combined to trade passes as they progressed down the right wing before Mike, a clear fan of MasterChef, presented the ball on a platter for Mr Mulley to slot home. More polyfilla would be needed in Cheesman’s flat. Time for the author to catch his breath and I watched on as yet another three-pass move shifted the ball from the defence straight into the oppo’s D. Mr Mulley dutifully performed the honours. 3-0. Cheesman would need a new wall. The final whistle blew shortly after. High five, low fives and Jackson fives were thrown, women tore off their clothes while running onto the pitch to celebrate with us and upon hearing the news the mayor of Croydon wept with joy as he fell to his knees.

Mission complete.

Redemption.

Survival.

At last, the world’s greatest hockey team had found their mojo again.
An incredibly tough season, with more downs than ups, had concluded. When it counted most, not a man amongst us did not fail to step up: three wins out of three to ensure we avoided relegation.
To steal Mr Maundrell’s line: I love it when a plan comes together!

As always, until I’m given the pen again…stay handsome.

Awards:

DOD: Jimbo Jones
POM: James “Horny” Hornby

Massive thanks to Hutch and Jay for umpiring us! (No card for Scott?!)