COWHC M4 vs Royal Holloway - 03rd Nov 2018

“There is no better feeling than knowing I have lived to see the Croydon Old Whitgiftian Fourth XI play hockey.” – Lady Gaga.

It was a strange and eerie feeling driving down the A232 towards Trinity for our ‘home’ game against Royal Holloway. Where was the traffic? Where were the crowds? What was going on? Had society gone into mourning not getting to watch their beloved 4s over the last 2 weeks owing to lack of fixture availability? Only when meeting up with the rest of our squad did it become clearer. Half our team had been dropped to play for the 3s this week! In the confusion the crowds must have been drawn to the wrong venue, erroneously thinking the inclusion of get-the-ball-to-Brad, yellow-card-Netherway and pflick-English, alongside last season regulars Nellemose and Edwards, meant the 3s fixture was the 4s fixture! With the spine of our team being ripped out of it we would need something in its place to hold us together. As luck would have it, for the first time in the regular season, the Tripod was back together! Max, Mike and Adam, looking handsome as ever, were primed for battle.

A tribute to the effort of the 4s this season has been the lack of a DOD after each game. Not today! While still warming up everyone’s favourite journalist looked to retrieve a pre-match kick-about rugby ball from a slippery wooden platform. In the process an attempt at an up and under to clear the netting meant I upended myself on the slick surface, landed flat on my back and lay sprawled out with the ball rolling next to me, much to the delight of everyone watching. DOD sewn up and push back was not even in sight!

Despite the jealousy of the 3s stealing our players in an evil and vile attempt to try make us look bad, the line-up was still as solid as Mike’s nether regions in the early hours of the morning after attending the former venue of the Black Sheep of Croydon! The backline would consist of the formidable pairing of Max and Skip in the centre, the constantly-improving Jamie on the right, the freshly-promoted-from-the-3s Steve on the left and the ever dependable Phil in goal. The strength of this back line shining through thanks to Chambo having to start off the subs bench, despite numerous solid performances in previous weeks! In the midfield it was to be Killer and Mike on the flanks and for the older reader, a throwback to the past of myself and HamJam teaming up in the centre. Ross Jacobs, delayed by the tea strike at his local café, would roll on once he arrived. Up front the Adam brothers would continue their season long pairing with Qaz to help out once he arrived. Of which we’re still waiting…

A word on our opposition. Royal Holloway was clearly struggling for numbers. In desperation they turned to the Bollywood porn market to help out. A number of their members ready to school us in bad hairdos (Killer would no longer own the league in this department) and cringe worthy banter (if you can call it that). Their most endearing player, clearly a break dancer by trade, spent the entire game writhing around the floor on his back, outraged with anyone who dared to win the ball off him (which we easily did). He was probably vindicated that time I accidentally tripped him on purpose but all in all the phlegmatic mucus deserved his ‘Scott Netherway’ moment wherein he talked himself from a green card to a yellow one and didn’t return to the pitch. Adam Williams, the thoughtful chap he is, was on his way to console him at the end of the game but Mike Ford, priest like in his wisdom, suggested otherwise and employed Nicky to bring Adam to heel. A wise and benevolent man is Saint Ford. The students were to provide us a few more shocks that day, most notably when they performed a warm up routine. A warm up routine I ask you?! What happened to barely been able to stand up straight before 12PM? The youth of today. No respect for tradition.

Prior to push back Adam orchestrated a worthy 4s’ execution of the club’s production of “We Will Remember Them” and afterward we set about ensuring Royal Holloway would remember us!

For the first 10 minutes the 4s played such immaculate hockey that HamJam was to later quote “The Rustlers won’t stand a chance against that type of play!” Unfortunately they might as the end product was still AWOL in the final third of the pitch. As per the blueprint of other games we slowly but surely allowed the opposition to find their feet (expect for the one already mentioned) by not killing the game off. The midfield became a ding dong battle and testament to the action taking place here meant both Mike Ford and Killer would be honourable mentions when it came to POM. A huge moment of satisfaction for Killer’s tutors came in the first half when one of the student midfielders made a run from halfway to the goal line of our D. Killer, having missed the tackle, turned and tracked him all the way, holding off diving in and eventually forcing him to kick the ball when confronted by Phil and the post. A top piece of defending from the 2018 edition of Killer! Later in the half the love child of the dog from Beethoven and Imran Khan tried to tussle with Mike for the ball just outside their D. Upon losing both the physical and skill battle the player ran off with Mike’s words of “We can go the physical route if you want…but just remember…I’m a lot bigger than you!” The player was to remain aloof for the rest of the game. Lovely stuff. With things heating up nicely it was unfortunately brought to a halt by the half time whistle.

0-0, a talking to from Lydia about on field behaviour and then a few calmer words from Skip: remain patient and try not to look for the killer pass straight away. Which we obeyed to the letter of the law of course (provided you don’t count the three dozen times we still looked for it).

On the return to play Phil was called immediately into action to keep us in the game. It has been remarked recently there is a possible lack of accuracy to my match reports (which my writer’s integrity naturally objects to) but you really had to be there to witness Phil move about his goal like an orangutan on c*****e keeping their attack at bay. He was aided and abetted by Max’s eleventh hour tackles, Skip's continuous growling each time their pubescent smell wafted too close, Jamie’s relentless haranguing (another honourable POM mention) and Chambo and Steve’s insistence to win any 50/50 within their zone of concern.

Finally, the moment that would break Royal Holloway’s spirit. A ball was played from the sideline towards our D with only Ross Jacobs in the way. Much to the delight of the striker the pass was intended for, Ross raised his stick and allowed the ball into the D. Before the striker could take aim though the whistle went for a Crows ball. Who knew Ross knew the rules so well?! Knowing they were now being outsmarted by Ross, of all people, they began to question their chance at winning (which was always zero). And so we began their real education! A fantastic ball from Mike Ford across the D meant our attack had another chance to fluff. Duly taken. The ball, however, would bounce loose to HamJam who showed all his POM class in slotting the ball home to give us the 1-0 lead we deserved. Readers of our exploits will be shocked to find we did not then spend the remainder of the game camped in our own D inviting pressure on ourselves. I was shocked too! Skip decided to forgo our established 16-yard “Alpha Male Rocket” routine of launching a missilesque pass towards their keeper and instead distributed square to Steve Brooks. Confused by the fact he was in possession of the ball, as the result of a pass and not a tackle, Steve played it down the line as rapidly as he could. Ross Jacobs, in view of the author and Jamie, displayed a magic touch to keep the ball in play while moving it past a fruitless attempt of a tackle. Ross found Adam Williams on his 134th run of the day (respect) and as Adam tried to find other Adam with the killer pass an evil but sure footed student volleyed the ball clear. Short corner time. Thus we spent the last minutes of the game showing off our new short corner bungles to the crowd. Eventually Lydia could take no more and spared any further blushes with the final whistle.

1-0 Crows.

The greedy and selfish 3s, in an attempt to emulate us, had robbed us of some our finest…but once again the class of the 4s shone through!

Well done to all on a hard fought and well-deserved result!

Until the next time I’m given the pen….

POM HamJam

GOAL HamJam

DOD Yours Truly