Famous Last Words Edition

The evening began with a sense of optimism, what had been a stringy six at 10am had become a respectable 8 by 9pm. Whilst we had arrived with a lean squad, we quickly learnt that we would have a new “automated” scoreboard to test, built by the referee, no less – always reassuring when the man in charge of fair play also controls the machinery that tells you that you’re losing. Even so, I was quietly confident. So confident, in fact, that upon arrival I took myself off for a pre-match comfort break. As Elvis reportedly said shortly before his death: “I’m going to the bathroom to read.”. In truth, this was the highlight of my evening.

The omens, as in Elvis’ case, were not good. We were missing three stalwarts: Shute had fled to France, Finch Snr had presumably booked himself into an all-inclusive somewhere sunny, and Zach was “on an island” (no further comment until the Epstein files are released). To quote Mr. Trump, “We were not friends…”.

The warm-up was patchy. Was it the lingering questions from the opposition about whether “Sperminator” would be joining them in Lyme Regis at the weekend? Was it the fact that our pre-match talk lacked… let’s say… nuance? Delivered by Ed “Mr Motivator” Gamble, it contained the now immortal line: “They will try and swim us boys, but luckily this pool is too short to be countered on. Just stay tight and we will be fine.” Famous last words indeed.

Seven minutes later we were 5–0 down. The counter was very much on, all goals coming from lightning opposition counter attacks. The team talk clearly not taking into consideration our general awareness or ability. To make matters worse, our shooting was just as bad as our defending. To quote the old American Civil War general John Sedgwick moments before his death: “They couldn’t hit an elephant at this distance.”.

It was also during Q1 that we learnt of the jarring nature of the new scoreboard. At 30 seconds, it emits a sound that can only be described as “school fire drill meets nuclear launch warning.” Fight the urge to evacuate the pool.

To our credit, we didn’t fold. We went on to win every other quarter – oh, what could have been. Q2 brought redemption for Andy Ogg, who balanced out his missed penalty in Q1 by converting one in Q2 and adding two more from open play. Rob Dickenson netted three, James contributed his customary shit lob (now as inevitable as death and taxes), and Andy Winterbotham made a rare outfield appearance, racking up some strong assists – though the official stat sheet obviously credits them to Ed Gamble.

Geo put in a full shift in the pit, drawing little sympathy from the referee and only a rising sense of indignation, but to his credit, he kept his shoulders under the water in the shallow end. A clear improvement! By midway through Q4, we had clawed it back to 11–9. Hope stirred. Perhaps we could do this - or as General Custer might have said before the Battle of the Little Bighorn: “We’ll have them in no time.” (cheeky cowboy reference lads).

Then Kingston’s swimmer popped up again – two more goals, taking his personal tally to eight. Final whistle: 13–9 to Kingston.

In truth, the first quarter killed us. Everything after that was a respectable performance against a quick and organised side. On another night, maybe the story ends differently. But that’s sport – one minute you’re in the game, the next you’re quoting Kenneth Wolstenholme: “They think it’s all over… it is now.”

Man of the Match: In a close 3-2 win, the nomination went to Ed “best team talk ever” Gamble. Not for the pre-match build up, but rather for the re-focusing of the troops for quarters 2, 3 & 4 (and perhaps some goal contributions). Commiserations to Rob who just missed out. 

Moment of the Match: Despite missing man of the match, Rob does unanimously win moment of the match – for one or two good goals and also for a successful block with his full face. Kudos.

Fluffer: Whilst nominations were split around the team, Oggy was successful for his penalty miss. In the words of the man I overheard in a Dutch port-a-loo moments before he shat himself, “Uh oh… toilet noises”.

Forza narhwali