The Thameside Cup Final
- zacfinch11
- Jun 4
- 4 min read
London Aquatics Centre, bathed in the golden blush of an early summer sunset, bore witness to a tale of guts, glory, and gallant defeat on Monday, as the WT Narwhals came within two agonising goals of their first silverware in over a decade. Facing the formidable and reigning Thameside Cup champions, the London Citizens, the Narwhals arrived as plucky underdogs and left as valiant nearly-men, bent but unbroken.
The Omens Were Never Good
As ever, superstition loomed large. The pre-match vibes were ominous at best: a mere nine-goal handicap stood between the Narwhals and a side who were, by all accounts, paid-up members of the Penguin and Otter. Spirits were further dampened by Nick Shute’s bargain with the gods of fate, sacrificing a Narwhal victory for a Crystal Palace FA Cup Triumph…
A Premature Splash
The mood on poolside was unusually serene – until the referees, sticklers for punctuality, kicked off proceedings with uncharacteristic urgency. Amid the scramble for hats and caps and vague tactical ideas, the Narwhals rallied, and in a statement of intent, Gio slammed home the opening goal with a classic pit strike. For a brief, glorious moment, the dream was alive and well.
Unfortunately, all that did was poke the beast. The Citizens – clinical, composed, and far too good at swimming/water polo (cheats), replied with a brutal five-goal run that reminded everyone why they were the defending champions and mostly national league players. But while the scoreboard ticked in their favour, the Narwhals continued to frustrate, using the lack of a thirty second clock to their advantage and holding onto possession for as long as they could.
Quarters of Character
The rest of the game played out with punishing consistency: 4-2, 4-2, 4-1. We learned quickly what “good” looks like in water polo: crisp passing, effortless movement, shots that rocket into the top bin. But the Narwhals stayed in the fight, clawing back goals and trading (literal) blows right to the final whistle.
Final Score: London Citizens 21 - WT Narwhals 19
Two goals. Just two.
Heroes and Hijinks
Man of the Match honours went to George Adam, whose point-blank saves kept the dream alive for far longer than we deserved. Moment of the Match belonged to Ed Gamble for a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it strike in the third that defied physics, expectation and his own ability.
The coveted Fluffer award was shared this week in a touching display of symmetry: John Holah and Zach Finch tag-teamed the art of giving away majors and then competing to see who could get out first – a poignant tribute to teamwork and confusion. Zach also takes home a special commendation for briefly auditioning as a UFC prospect via headlock.
Gio, tireless and thankless as ever in the pit, deserves a standing ovation (which he’ll never get), and special mention must go to Pvt. Charles King-Tension for turning up in full military resolve from basic training. Meanwhile, Nick Shute earns the evening’s only dishonourable mention for his post-match fiscal irresponsibility – no pint for Rob. Shocking.
So no trophy this time. How many more years of hurt? We walked in underdogs; but we swam out heroes. Bruised, sore, slightly drunk heroes.
See you at the curry house.
Epilogue: The Curry House
Having tried really, really hard on Monday night and come so close to cup glory, there was only one logical next step for the Narwhals: curry.
With our bodies aching and our pride intact, we declared Tuesday a rest day and gathered on Wednesday for the real prize, a table at The Chat House, South Croydon’s finest purveyor of poppadoms, lager, and mysterious chef specials.
Numbers were low, but spirits were high. Andy Ogg had sprinted back to Scotland, no doubt still in trunks, Charles was somewhere in a trench, presumably bayoneting something. Holah had lost his cat (again – serious questions need asking), and Finchy had to stay at home.
But six massive lads made the trip. And oh, what a glorious six.
Gio was lauded for his tireless work in the pit and his even more impressive work at home – baby Narwhal incoming! We raised a Cobra (or several) in his honour. The curry was good, the beer free-flowing, and the banter dubious. We learnt something very interesting about Moana and Italian culture and imparted all our fatherly wisdom on the father to be.
Just as we were settling into our rhythm, in walked Andy Winterbotham, fashionably late and received like a messiah. The six became seven. The naan was replenished. The night rebloomed.
A short post-curry pilgrimage to the Crown & Sceptre was deemed essential. One final pint – the nightcap of champions – before we all headed home, fed, watered, and miraculously in bed before midnight.
Man of the Match: Gio, for picking up the bill. (He really shouldn’t have. He’s having a baby. Honestly, mate.)
Moment of the Match: Andy W’s surprise entrance, an elite-level cameo.
Fluffer: George, for ordering a terrible curry. Do better next time.
In Summary:
No medals, no parades, no headlines.
Just good food, bang average company, and a semi-good reason to keep showing up.
What a team. What a week. What a curry.

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