Labour Three: The one with the deer

Ancient Greece – Hellenistic ideals are starting to gain momentum and truculent Gods are running amok. One of which, dear Hera, is pretty annoyed that our friend Hercules has defeated two of her favourite beasts, so for the third task instructs him not to kill the deer, but to capture. Small snag – it’s pretty tight with Apollo and can run faster than a man.

Back in 2016, Tipperlinn, for that is once again where we set our tale, the storm clouds were gathering round the peaks of the Pentlands and the hurly burly winds did blow, and in the midst of this the L3s prepared to meet their makers/ the L4s, unbeaten since time seemingly was invented*. Forget David and Goliath (pretenders); scoff at the mention of Hearts v Hibbs (Jacobites) – this was the meeting that heralds, and any future Blind Harrys would be talking about for the ages ***, for the 27,000 crowd were baying for blood and even there trees were crowding in: waiting for the whistle to blow; waiting for the cacophony of stick tackles to begin.

Thus with the crack of the whistle, and a slow motion drive worthy of any perfume advert the game was a foot. The L3s led with early pressure tweaking the ball right, tweaking the ball left, and were rewarded with an early goal. Ball reset, and the pressure resumed. We won a short corner; we didn’t score. The play continued. We won a short corner; again we didn’t score. The play continued. The 4s got a break down the right, an unfortunate slip at the top of the D left a one on one with the goalie, and the opportunity was not missed – as with a cracking strike the ball was struck home and the 4s were back in the game. There was some more hockey, certainly some more stick tackles, undoubtedly some more short corners that we didn’t score from, and definitely some feet, one of which happened to be in our D. The 4s first attempt at goal was foiled by yes, an errant foot and an overdramatic fall. Their second attempt, with a hit that caused the ball to break the sound barrier, did not miss and the 4s were up 2-1. Did we panic? Yes. However, thankfully it was close to half time, half-time and the sweet, sweet promise of Haribo and sanctuary.

Half time passed: breeches were tightened, game faces drawn back on and two bags of Haribo were slaughtered, and thus supported with a sugar charged surge of dopamine we took to the field ready to challenge. So we passed the ball right, and we passed the ball left, we won a short corner; we didn’t score. We passed the ball left, we passed the ball right, we won another short corner; we didn’t score. We passed the ball right, we passed the ball left and we scored! But not before the whistle was blown for a short corner – did we score? No. The ball was put back in the play and we resumed our pressure cooker play, and with our crosses worked on improving our hand eye co-ordination as they zipped past just out of reach. Though the pressure was not all in our hands and as the ball escaped our clutches there were some close skirmishes down on our baseline (and goal line). However, eventually we managed to coax the ball past their goalie and her octopus limbs. In the haze of the battle no-one on the pitch or off knew, but confirmed by umpires post match as 4, and thus the L4s unbeaten streak was ended, and with it our third Labour.

The important details:

Proof levels: a season high of 33%
Pompoms: 0
Mixed metaphors: too many to count
Number of items now on the list for being stronger than my nose: 4

*look closely at the ceramics and the Elgin marbles and it is possible to see evidence of the of the “Mighty Fours”** In fact there are whispers that tell that they originally helped Hercules capture the hind by tying it’s feet together with shoe laces...
**TM 2015
*** at least until early next year