12

Sometime in the past...
Its September 480 BC Sparta, the Persian army is advancing and the L3s are already deep into their pre-season training. Lies. As some saying, by someone, says: history has a way of repeating. Like every beginning of the season that has ever been, and will probably ever be, the start is upon us - a total expected surprise. With only 8 having heeded the call to arms by Tuesday, there were rumours of concern around camp that we stood contemporaries, if not in time, but at least in spirit with the 300 Spartans *that took their stand at the pass of Thermopylae: a bloody stop gap, to allow absentee team mates to finish the dregs of their pina coladas and get the shin pads back on.

Sometime slightly less in the past...
Its September, the Borders, recruiting issues have been addressed and the A68 tackled. Having cast ourselves as the Spartans, we are now possibly the Persians, though without the hundreds of thousands in reserves. Regardless, we fretfully stand waiting for the whistle, desperately trying to shake off the unanswered question about what press we were running, and whether that was mentioned in the team’s copy of The Art of War; it mentioned something about deception, topography of battlefield, morality and....

The whistle is blown, and the barely-suppressed-eagerness-to-pelter-us-with-hard-hitting-hockey-from-the-potentially-non-lactic- acid-producing-youth-of-the-opposite-team is unleashed. To those familiar to our hockey work of yester season, it was with a wry sigh of relief that we didn’t concede a goal within the first two minutes. Instead we took to running.

We passed it there, we passed it somewhere over here, we passed it/ nope that’s definitely the other team. We travelled up the pitch, a gargantuan hit from the sweeper on the other team had us scrambling backwards. After sustaining some heavy fire in our half we finally took up defensive positions for a free hit on the 25 line. It was only after the ball was hit straight and true in to the D to receive a neat touch up on over into the goal, did it dawn that it mattered which side of the line the ball stood.

1-0, and we are back to being Spartans. We resurged and after some more running (and passing, and other hockey related stuff) we began to get some short corners. We did not begin to convert the short corners, but the pressure, as they say (maybe), the pressure was on the other foot! The D began to become a very popular place to hang about, eventually a rebound from the goalie, found a stick with a gap and an aim.

1-1. And half time, and half-time with sugar. A fine selection from Nestle, Bassets and Haribo – much like the BBC we like to demonstrate that other confectioners are available**

A handful of restorative sugar too many, and we were back. The second half followed much of the pattern of the first. We passed it there, we passed it somewhere over here, we passed it sometimes to the other team. We travelled up the pitch, a gargantuan hit from the sweeper on the other team exposed the gaps, and we were back. We sometimes managed to avoid their double tackles, we sometimes did not. We got some short corners. We still did not begin to convert the short corners, but there were moments of coach proud hockey, triangles and everything. We were just two teams getting to know ourselves, and each other. They may not have had arrows, but we were playing in the shadow of our own fitness, or at least the rasping breaths and hacking cough from the back right providing much inspiration to the opposite’s coach. At some point it could have looked like a very highly multiplayer tennis match, hit from end to the other. Or at least it would have if the youth didn’t keep running.

Eventually, after what appeared to be at least 2497 years the whistle blew for the final time, and we could stop. Sparta was safe***.

Goal scorer extraordinaire: Holly Wilson
Ably assisted by: the opposition Goalie (can we claim those fantasy hockey points?)
Women of the Match: Amy Lee

*actually more like 300 Spartans, 700 Thespians and 400 Thebans, but hey, who doesn’t like some creative liberty?
**Though willing to shut this door for a sponsor – though not you Mondelez International, there is no forgiveness yet for the great Crème Egg debacle of 2016
***at least till next week.