Inconveniently Inconclusive.

A question not frequently asked is: what does Pitch 3 Goldenacres ; a section of the North Sea circa 1916 and a quadrant of the Klingon Neutral Zone have in common? Aside from the bitter, bitter cold...

The answer lies with the Kobayashi Maru, a Starfleet training exercise looked to test a cadet’s decision making under pressure, specifically the pressure that exists when there is no good option, and always a consequence; whether it’s intergalactic war, violating aid policy; possible mutiny or a heavy conscience. This, at a squint, is almost a seamless match the situation in the North Sea, where Germany’s High Seas’ Fleet is attempting to lure, trap and destroy the British Navy. Who were at the time irksomely running an above average attempt at blockading Germany – something the Navy wanted to continue thus securing dominance in the Atlantic, uninterrupted shipping lines, victory, the fate of the world as we now it etc. etc.

A little further north, and a hop jump and a skip to the left and into the future, with slightly less at stake, stood, amidst a wind determined to scour the pitch and every scrap of skin dry, 22 blue-with-the-cold-knees facing another equally arctic set. The peals of the whistle were still echoing across the pitch when the ball was driven into our territory, and *spoiler alert* didn’t really leave again. Soon the pitch was alive with the sounds of perfectly weighted salvos of big hits, neatly skinned players and bone crushing tackles, (please be upstanding for Louise’s thumb). The ball whipping its way from left to right, from right to left sending us scarpering to intercept, tackle and halt their progress, creating some horrible parody of the bleep test; albeit with the distance becoming shorter as they inched their way up the pitch. These scenes of brutality eventually spilled into our D, and even quicker spilled into 1 short-corner, 2 short-corner, 3 short-corner, 4, 5 short-corner, 6 short-corner, 7 short-corner more; if there was a foul to be committed, we found it, practised it, perfected it and brought it to show and tell. But did they go in? Well, if we have to tell the truth and nothing but the truth - the first one, though thankfully not on the score card as it was deemed not to have left the circle.

Warp speed has not yet made its way to the hockey field thus time has yet to evolve into a variable factor so 35 minutes is, well, 35 minutes. More Jelly Babies are consumed and our trail of bodies grows.

It would be nice to able to report that the second half danced to a different tune, but our knees stood a deeper shade of blue – thank you broken capillaries- as the heavy tackles continued and their blockade kept us contained and corralled in our half. Occasionally our attempts of running the cordon succeeded and we sent long crosses the sailed gleefully through their players across their D, straight to the back post, passing in front of our gasping sticks: a brief moment of hope that soared past before we slotted back to our routine of 1 short-corner, 2 short-corner, 3 short-corner, 4....

It is at this moment, the wish for a Captain “I don’t believe in non-win scenarios” Kirk of our very own was probably strongest, alas it was not to be (the paperwork alone) and instead we had to console ourselves with a memento, in the medium of makeup, of a full face imprint on the back of our shirts. It is rumoured that when the wearer moved it winked – though whether in tones of mockery or encouragement that has yet to be determined. February’s task.

Goal scorers: NA
Short corners successfully defended: 73 (give or take a few)
Bones fractured: one
Blood vessels ruptured: At least enough to circumvent the earth twice
Man of the Match in unanimous fashion: Hannah Simpson