Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose. Can’t lose!

The third double header dawned and the Friday night lights of Tipperlin were beckoning. We were hoping we could continue the success of our DH weekends. Some of us had strategically timetabled early meetings to ensure access to convenient public transport, some of us were flying by the seats of our pants trying to get to the changing rooms after a late finish and some of us had participated in ritual pre-match baking. The greatest consequence of all these was of course the off cuts of Mrs Sweetman's Tablet (destined for Parkrun). And so we assembled. After a typical pre-match rousing speech by Captain Catie the pilot lights were lit in our hearts and we gleefully pottered down to the pitch, ready for some selfies.

Highlights from the warm up included arguably the hottest current affairs topic… how exactly does one pronounce Pitchero? “Pitcher-roo”, “Pitch-Hero” or ‘Pitch-Hare-O”? My vote’s on the antipodean lilt. Then all I could see on the pitch, and I think that you’ll join me here, were legs. St.Tropez legs! Legs everywhere on the other half of the pitch. Now don’t misunderstand me, there is no tone of jealousy in my voice, empowered women empower women. Some of our team members actually whispered desires for the hues of fake tan on display. I don’t know if I should discuss corned beef now or not? Maybe I’ll save that for later. I think it must be an attribute we acquire with age. I still don’t really understand what it means.

Alas I digress, the whistle blows! Watsonians have pass back! Support gathers on the sidelines. Those pilot lights aren’t flickering anymore. There’s warmth coming from the flames. The first 15 minutes were a taste of things to come. Watsonians did well to keep possession with excellent play between Flan, Heather, Rowan and Neve. Like young hearts, running free, never to be hung up, Rowan passed to Heather, Heather to Neve and Liv and the onslaught of possession in Ross’s 25 started. Flan was there to send any back that escaped. She was akin to a wall, floodgate or barrier of fire, take your pick. At this moment I would like to compare our play to a crest of a wave flowing up the pitch, not breaking, but that might be too much. Our teenage ninja heroes were flying/ mowing the opposition down. Not all hero’s wear capes. Ours sport smirks and have incredible side-stepping skills. Our Kids ay (Cilla Black accent). More sheer graft by Flan, Mel, Jenny, Imogen and Michelle, we kept the ball where we wanted it. Catie, Jen, Rowan, Turny, Jude and Rozy were grafting too, protecting Sas from the wrath of Ross. Catie in particular managed a stunning clear away from the line and out of the D. Sighs of relief. Followed by some requests to the
umpires, one resulting in them both wearing coloured jackets. We were never gonna give it up, never gonna let us down, always gonna run around and desert them. More play around the centre continued. Unfortunately, then Ross managed to swiftly take the ball down into
our 25 and with a nicely timed hit in our D, and another, we then conceded. The grafting by every single one of us continued though, we weren’t letting anymore in. Some more passes into their D, but no change to the score line. These flames were full on, forget your Bunsen
burners, bloomin’ flame throwers were running all over the pitch. Some more sublime skills from our younger players and then something happened which I didn’t really understand. I’m not sure why one of our players was taken off for a wee chat. More attempts for us on
their goal then the whistle sounded half time. This was within reach, we could feel it. Just at the grasp of our finger tips.

Half time… incredible tablet (I’m a massive Tablet fan, never cared particularly for fudge) and some classic fangtastics. Just what we needed, as well as some wise words from captain Catie oh and a reminder about what Ben was trying to get us do at training.

Back on. The pace continued. The crowds were electrified (all 21 people). JUICE was getting some fabulous breaks and then, behold magic. Flan had the ball (again, she wasn’t letting it out of sight), storming up through the centre, she passed 2 players, sending it up to JUICE,
ahead, no defenders left. Out runs the goalie. On runs JUICE, power and pace in her stride. The goalie comes at her, JUICE takes it to the left, then the right, around past the goalie and GOAL! Hallelujah!! Squeals of delight and cheers of triumph all round. JUICE was lit, she was
burning, burning hot. This game was turning savage! Check me out, so down with the kids! Flame flame flame. Winky smiley. Too far, I know. But you won’t if you’re not in our Whatsapp group. Tongue out smiley.

Back to the game! Turmoil was resounding amongst the opposition. To say we were surprising them was an understatement but they weren’t giving in either. The intensity continued. We were running on to the balls. Their apple cart was tipping. Up in their D again we were, whistle, short to us. Neve sent the ball with wings on to Heather, and Heather hit it perfectly. 2-1 to us!!!! Cue more cheering!!! We continued, putting up our fight to the bitter end. Rotating our not so St.Tropez’d legs. They kept pilling on the pressure, trying to claw back but no, we put it back at them. Finally, the whistle sounded.

My first match with the 4s/ in 5 years was back in the Autumn against Ross High, we lost away. This was justice. Proud.

Thanks to Ian for umpiring.

*Disclaimer, apologies if the tans are real, lucky so and so’s!