Final match of the season

I know there are many hundreds of you who are now confirmed Spencer Harlequins fans. So, I am pleased to announce that we won our final game of the season, finishing second (see Division 5) only to Guildford - they of the dubious pre-game huddle and commitment to nicknames and bandanas - always signs of hockey players gone bad.

This was a game where we idled through a first half, as though all of us happened to be in the Coulsdon South area anyway, and had decided at the last moment to have a knockabout. With our daughters. Dressed as Marie Antoinette. Precious in the tackle and dainty in possession, we trailed 1-0 at the break.

A rousing half time talk from Welshman Pricey had us (well me) fired up for a second half where I think I may have broken someone's arm at one point, and where we snapped into tackles we'd previously chivalrously been conceding like obsequious courtiers. I did lots of snarling and swearing which, basically, I love.

Relentless waves of white crashed upon our opponents goal and you wondered if the Gods of suburban South London were mocking us. Finally we get one from Big Eddie and then sneaked another. Even to the last we attacked, and justice was done. And I do think of it as justice too.

Back to their clubhouse, Francis the captain talked about his Polish date (firm body, well maintained, but we had nothing in common, you know?) and Eddie told us about the voracious demands of his Serbian girlfriend.

I talked about the empty existence of the shoppers as we drove home through Tooting, their bags bulging full of tat. Another season over, maybe soon I'll have to join them. But as I stared out through steamy car windows, and listened to the chat of my mates over Radio 5 Live, I thought not yet. Not quite yet.