To London's glamorous West End, and the annual end of season Spencer Hockey Ball. I can feel your jealousy. And what a splendid time it was. Everyone was there, from the Doc and JP skulking (with me) largely on the sidelines, Francis and Kirk, the smoothest operators in the world and Kerr, the professional Aussie. I took not one but TWO dates with me, and very well received they were too.
In a surprise move, I was voted Player of the Season. I should reassure you, my fans, that I am going to try hard not to be changed personally by this honour. So many people have won this award and let the success go to their heads, but not me. I am going to continue to give to you, my people.
I did some sort of reluctant ironic dancing, which was in stark contrast to Hendy, who sort of comes alive with loads of surprise moves when on the dance floor. Its quite a spectacle. I prefer to sort of lurk in dark corners, moving as little as possible, hands in pockets except for the occasional air guitar or microphone when the riddims get me.
Showing posts with label hockey. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hockey. Show all posts
Sunday, 1 April 2007
Saturday, 24 March 2007
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.
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.
Saturday, 17 March 2007
Staines
I know after my last post you must be dying to know how we got on at hockey this weekend. Well, the bottom line is that we ground out a scrappy 2-0 win against Staines. That leaves us 2nd, already promoted with a game to go.
In two weeks time we have the much anticipated hockey ball, at an exclusive central London hotel. This is when the player of the season will be announced. I bet you can all hardly wait and I must say, it is tense.
I have voted for Geoff, our new commanding centre half. He gave me a lift to the tube today, but that had nothing to do with it and did not sway my decision.
In two weeks time we have the much anticipated hockey ball, at an exclusive central London hotel. This is when the player of the season will be announced. I bet you can all hardly wait and I must say, it is tense.
I have voted for Geoff, our new commanding centre half. He gave me a lift to the tube today, but that had nothing to do with it and did not sway my decision.
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