The first week of preseason started with Heany Seany’s 20+1th birthday party and it was not to be missed. Highlights for freshness go to Kabir who tired himself out shouting his new favourite word, (can you guess, it rhymes with dagger) before putting himself in the Kabin because he drank too much Kabeer, Silver for injuring himself for two weeks with nothing but his inhaler and no-one else because the freshers don’t really understand what’s going on yet and keep on running off back home.
Tuesday was a hint towards what would come at the weekend with Greg Tyler, our new El Capitan, following up the 3 hour away day in Richmond on Saturday, with a closely fought 8-0 loss against Cam city. It was at least nice to catch up with Judas and Groundskeeper Willie – playing hockey with them really felt like the old days because Ferg still didn’t talk to us. Who would want to play in the National League anyway.
Wednesday night involved scouting for our fantasy teams with a big watching of the WuhBlues vs. cam city. Fortunately Tyler, Seb and Wang managed to watch hockey and drink more responsibly this time around and made it to Hawks alive.
Freshers be warned:
The freshers got their first taste of Toma which again ended wrong for some and even got to meet Jean, one of our pensioners for the year, who decided to show up in kit to prove to Tyler that he’s willing to put extra mile on and off the pitch. Nice work Jean.
This brought us to Saturday with everyone keen to find out the results and see if they would do well enough to stay interested in managing their fantasy team past week 3. We lost 10-1 which was really sad and probably not the best start to the season. Johnathan. J. P. Parke won man of the match for trying really hard to track back and I got DOD for wearing vests and drinking Belgian beer which I think is pretty unfair because Jack and Bill are massive queffs and Sean PMB’d for his birthday.
Some people would be quite forgiving of a vice-captain thrusted into a role they were perhaps unprepared for.
Especially when the proper captain abandons ship after just a couple of heavy losses.
Alas, as I found out today when discussing my unfamiliarity with team sheet procedure, the deals were quick to pounce inbetweeners-esque upon any utterance of the word sorry.
Never mind the fact that Sean decided to sack off bowling with the boys to stay in and watch bake off with the girls.
In addition, his performance as an umpire of the WBlues on Wednesday left a lot to be desired.
Surely these criminal offences would cement a man as DoD on any normal week, however this was not a normal week.
As I discovered the hard way, they pale in comparison with attempting to complete the team sheet at teas.
Before I enter into a rant that takes up the entirety of my match report I should probably talk a bit about hockey.
After last weekend’s performance brought us back down to earth in quite an abrupt manner, we looked to build on the few positives we could find.
Deciding that we’d get better results if we scored more goals and conceded fewer goals we thought we’d work on both attacking and defending in training.
Going to training on Monday we thought perhaps we’d be in for a lighter session considering Charlie mentioned that we looked quite tired at the weekend probably due to overtraining during the week, oh how we were wrong.
Every drill during the session involved copious amounts of sprinting, something I as a lowly defender am unsuited for.
Recovery became the theme of the week and we decided early on that we’d cut down the number of sessions to allow our legs to rest.
Wednesday rolled around and we had our first match of the year against a team from the famous O*ford poly.
Having been the third most selected player in CUHC fantasy for the first week I felt I needed to reignite people’s faith in me after a disappointing -8 points last weekend.
O*ford Brookes thankfully provided an opportunity for me to show that I can actually score goals (admittedly from 6 yards away)
Having sent the keeper the wrong way I decided I didn’t want to miss the goal so flicked it almost as centrally as possible, 1-0 Cambridge.
After conceding two goals we found ourselves chasing the game but, despite playing better quality hockey, we were unable to equalise and the game finished 2-1.
That evening we descended on trinity JCR for the first welfare night of the year but I won’t go into any detail considering most of the club was there.
Every Thursday Charlie decides that, with the weekend looming, we should work on some larger scale tactics that will help us beat the weekend’s opposition.
Since Ipswich in the past have only had one defender who can outlet, we decided to practice how we could stop him doing that and instead pass to his teammates who can’t outlet so we can win the ball.
The wandies team of my second year found that going to hawks on a Friday night before a match helped us to bond as a team, so we decided it’d be a good idea to encourage everyone this year to do it so we can get closer as a group.
Eating both a farm burger and a brownie, I thought, is sure to give me energy for the match the following day.
Despite going two goals down the boys showed strong mental resilience and when the Ipswich keeper decided to plough through the back of Hugo and a stroke was awarded.
Ed Sides, el capitan temporal, stepped up and, in an almost exact replica of Wednesday, sent the keeper the wrong way and dispatched the ball into the middle of the goal.
An equaliser came courtesy of Jean who calmly finished after taking the ball past the keeper, following a lovely build up play.
Late chances were unfortunately not converted despite us dominating for a sustained period and the match ended as a draw.
Sean can count himself lucky that I committed such an unforgivable DoDable offence but next time he’ll think twice before he decides to schweff away from the team.
After a slow start to the season, we drive to our next game in the luxurious setting of Dereham, tucked away in the rolling hills of East Anglia. In the company of Hugo (headphones were not in) and Toby, I was asked to untangle a riddle: name 7 countries beginning and ending with the same letter but not ‘A’? This was completed in a cool hour, just in time for a pit stop at the fine establishment of Londis, in which the wonderful man at the till asked, “fuel or no?” Me replying “no” to which he succeeded with “did you walk to the petrol station”. It was at this point in the car journey that my DOD was secured, in which a non-alcoholic adventure to Ballare was described to Hugo and Toby, who seeing an opportunity, pounced on the ‘naïve fresher’. PMB. A mistake that will not be made again.
Arriving in Dereham, a town of notable history (c.122+1), was somewhat of a dream. The hockey club was situated within the main council estate of the area, a cool ten minutes drive from the centre of town. The pitch was plush. The changing rooms had the necessities and an intimate extra of a conveyer like shower. We walk out to warm up as heroes, the warmup ball imbuing us with confidence and the mud from the second pitch satiating our desire to play. The yellow Saturn balls were unlocked prior to the stick and ball warm up on the pitch, and after a solid set of short corner “binning”, an intense game of possession in the corner, and the odd hitting back of stray balls back to the local farmers of Dereham, the scene was set.
The whistle was blown and after a shaky start, Cambridge concede in the opening 2 minutes after a quick breakaway counter from Dereham. Yet, after consistent movement around the back for the next opening phase of the first half, Cambridge strike back to settle the score at 1-1 with Will Silver slotting one home past the keeper’s right leg. Shortly after, their striker who had previously scored the opening goal, gained the opening card of the match, muttering quiet words of praise as he scurried off the pitch. And another goal for Cambridge!!! That makes it 2-1. A cool, calm and collected finish from inside the D, which ensured a more relaxed mood to the rest of the half, although the pitch was still proving to be unwieldy.
At the end of the first half Cambridge secured the lead and possession stats of 70.1% : 29.9% in Cambridge’s way looked rosy for the visitors who experienced not only village style of Dereham, a prerequisite of everyone in the town being related and their associate long ball merchants who oversaw the territorial breakdown as vital to the harvesting of this game. After delving deeper into the history of Dereham coupled with the observation that “not much has changed” (Brookes, 2019), it is understandable and to an extent almost unmistakable to recognise the correlation between the philosophy of football in medieval England between neighbouring towns, possibly even your cousins in certain areas of Norfolk, and Dereham’s brand of hockey.
Pertinent and wise words from our captain, Ed Tyler, and some words that can only be described as inspired from Seb, we stepped out on to the pitch once more. It seemed as if the team talk had paid off for Cambridge as we looked to pressurise and dominate their backline, who seemingly obliged quivering at the sight of Hugo’s questionable lid. After practicing short corner routines for the whole week, 8.5 hours, for what seemed like an eternity, we were rewarded bountifully as a slick and rehearsed R2 was pulled off, in which Ed Sides perfectly placed the ball for Seb to deflect into the net. As the half progressed Cambridge begun to gain momentum and once again, the Mr Miyagi-like training for the previous week came to the aid of Cambridge again as another corner was slotted past the keeper of Dereham to make the score 4-1. Cambridge for a large majority of the 2nd half seemed to hold the lead well with solid personal defending and good distribution out of the back, however, during the final 10 minutes match some cheap cards, albeit harshly given for one of them, were conceded by Cambridge and lead to a tense finish (a what?) to the match. The final play was a short corner to Dereham and they almost scored but Cambridge’s rock at the back, Ed Sides, was able to a calmly see the ball out.
WOWZA! Would you look how bright they are!! The much anticipated end of pre-season full club swap kicked off the week; located at the world renowned double Michelin Man star restaurant Curry King. Pres were had in a variety locations by a variety of people. The club members descended en mas in their non-baggy non-dull attire to wait in a big queue. Bouncer Billiam ‘Brick Wall’ Taylor did his job exceptionally, keeping everyone in check. Fines were dished out, chairs were stood on, social secs were shouted at and everyone moved on to hawks slightly more binned than they were upon arrival and definitely with more curry inside them.
Hawks was a loose affair, as per usual, with lots of people getting themselves outside a pint or two of Toma. A bit of beer later and the 1st person stream of the evening cuts out due to poor connection, so you’re now experiencing this from a 3rd person point of view.
Around this time, purely coincidentally, some blithering idiot calling himself a social sec starts swinging and clocks his mate round the jaw. It wasn’t long after this that said social sec was helped home to bed. He wasn’t the only early bed goer with anonymous club secretary getting a good nights sleep also. Whilst the debauchery continued downstairs, a solo adventurer found themselves in staggering about the Hawk’s kitchen. Keen for no witnesses, they proceeded to expel fluid from their mouth all over the dumb waiter, not that he would have spilled the beans anyway.
In the words of Seanio Gilmorio – Very bad, Not good.
The culprit of this incident is yet to be identified, if you have any information that could help with this investigation please contact us via email using the address , many thanks.
“Fez!” people shouted.
“Life!” Came the response.
“BIG BIG FEZ”
And the argument was settled, because big was used twice. Also fez was free. The night came to a close and people trudged off to bed, still looking class in their home made outfits. Whispers through the night of a shark in the Cam were met with looks of incredulity from many, but swimmers swore they caught the glint off its shimmering silver shlid.
Not much else happened in the week with term getting underway and pre season coming to end, much to the disappointment of CUHC who had been having a class time playing Maf whenever possible.
The week ended with a home match against and unpredictable Peterborough side. We gave them the respect they deserved but found ourselves to be the better side and on the right side of a 2-0 lead. This was 2-1 by half time and quite incredibly was 2-2 at full time. The boys were stunned as to how this came about but all in all were very pleased with a great performance even if the result wasn’t what we had hoped for. Our target for the month is still on track and the results will come if hockey is played to such a high standard week in week out.
Mom: Matt Roberts, was his birthday or something
Dod: Seb, Assault of a deal, non-assault of the gym
It was the 7th November in 2012 and we’ve got Celtic away in our Champions League Group Fixture.
Wait, can we just sidetrack for a bit and think what a fantastic year that was. The Queen had her Diamond Jubilee; Donald Trump wasn’t elected and of course we had the Olympics hosted in our very own nation. Who remembers Super Saturday? (Doesn’t quite beat Dangerspoons though – why get three gold medals when you can get three shots of Goldschläger). Not forgetting to mention, for the millennials amongst at least, (sorry TJ and Ferg) that these were the prime days of year 7 where you had fewer work, your main concern was making sure you knew 8 x 9. Or was it being allowed to join in a others getting that message back on smn, even though they were last active 17 minutes ago and you’d sent it half an hour ago.
Despite all of this, my personal highlight of course has to be when Chris Brown released the top hit single and to this very day one of my favourite songs, Don’t Wake Me Up. For those of you that are unaware, it is an EDM song that features heavy bass and a repetitive chorus that was written by Brown, Phil “The Power Taylor”, Alain Whyte, Alessandro Benassi, Brian Kennedy, Jean-Baptiste-Queff, Marco Benassi, Michael McHenry, Shwoo Phillips-Edwards, Priscilla Hamilton, Ryan Buendia and William Orbit. The song was produced by Benny and Alle Benassi, David Guetta, Free School, Orbit and Kennedy, and was released digitally on May 18, 2012, as the fourth single from the album. Just a bit of background info really but I find I can really relate to this song on a spiritual level and
Anyway back to the big game. So its an evening one, we like evening games because it means we can all rest up properly without having to compromise on sleep by getting up early. It also means we can give our body all the fuel and nutrients it needs for a high intensity game. So we end up travelling a fair way to go and play. Silly old Pique had forgotten his shirt, classic Pique. But we forgive him because he’s our wannabe captain and also has quite nice, eyes. They’re rather dreamy shall we say… Anyway Jordi Raura gives us an in depth analysis of what kind of oats Celtic like to make their porridge with and how we need to pressure the midfield sensibly because their small bearded bloke is OK! and not to dive in. A bit of a challenge personally when you’re jealous of someone who can grow facial hair, but thankfully Alex Song-Parke hadn’t had a shave since his networking dinner so we had something to show for ourselves.
Now I come to think of it, there were a few of them that missed our ‘match squad training session’. Apparently, if you think you’re pretty good and feel secure as a senior player in the team, despite preaching nothing is set in stone, then you can encourage others to follow suit. So Maschenaro and his little gang went along to this Networking Dinner. Sources say it was quite good as you got free food and stash as well as being able to ask people questions to which they answered to and then getting to ask other people more questions to which they would then also answer to. I don’t know a lot about this myself because I love training but supposedly this helps to create a professional friendship, hence the networking jargon.
So back to our game. For context, I am going to leave the Match Stats below and hopefully that should explain any urning questions you may have that you didn’t ask at the Networking dinner.
|1||1st Half Goals||0|
|3||Shots off target (Shots that the |
keeper let into his goal)
|62||Passing Success (%)||90.9|
|80||Tackle Success (%)||91.7|
|26.5||Territorial Advantage (%)||73.5|
Despite some early pressure, the home team relaxed a bit when Wanyama gave them a sensational lead. We went up a couple of gears and hemmed Celtic in at the edge of their own penalty area for an extended period of time Moments later, Alexis Sanchez glanced a chance from a Dani Alves cross off the post and Celtic breathed again.
The second half began in similar style to the first with us taking control, switching from left to right and back again. Despite all our possession, we looked vulnerable at the back and Mulgrew might have punished them in the 63rd minute when he had a sight of goal but Xavi, our beloved captain, managed to block. Song-Parke was allowed another foul on Miku to the anger of the Celtic fans.
Forster was forced to make save after save from Messi off corner after corner.
But there was much more drama when Watt escaped our defence and Xavi from Forster’s long ball before driving a right-footed shot past Victor Valdes to double Celtic’s lead.
There was bedlam inside Parkhead which gave way to some nerves when Messi, our renowned set piece taker, scored from close range in the 90th minute. But it was to be the home side’s night, and a famous night at that. I could hear the crowd screaming and shouting. In fact they were chanting my name, “Queff! Queff! Queff!” which meant I must’ve played well. Standard. The clapping got louder and louder, until I suddenly heard this banging noise.
I open my eyes and come to the realisation I am in bed. William ‘The Moss’ Mossy Mossman Moss is knocking on my door. I think to myself, what on earth does he want at this ungodly hour in the morning? I then roll over and see my phone flashing before my eyes. I was in shock. Not from the fact that I had no signal from Vodafone UK but due to the fact the clock read 08:01. This meant that I was twenty one (21) minutes late from the 07:40 meet time at Wilby. I then start questioning all my life decisions that have lead up to this point, just like all the geographers do. Like why didn’t I listen to Avicci’s “Wake Me Up” instead of bloody Chris Brown? Plus my week had started off brilliantly, I was back training after a c. two week period of kweffing had come to an end and was back to running-but-not-running. I’d even made sure I went to bed early that night, which meant I had to sacrifice a night with the boys, not a huge loss but nevertheless a loss still. Sadly, that wasn’t to be the only loss of the week.
In the actual match against Chelmsford we also lost. It was basically same as Barca (Blues) V Celtic (Chelmsford) except it was in the morning and Celtic were a bit better in this game and scored another two goals. So 2+2 = 4 (Big Shaq, 2018). Therefore for the historians and linguists amongst us, that means we lost 4-1. So the things to take away from this week’s fable was not to be late because time is important. No one likes it when you’re behind time, whether you have a shlid or not. Don’t get an iPhone, Leng can empathise with me on this one. Finally, make sure you know how bad this loss hurts and what it feels like to cry because we don’t want this to happen again. Thanks Slides.
To write a match report for any Cambridge University side, is to create new gospel. It is to narrate the achievements of some of the most technically adept, physically primed, and mentally infallible characters in the sporting phenomenon that we know as hockey, and even in the context of sport as a whole. Graced with the honour of writing on such a subject however, a number of questions were startlingly provoked, of a truly profound nature. What is a match? What is it to report? What even is hockey? To what extent is it just whole-heartedly delusional to furiously chase a small white mass of pain around a field guaranteed either, to give your knees a less than friendly grazing, or to see you slipping around as gracefully as the Mblues’ latest debutant has slipped into the CamCity 3s?
Regardless of any such existential deliberations, the MBlues were not fazed, and strode onto the turf at Wilby in exuberant fashion, ready to face “East London” – a classically brilliant and inventive club name. Naturally, faced with adidas kit, and a menacing yellow strip, some members of the team may have displayed nervous reservations ahead of pushback. None less so than CBan, however, whose pre-match team talk constituted repeatedly drawing a pair of ears (or some other ungodly appendage) onto a diagram of the other team’s players – labelling all but one of their players “the donkey”. Inspired by the fact that we now knew East London to possess nothing other than some very droopy ears, we filled a short interlude with a discussion pertaining to nothing short of rocket (car) science – “if a car is going at the speed of light, then what happens to the lights?” In true style we formed some focus groups, and having condensed our hypotheses and theses into those intriguing, and those totally useless, we trudged onto the pitch perfectly in time for pushback. [Webmaster Editor Note: Please refer to Einstein’s 2nd postulate]
Unfortunately the intensity of our pre-match preparation appeared too much for our own good, as the final whistle went with the score 2-1 to East London – very impressive goalscoring for a team of mules, but even more impressive how they managed to find some astros to fit over those hooves. The character of the match was probably best summed up by front-man Hugo Parry, whose frustration at the inordinately terrible umpiring decisions plaguing the opposition D led to him hurling stick, shin-pads, and water bottles to all corners of the pitch – and certainly required a “Parry” or two from a number of the spectators (apparently awful puns grant good luck for the weekends’ games). All in all, the match was one of vicissitudes – elation when H. Atkins skipped past the final two East Londoners on his way to an open goal… crushing sorrow when he slipped it wide of the goal. Despite this, he went on to win MOM, so the Mblues certainly know how to cherish greatness. Following the match, the team chowed down to some energising nourishment – however the dire state of one slippery member’s PMA was easily enough to put everyone off their food – reminiscent of the wild west, it came as a surprise to the group that a gun wasn’t holstered underneath a short-sleeved shirt, and as a result he had to be fined for not chewing enough tobacco during the game. A team of principles, vicious intellectual debate, and rigorous standards, the Mblues move onto next week, not with a mentality to “go and give”, but by all means, to “give”, and indeed, “go”.
As a mere freshling, I would but err from the audacity to claim sufficient expertise to comment on a week of swaps, stars, and matches. However, with it being said that “Huge Jacked-mans’” performance was the epitome of the worst show rather than “The Greatest”, the lofty task of summarising such a frivolous week has been landed under my dutiful observance, and narration. A step back into last week (granted, into last year if Campkin’s step is the object of our imagination) calls for a discreet yet penetrative analysis of the collection of swaps culminating in a night of culture, bright lights, and fluids, at the lovely Fez, on Sunday night. Now, according to hatsandcaps.co.uk, the Fez symbolises “the oppressors”, and I can indeed confirm that Fez (the club) lives up to the reputation of its fraternal appurtenance – a sweat-riddled ceiling, a bouncer whose tattoos said more than his voice, and sporadic chunder residue pertaining to nothing other than complete and utter oppression. Luckily however, all parties present were in good spirits, much owed to the captivating congeries of outfits that were observed at the relevant swaps. Remarkably however, Lionel Messi made an appearance in two different outfits, sporting two different physiques – rumour has it that its part of his most recent tax-dodging routine… Regardless of the fripperies associated to “the two Messis”, one of them certainly hit his “Powerade” with gusto on the evening, evidenced by his resulting intimate, yet captivating pole dance with what can only be described as a kitchen mop. Whilst this was going on however, there was entertained an excellent rendition of “get to know the freshers” (having been forced to take part countless times now, my tiny fresher brain is beginning to question if anyone will ever “get to know me” – yes Dad, university is really hard L), which brought up some ground-breaking, soul-shattering, and utterly shocking information, with one fresher confessing that “my hair isn’t actually red”. Luckily other freshers brought the pack to the forefront with excellent stories about their (not Johns-esque) holidays, and the evening was back on track. With Duckers’ house sufficiently trashed, and one of the Messis now thoroughly transformed into a self-confessed “filthy, dirty slut”, the night took a ubiquitous turn as we migrated to Hawks’. A step into Hawks’ greeted one with an enthralling bustle, a sense that great things were in the making, and afoot. With Sean and JP behind the bar, such expectations were only raised further – for the time being, the King Shark was safely “behind bar(s)” – although that certainly wouldn’t be the case when an unnamed fresher was hovering alarmingly close to his genuinely unconscious jaws. Consequently, Hawks’ proved a point for reflection, and recuperation – whether that was sullenly staring into the bottom of a pint, or indeed the water of the nearest toilet. Moving relentlessly forward though, the club proceeded to the anxiously anticipated confines of Fez, to be greeted exuberantly by… no-one. With Fez seeming more likely to be an acronym for “Frankly empty zone”, it was down to CUHC to make the most of the location, and we certainly did, with conviction truer than Tyler’s shadmin.
Although Sunday proved an excellent warm-up for the Mblues (and approved by stretch-master “Daddy” Leng) , it was by no means the main event before Saturday’s match. No, Wednesday played host to what has been officially recorded as “the highest concentration of musical talent in once place, since ever.” With 5 steely competitors thrust under the spotlight, having been graced with 10 days to prepare their piece, the venue was hushed, and braced itself for musical enlightenment and epiphany. Our thanks must be extended to the judges, whose catchphrases and opinions (although occasionally being met with flat-out abuse) were expertly exacted, and left no one but the performers in 2nd, 3rd, 4th, and 5th disappointed. Despite any begrudging remarks from those who didn’t quite have what it took to ascend to the dizzying heights of victory, the sight of “Daddy” Leng’s boxers providing the foreground to some excellent strumming was certainly enough to pip first spot – a performance to be remembered across the generations. Reports asserted that one performer’s decision to consume a bottle of wine beforehand dented his chances of a polished performance – it has been said that he claims he was only “getting into character”. With such a level of musical talent reverberating around the venue, the Mblues sought out the perennial core of musical excellence – Cindies. With music covering all corners of the evening, and plenty of DODable offences committed, the team was in all ways, ideally prepared for the clash at the weekend. Special thanks must go to Captain Tyler, who selflessly opted to escort his (ex) supervisor home, even walking directly past Sidney Sussex (putting her safety ahead of his own) and subsequently sacrificed an unchallenged night’s sleep.
The weekend proved an infrequently befuddling match. Jean wrestling an angry man on the floor; Duckers’ stick being thrown into the crowd; Tyler being, in pure essence, shoulder charged into Liv Shears’ bedroom, and a goal thrillingly scored in the last play of the game – it was by no means a placid affair. Despite this, it can be said with assured conviction that the week’s preparation came to perfect realisation in the Mblues’ performance, whose cheery and unified spirit proved dichotomous with the Cambridge City 2s, whose incessant attacking of each other, our players, and the umpire, suggested that they caught a glimpse of the weekend preview, and reading it a little too literally, approached the game as the Hunger Games, rather than a (mere) hockey match. With the final result a draw however, a structurally sound base has been laid for the Mblues, who “remembering how it feels” to lose, had collectively vowed never to do so again – the weekend’s draw, only the first such proof of this.
In a rather uneventful week which saw the Mens Blues kick off their BUCS campaign and some poor bloke getting burnt whilst everyone oos and ahhs at some bright explosions in the sky (very strange cult like ritual if you ask me), there were a few incredulous stand out happenings worth mentioning in this here match report.
A certain ‘chap who has some non-friends on tall mountains’, despite being named on the team sheet, was not present on the coach to the biggest away day for the mens blues this season, until they go to the same place again and then further on another occasion and then less further on another occasion after that.
In his place was his name sake, ‘chap who has some non-friends on tall mountains’ v2 who put in a very respectable performance in aiding the side to a 3-3 draw against a side who threatened and have beaten a certain Oxf*rd side in the BUCS league already this season. A cynical foul by Oily Fatlips lead to his first card of the season – first of many from what i’ve seen, terrible challenge!!.
On the coach on the way back occurred 2 of the aforementioned incredulous stand out happenings:
Number 1 being the lack of visit to the McDonalds that was quite literally a stones throw from the pitch?!?! Shaptain Steve Tyler refused to comment on this debacle.
Number 2 being anonymous Hugh(e) Jack(ed)man’s ability to complete an essay on what can only be described as an incredibly loose boozy bus with many a triv question being answered.
Number 3 on the list was the outstanding time we made on the return journey, weaving in out of traffic on a jammed motorway. The driver was later spotted “killing it” on the dfloor of cindois. I was absent for the rest of the week until the game on Saturday having a lovely time so am unable to comment on any events that may have occurred though I hear there may be a few call ups to the England side from the mblues after their loss to the James MBE in the final. Nothing much to say about Saturdays game other than that they had a donkey in almost every position across the pitch.
Mom: not sure
P.s. will someone please dethrone Obi Wang Kenobi at the top of the fantasy league he’s WAY to happy with himself!!
Over the past £20,160 (in matchday fines) the men’s blues have unleashed their secret weapon. No, it’s not Olly Phillips’ entirely natural rig (it must be natural, because he never gyms, and rarely turns up to S&C). Nor is it James and his giant peaches, despite Norwich’s intense focus on neutralising them (more on that later). The secret weapon is our feelings. Aside from Sean and his fellow Chunderers who stubbornly refuse to rehabilitate themselves into the wider group of non-toxic MBlues, we have made real progress in becoming less fragile defensively, whilst also avoiding fragile and toxic masculinity. We remember and discuss our feelings. More specifically, we remember how this feels. ‘This’ being ‘winning’, and the ‘feeling’ being ‘a winning feeling’. We are as in touch with our feelings as we are in touch with whoever we’re marking in the rouge (red) press. As an homage to this positive progress we have made, I will describe my own emotional rememberings of the rollercoaster that this week has been.
Today I was happy. There are several reasons for my happiness. The first was of course our huge win. Borussia Mönchengladbach beat Werder Bremen 3-1 to maintain their position at the top of Germany’s Bundesliga. C’mon the boys! The second reason is of course Strength and Conditioning! I love nothing more than spending time in the gym, although I am getting a little worried that my rig is complete, and that all the work I am putting in at S&C is doing nothing – it’s hard to improve on perfection. Thirdly, I spent the evening teaching Jean and DJ how to play risk – helping others is always fun! And finally, on a note of fewer importance, Cambridge University Hockey and Touch Rugby Club’s Men’s 1s earned their second win of the season yesterday, to put them in a strongly-mediocre lower-mid-table position approaching the winter break.
Hi again Dairy,
Today I was cold. I actually went to some lectures today, and vaguely attempted to do some work, but it was quite a cold day. I also registered to vote, because I can’t spoil the ballot in protest against the evil of capitalism without registering. Fortunately I had training this evening, and so I was able to practice my touch rugby skills, and show off my fresh new astros! It was really cold though, and I need to remember gloves for when I’m cycling next time. Damn all those Chunderers who skipped training for their disco.
Today was boring. Was nice to have loads of shandies in Sidbar in the evening though, so I can be severely hungover for Wednesday!
Today I was Greg (arious). Plymouth at home was set to be a thriller – we’ve had some real contests against them in the past. Sadly, the only contest was about how many goals Ed Sides could score (1), and how many Matthew Thomas Milward Roberts could steal (4). Following on from Plymouth, I went to a talk about Palaeoceanography and some other science (because I do lots of science, all the time). Lots of wine was consumed, because it was there, and it was free, which is basically free money. This was where the evening began to escalate. I followed the well trodden path from Sidney -> Sainsbury’s to buy myself a vegetarian pizza, because I love the environment almost as much as I like talking about how I’m better than other people because I don’t eat meat. I also need to remember to put all the MBlues down for veggie teas this weekend, to offset the evil work of our former teammates Fergal MacNib, and Kieron Gilmoor (who CBan says is Shaun’s older brother). Then came some more escalation. A large Hawks followed on from the pizza, where myself and a load of boring old people with silver shlids (well at least one had some grey visible on the Sides) played a load of drinking games that (a) make no sense; and (b) weren’t as fun as a good ol’ game of twenty-one. I had already purchased a ticket for a Cindois of the Wednesday variety, and so it follows that I then went there after Hawks. Cindies was fun: some kind soul bought a load of tequilas, and Silver’s girlfriend didn’t call me a ‘boring 4th year’, as she so often does. Following Cindies, I went to the Van of Life for some unnecessary chips, and then followed this up by returning home to Sidney.
Sorry, but I’m feeling rather fragile this morning following the sending that occurred on Wednesday. I’m just very tired/hungover. Thankfully I don’t have any contact hours or lectures or any of that university nonsense, so I can just sleep, and prepare myself for the big game of touch rugby this evening.
Today I’m back to my excitable, bubbly self. All that is standing between me and matchday is 1 essay and 1 video of Bill Taylor singing along to his favourite artist, uncovered by the investigative journalism of @General_Baz. Suffice to say, the video of Bill Taylor impeded my attempts to overcome the essay, but I managed it, just like my gym-buddy JP managed to bench a 1-rep max of 100kg. We’re pretty similar strength-wise. You’re welcome for the shout-out by the way.
Today I remembered how ‘this’ feels. Because we won. I was especially happy because I didn’t make a single mistake in the match. I wish I could say the same for poor James, who had his Giant (now severely swollen) peaches savaged by the Norwich defence, and was left “lying on the cold hard ground” (to quote Bill Taylor singing his favourite song). Failing to keep a clean sheet for Tony on his birthday was perhaps a fitting end to a week in which the sheets were not always clean. Aside from Campkin, I hope we can all remember how this feels going forwards.
It all started so well. I arrived at the course with a bellyful of fajitas, committing to a solid putting and chipping practice in Spoons. My 15kg / 33lb resistance band (does that unit of measurement even make sense?) helped lubricate the joints for what promised to be a sub-100 round. They always say never to take a practice swing with your driver before the first tee. Well, this was where it all started to go wrong. When you haven’t tried to drive for the green since fresher’s week, the bunker becomes your best friend. In my case, the bunker was a sorrowful bin. Unfortunately, this bin’s wheels came off at Clare bar, where Daddy Leng became Baddy Leng by breaking the first rule: don’t detach from your partner. By this point, Gigi Dunn was so fed up with my drunken dribbling that she took a 6-hour ‘loo break’. Sorry Gigi.
Some kind soul then saw that my bin had no wheels and helped carry it to Hawks. Thankfully, Tyler suggested we share a jug of Toma. What a truly wonderful idea. Truly wonderful. Fast forward 20 minutes and I made a eurekan discovery: who knew that my bin could metamorphose into a larger, deeper and uglier one. Fascinating. However, by the time I made it to vinyl, I was no longer in the poubelle. I was riding a beautiful chariot driven by a muscular unicorn – Johnny Parke. My steed was so faithful, that we shared a bottle of wine (gasoline?) from the Vinyl bar. We had a lovely conversation about long hair, life and inflation. However, this unicorn-cum-engineer offered an illuminating discussion on the structural integrity of Vinyl. Wanting to test his theories, I conducted a detailed survey on the structural and passionate capabilities of the surfaces in Vinyl. My findings pushed the boundaries of human knowledge to such an extent that I was awarded the CUHC MBlues DOD fellowship for the 23rd November 2019 Academic Year.
The Thursday night corner session was a great success. Bannister (2019) had shown the inverse relationship between a good Thursday corner session and the Saturday conversion rate. This relationship continued to hold true on the weekend. However, Jackson (1874) furthered this study in showing that corner success and outfield goals are direct substitutes. Marrying these two pieces illustrates that no matter what happens on Thursday, we score lots and lots of goals. A particular thanks to Saffron & Wild Rice for helping us drive this point home. The bar is now in the exosphere, and so is our direction of travel. Onwards and upwards.
It was with a heavy heart that I packed my stickbag for the very last time before my last ever game for CUHC. It has been a rollercoaster 4 years: full of ups (Varsity 2019) and downs (getting knocked out by Ferg at liftboxing), but 4 years that I will look back on with a great fondness.
However, I still had one last game ahead of me and so I decided to make the most of it and have lots and lots of fun. We all expected a tough match against 2nd in the league, but fortunately Wapping had suffered a few injuries and so had called up some random bloke from their 3s.
COMMANDER INTRODUCES MATTHEW COCKERILL
OOOH (Y) HI (Y) MATT (Y).
Charlie said that he recognised “that one at the back that looks like a thumb” and that he would have “probably lost a few yards since his days at CUHC”, and ME OH MY was he right. He just could not live with my blistering pace and electric hands but oh how he wished he could!! Matthew, if you’re reading this, you keep enjoying those corporate lunches xx.
And so we played some more hockey and found ourselves 1-0 up going into the last seconds of the match.
We won a shortie and soon had it upgraded to a stroke!
At first I thought: “Wooow! It’s a stroke!”
Then I thought: “Oooh this is my last game, I could take this”
Next I thought: “I’m definitely taking this”
And everyone was waving in my direction for me to come and take the stroke and so I waltzed up to the penalty spot and placed the ball right in the very middle of it.
After that, I thought: “Holy flummery, what if I miss a stroke with my last ever touch for CUHC. Everyone will DoD me!”
Then I thought: “Ah don’t worry about that! Just slam it into the goal hole! Bottom right!”
And so I aimed bottom right but the keeper dived bottom right! But thankfully the flick got caught in the hook of my stick and actually went top right and so we won 2-0 WOW NICE.
I thought to myself that was a fitting send-off because I’ve always loved scoring goals and I really loved scoring that goal too.
Charlie said it was really good that we won without actually playing very well which I felt was a bit of a backhanded compliment but after all points are points. Especially important in the double points weekends to get all 6 points and shoot up the league table we noted. We also vowed, as a team, not to forget what winning felt like so that we could all remember how to win again next week. At this point, I began to feel a bit sad as I realised there would never be a ‘next week’ for me after all:((
Fortunately, Duckers used the megaboom to play some megachoons and the youngsters distracted me from my sorrows by explaining to me what a ‘dab’ was as I had never heard of one of these before.
We all showered as usual and then voted on MoMs and DoDs. I received lots of lots of votes for both awards and all because I was leaving. I found this particularly confusing as it felt like I was being both rewarded and punished at the same time. Nonetheless, I graciously accepted my awards before saying my goodbyes and heading to Gatwick for my flight to St. Petersburg. It’s currently negative degrees C here in the motherland and so I’m thinking of sneaking back for one last big night out at Xmas dinner tonight!! This is not goodbye, it’s just ‘until next time’.
All my love,
As another Michaelmas comes to a close it’s a great time for the older members of the team to reflect back on our time with CUHC. As the men’s blues resident Father Christmas wannabe, being the only one with long hair and the capability of growing facial hair (sorry deals but a foam moustache from the beers in spoons last Sunday doesn’t count). It has fallen upon me to write this weeks match report.
As many of you are aware; I’m an extremely talkative person off the pitch. Really the social glue that sticks a conversation together. I can very rarely be found listening to music instead of being involved in flinging the proverbial chat about. However, on pitch this is typically the opposite. Hence my complete confusion when I found out I was DOD this week for apparently chirping too much. I was subsequently forced to eat a cucumber in 2 minutes to alleviate the decibel level so that the wardens of the laws could continue to inconsistently apply their will on the game.
So taking a step back before I ruin the result for you all, the week actually began on Saturday evening (not the Thursday Cambridge would have you believe). After saying out goodbyes to Thomas “TJ Jackson” Jackson a couple of us went and kept Sean and Cockers company in Hawks where we reintroduced mexi-three man (Jim Dickinson et. al, 2016).
Sunday then began gently with a few Christmas songs at the Jim. Unfortunately this week we were unable to give our chests the present we all wanted to and so had to settle with a boot camp style circuits session. Will also somewhat regretted turning up in a Christmas jumper, thinking he’d get away with a gentle roll with the deals before Christmas dinner.
A few of us then preceded to go and watch Ferg McN00b, Kieran “varsity player of the year every year” Gilmore and an anonymous ex-CUHC fresher play some hockey. We quickly got bored though and remember we had much more important matters to attend to.
Cue Spoon: Act I.
I arrived first, of course, and located a suitable area for us to eat and have a few lagers. Then when other people started to arrive the staff decided to come and ask us what we were up to. An anonymous blues fresher then decided to say we were a “local school sports team”, which they seemed happy with. Surprisingly none of us were ID’d after this.
Sean, JP and I then proceeded to mince pies and mulled wine at Hawks, to lubricate the vocal chords before a spot of carol singing. We stoped of at Sean’s on the way though to wrap a few secret Santa presents, we we found JP’s wandies blazer still killing it in Sean’s room.
- To try and shorten the story a little but I’ll just summarise that there were then many mince, a multitude of mulled wines, a couple of carols, Spoons: Act II. Lost in the regal (there fortunately was no spoons 3 as we all know thanks to the reverends speech, the third is just a bit shit) and finally a last college bar stop at Christ’s before we descended on Cindies for the event of the day to finally begin***
In Cindies, some food was eaten, some speeches were made and some presents delivered. I think we can all agree that some of the presents were of varying quality, but all from the very bottom of our legs. After the formal part of the evening had concluded CUHC occupied the dance floor in a dominant fashion. Cutting shapes and chopping drinks. The “what item of cutlery wasn’t on the table at CUHC XMAS Dinner” charity bought took its customary place as the highlight of the evening. Louis “el presidente” Totton Vs. the challenger from ‘shwwooooo’ Oli “never been to the Jim” Philips. It was an even and fair fight with Oli eventually winning by TKO.
The night then progressed to Life, where I departed as I foolishly had a 9am the supo the next day (the real reason I should have got DOD)
Monday then rolled around and as we all got ready for training it got cancelled due unplayable ground, much like Tyler’s phone on tour, however this time the liquid in question was more of the solid variety. It was decided some team food and a Lord of the Yule Log (Sean Gilmore 2019) reunion was in our set so we went to Jesus. I then spend Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday looking at the vortical flow structures of delta wings and their applications. This was fairly interesting but really all I could think about was it wanting to beat West Hearts on the weekend, as we were the only team that could in the entire league (Barlie Canister, Thursday evening at ~7:50 pm).
Saturday then arrived and we set off for the game. This is where an anonymous second year realised he has missed his flight for CUHSKI, as it has I fact been booked for Friday. Fortunately for him there were still some flights available at very reasonable prices, so he booked one of those after he stopped feeling sick. In another car, there were also a few issues with people waking up on time. No points for guessing who’s car was carrying PMB crew.
When we all eventually arrived at west Herts some hockey pretty fucking good
Hockey was played by all parties. With Han even putting Matthew Cockrill on the line for the deals boys at a short corner. Needless to say Cockers definitely came off worse but stopping an almost certain goal. With some excellent game management and playing in the right areas of the pitch we came out on top. 4-3 winners and handing Weat Herts their first loss of the season. After swapping last year the kingslayers really have arrived this season.
DON’T FORGET THIS FEELINjG!!!