The 20+1stof September
Chapter 1: The Bad beginning
An anon tall squanderer woke on the morning of 20+1stof September just in time to catch the all-important shipping forecast. Having carefully considered the stash recommendations, he pulled on all the stash he owned and headed downstairs for some breakfast. After a healthy 5 Weetabix (in case any of you want to know the secret of success), the time came to head to the Wilbefortress and meet the rest of the team.
It was here that the Squanderers encountered the first snag in what was to be ‘The Bad Beginning’. The pavilion was locked, and with it all the items the team needed… ballons, facemasks, first aid kit, keeping kit (not strictly necessary given that they had no keeper). On the upside, there were 15 Squanderers gathered eager to play some hockey, so the tall squanderer decided that whilst they waited for the portcullis in the Wilbefortress to be raised it would be a good idea to try and find a volunteer to have round pieces of hard plastic nailed at them that afternoon. Strangely enough there were few (that is to say no) volunteers. A change of tactics was required. The tall squanderer turned to the honourable(?) social sec of the team, Frallen, and asked in a jokey tone whether he fancied it, and reminded him, after all, that he did FLTS and that as he had not backed himself in his own fantasy team he really had very little to lose. Frallen said he would consider it.
The wait to get kit proved shorter than expected, and it was not long until the Squanderers were climbing into the three cars that were to convey them to Leadenham. Two of these had set off when disaster struck. An anon engineer sqaundie proved himself totally unsuited to his degree by failing to start his car. Apparently you have to turn the key? Realising that hockey is game which is harder to play with ten players than eleven, the tall squanderer made a hasty u-turn to pick up some of those left behind. It turned out this u-turn was a little too hasty and he ended up backing the Squandie-mobile into a parked car. He won’t bore you with the details… but we’ll just say it hadn’t been his finest morning. He would like to take this opportunity to apologise to the six other Squanderers who not only had to endure the constant noise, vibration and general discomfort of travelling in the Squandie-mobile but also had to listen to his expletive-laden rant to himself about being an ‘idiot’. A fair comment, but it must have got quite wearing. Oh also, he did leave a note with his contact details on the other car, in case any of you were worried.
After all the drama of the morning, the journey actually went relatively smoothly. No one got lost, no one crashed into anything else and everyone made it to the pitch for a rather express warm-up. The tall squanderer had decided not to wait for Frallen’s answer about going in goal, and instead told him to put his kit on (easier said than done, given that all 15 players had no concept of how to put keeper kit on) and get in the goal. During the warm-up box he didn’t do too badly. Well, to be honest the tall squanderer would rather have used a Wandie running deflections (any of them…he had watched their short corner practice) if he wanted to stop the ball going in the goal but Frallen looked intimidating enough.
Chapter 2: The Good Middle-bit
Despite ‘The Bad Beginning’, the hockey-playing part of the day went relatively well. After soaking up a bit of early pressure the Squanderers piled forwards and scored a deflection goal from open play…a rarity in Div 3NW. The tall squanderer was beginning to feel quietly confident.
The Squanderers, however, are not called the Squanderers for nothing. Clearly wanting to make a match of it, they conceded a short corner which, after a bewildering right-slip left-slip right-slip combination, led to Leadenham levelling the scores. Things went from bad to worse when a loopy backstick shot sailed agonisingly past Frallen (doing his best impression of a starfish in goal) to make the score 2-1 at half time.
The team talk consisted of a lot of talk about ‘simple hockey’ and ‘patience in defence and attack’, which must have done the trick because soon after the break the Squandies won a short. From this, the ball was put relatively close to the goal where both the Leadenham post-man and anon Squandies fresher clearly forgot that they were playing hockey and tried to play football instead. Silly fresher. Anyway, the umpires decided (correctly) to award a penalty flick. Having a spoon of a stick qualifies you to take p-flicks in the Squandies and so it was that an anon athletic Squandie volunteered himself. His faith was not misplaced. 2-2.
After that two more goals followed in quick succession. The first notable for the fact that it was the earliest in the season that a Botty has ever been scored by the Squanderers. The second for the unusually dynamic passing that preceded it. 4-2 to the Squanderers was the score at full time. At match tea, they all felt pretty chipper with themselves. As the only team in CUHC to win, there was a general consensus that there might be a mass transfer of Squandies into fantasy teams to replace ‘Sides’ (-8?). They even all got home safely (ok… there was another car crash, but this time only one car and some traffic cones were affected… oh and they did initially leave someone behind, but that was soon corrected).
Chapter 3: The Failed Finale
It was then that it all started to go wrong…
You see, the tall squanderer and his faithful sidekick Frallen, being inexperienced in the art of Squocktail mixology and struggling with mental arithmetic, had bought rather too much of each of the ingredients. ‘Quantity is good’ is not the secret to success. And so it was that at 7:26pm the tall squanderer found himself mixing a not-very-sensible amount of a not-very-sensible cocktail which it transpired was to be drunk by a not-very-sensible number of Squanderers (6 no-shows? Poor form chaps).
The freshers (and for some reason the anon athletic Squandie who despite having made exactly the same mistake the previous year decided to dress up) did all look dapper in their black tie. Most of them even managed to make it on time. More than can be said for the honourable(?) social sec who was very late despite his own message to the chat reminding everyone to be on time. Fortunately for him, he was also in charge of bringing the vessels, so proceedings could not begin until his arrival. The Squanderers are not a mean bunch, and so it was decided that the evening would begin with some warm-up games of simple 20+1. The tall squanderer got a bit worried when even this proved too much for some. How on earth were they going to make it all the way through to ‘black white black’? Eventually, however, the freshers began to understand (with the help of a lot of coaching) and some new rules were introduced. It was at this point that an anon fresher decided to make an appearance (27 minutes late…dangerous). Not knowing any of the rules, normal or additional, and particularly confused as to why he appeared to be called ‘Ibble dibble number Adam Shafiq’, he really struggled. Mind you they all did.
By 9pm the details were all beginning to get a bit blurry. According to the schedule, that was time to be heading to Hawks to rendez-vous with the rest of CUHC. The Squanderers did foray to Portugal Place only to find it suspiciously quiet. Rumours then began circling that John’s bar was the place to be, but apparently none of them were in a fit state to be allowed entry. Probably justified. Stymied, they decided to retreat and drink lots of water in the hope that they might once more become respectable, or at least that was the plan. For some inexplicable reason the honourable(????????) social sec decided that actually what was required were some beers, a decision which proves just how wrong things went. At some point the news came in that Jesus lane was where they were meant to be, only to get there and be told to ‘get out we’re cleaning’ and ‘go to Spoons’. Go to Spoons they did. Unfortunately, the memo about getting intoSpoons didn’t reach many of the team. Numbers are hard to work out, but a reliable source in the Wandies tells me that maybe as few as two graced the Regal with their custom. Personally, I think a few more may have made the grade, but not many.
The others, left bereft of purpose outside of Spoons, patronised various other institutions in Cambridge: the Van of Life, the Van of Death, Gardies and Maccies were all visited. At time of writing, it appears that they have a full roll call, although if anyone sees a wallet, a pair of shoes or a white t-shirt literally anywhere in Cambridge assistance would be greatly appreciated.
DoD: Fraser Allen, MoM: Sam Reynolds
No Match Report Submitted 🙁
DoD: Fraser Allen, MoM: Patrick Leong-Son
No Match Report Submitted 🙁
MoM: Ally Macdonald, DoD: Rob Gorgy
No Match Report Submitted 🙁
MoM: Jallen, DoD: Sam Reynold’s
Facing Cambridge South the Squanderers were understandably confident, having surprisingly not yet squandered a game. Thus, perhaps unsurprisingly, the team was quickly 2-0 down to South early in the first half. Some proposed this was due to the strenuous unusual cycle to an away game. However, the captain would have none of it (having ‘fallen’ preceding the game at Wilby and requiring first aid that would delay him sufficiently to get a taxi along with Keeper – Will). Anyway, somehow the Squanderers then bucked another historical trend and ended up coming back to win 3-2. While perplexing the calibre of these performances may be, fantasy teams are now loaded with squandies, suggesting others back the run to continue in the coming weeks.
MoM: Sam Reynolds, DoD: Sam Reynolds
Ely City, a game on a wet and miserable day. Fortunately, it was not too hard to find motivation, with Maccies, KFC and Pizza Hut all a 2-minute walk from the pitch. Indeed, the warm-up lap of the car park met with a few words of support from the KFC fans, shouting the motivating words of support ‘Runoff those chicken wings!’ These words took effect and the Squandies went onto score a grand total of 7 goals while maintaining a clean sheet. With the Squanderers now seriously looking at promotion, the team made the shocking decision to start taking nutrition seriously, thus not attending any of the fast-food giants listed above. Everyone was surprised, none more so than the bar staff in the Ely clubhouse when the team requested only a jug of water and 12 glasses. Surely this new trend can’t continue ??
This has been quite an action-packed week. So action-packed in fact that I must dust-off the advice of my GCSE history teacher (oh so long ago these days) and STOF, that is state the obvious first. The Squandies won again this week, although the outcome was far less obvious than a) it has been in previous weeks and b) your correspondent’s heart would like it to be. Last minute goals scored at the sacrifice of my knees is not how we plan to continue the season.
Having recently taken to flicking through the archive of Squanderer match reports, I was perhaps a little surprised at the uncharacteristically sketchy weekend hockey; according to scientific paper published last year by none other than our esteemed webmaster, the Squandies’ performance is directly correlated to the number of social activities undertaken during the week. A reasonably hefty Cindois and a healthy round of golf logically should have produced a more confident performance.
The original plan for Wednesday was to swap with the ‘Nomads’, who reportedly are a team in CUHC. However, they apparently preferred to go to a ‘birthday party’, for a wrong-number birthday? Anyway, their departure (for the second year on the trot…) left us in a bit of a pickle: ingredients for squock had already been bought, a room booked and cindois tickets acquired. Up stepped the heroine Bedouins, who rescued us from attempting to take on two boxes on our own. The last time that happened, we seem to have distributed large numbers of possessions across the city (see ‘20+1st September – a novella’). The population of Cindies, probably the whole of Cambridge, not to mention the Squandies themselves are forever grateful. The resultant evening is probably best described with a timeline:
8:04 – arrive at Catz to the soundtrack of ‘High School Musical’ (‘It’s all I have in the car!’ – anon. housemate, 2019). Who said we don’t have style?
8:16 – the shocial sec and his faithful sidekick forget vessels, their only responsibility and only contribution (or non-contribution?) to the entire evening.
8:47 – the school disco begins, except because of some serious shadmin on my part there was no music. Suggestions for the name of a disco-without-music welcome.
9:14 – an anon. heroine Bedouin finds a speaker, allowing the ‘real’ school disco to begin.
9:16 – anon. Squanderer commits an offence for which the sentence is attaching his head to the table, where it remains for the next 23 minutes because the rest of us are all having civilised conversation (except Razer – the dynamic shocial-sec-sidekick duo).
9:43 – anon. Wanderers arrive. Not sure why.
9:52 – the school disco ends, and the Whitworth family Christmas (the non-PG rated version) begins.
11:13-11:49 – I ‘lost’ my tie twice, apparently a highly DoDable offence (whilst acknowledging the validity of my election as DoD, I would here like to register my belief that ‘losing’ and ‘having stolen’ are two very different things).
11:50 onwards – amnesia
Pub Golf will undoubtedly be the more discussed event of the week. Not wanting to improve on my actual golfing handicap, I was always going to be content with lots of bogeying (there are advantages to setting your expectations low). I was slightly unnerved, therefore, when I was paired with someone who according to their stash plays blues golf and was enveloped in a group who seemed determined to complete every hole (normally I am very happy to ‘walk down’ a couple per round – saves having to buy too many balls to replace the ones I have spaffed to who-on-earth-knows-where). The addition of another leg to our group did, however, slow our progress to a more acceptable level. My strongest recollection of the whole round was attempting to hole-in-one a Big Mac. This was more ambitious than I thought it would be. Enough said.
Being old, I did not go to Life, and so will leave reporting of events there to next week’s DoD.
After a very tight 2:1 win against St Ives at Wilby the Squandies were determined to come back stronger the next week against rival promotion candidates March Town. Match preparations started on Sunday with a round of pub golf where, except for a few cases of amnesia and bad bloke behaviour, the team escaped relatively unscathed. WMB on Wednesday was controversially held at Robinson which only accepts payment by camcard. Luckily disaster was averted as our great leader Whitworth gallantly put it all on his and the lads enjoyed a pleasant breakfast following circuits, held indoors to aid everyone’s heat tolerance. Match day arrived and all except yours truly made it to the lovely town of March at the agreed upon hour. I unfortunately missed the train and so arrived 10 minutes after pushback, for which error I was planted with DoD unanimously. On a low bouncing pitch the Squandies played much better than in the previous game, forcing large numbers of short corners and scoring 4 of them in total, courtesy of Gorgy, Milner, Pulver and captain Whitworth. Parker made several excellent saves to preserve the lead and deservedly got MoM, after not really touching the ball for the past 4 games. Despite a last-minute goal from March, the game ended 4:2 and marked an impressive win for the Squanderers, given this was the first home game loss of the season for March. The new Squandies ultras made the trek to support star striker Gorgy, much to the happiness of F Allen who proceeded to chirpse instead of watching the game. For this misbehaviour he was understandably fined for hating the Squandies, as was Gorgy and Whitworth disappointed us all by giving them instead of the train wankers a lift to the match tea location. All in all it was a very successful week for the best team in CUHC and we look forward to the top of the table clash at the Wilberfortress next week.
Having spent most of my time in my first term writing endless quantities of essays I was lucky when German-for-yes* grumpily told me to write the match report whilst whisking off to Val Thorens with seven of the (extremely fresh) Bedouins. This finally meant I had something much more important than Tripos to which I could put my new skills. As a result, I am glad to present:
Essay title: Discuss the various antics of the Squanderers both on and off the pitch during the previous week.
An action-packed and varied last week of term was endured by all Squandies, with the week kicking off with an almighty festive bash on the Sunday, with all proceeds drawing to a close with a 4-1 clouting of Leadenham. In this essay it is essential to explore the actions of the entire squad throughout the week and draw a conclusion as to whether we sufficiently killed it.
In true CUHC style it all started in Cindies – Christmas Dinner on the Sunday was then followed (and preceded) by copious quantities of alcoholic beverages. Some poor off-field performances were evident – a cynical attempt by Cheap-asda-clothing-Liverpool-FC-footballer* to convince the freshers to wear olive green chinos was brutally unsuccessful, whereas a Spoons waitress was left very unimpressed by being repeatedly not-outed by what-you-write-before-you-die-in-vogue-coat*. However, this heavily contrasted with the quality moves observed later on in the evening.
Enter Jiminez-you’re-in-text-speak-Binman* MBE – starting with a brilliant piece of chat for the Squandie-loving anonymous WBlues captain (poor-man’s-James-Bond’s, B., ratio-of-inertial-and-viscous-forces*, S. et al  “Blutack”) in Secret Santa. It’s fair to say his antics with the WBlues that night did not stop there, with poor-man’s-James-Bond’s having a similar idea (glad to hear you finally washed your sheets after 12 weeks…never mind). After the food and Whitworth’s enormous speech, a significant amount of amnesia followed. In conclusion, compared to other vintage Squanderer evenings (icing-sugar-brand*, T.  “20+1st of September – a novella”) an enjoyable and much less messy time was endured by all.
Sadness, however, was the overriding emotion in response to the final Wednesday Cindies of term. This came as a result of german-for-yes*‘s amnesia attack; he had completely forgotten everything about a girl he struck a chord with that evening. In other Cindies news, some of us got it wrong again (key-to-fix-your-bike*, F., british-apple*, H. [2018-19] “Getting in the bin”). Weekly fitness was also brutally sacked on Wednesday for the second week running.
As we seamlessly transitioned to Thursday, german-for-yes* preceded to turn up to training in a miserable mood and proceeded to wish that said girl would be found on the slopes in the next week. We are yet to find out the result of this, but it’s fair to say we aren’t optimistic. This episode was nearly as bad as Captain icing-sugar-brand*’s sacking of the last part of training to go to Christmas formal, as well as his horrendous choice of shoes to both training and the game, and his large Selwyn based PMB. These events portrayed a negative view of the Squandies, improved marginally by the lack of showing off to the Beds in training on Tuesday by everyone bar one anonymous Squandies coach (Mr. tickle*, J.  “Endlessly skilling hapless Bedouin freshers”).
To conclude this essay, the match on Saturday will be dissected so as to provide evidence of whether the Squandies’ actions had been successful. All previous questionable actions were redeemed as 10-man Leadenham were systematically dispatched at the Wilberfortress, taking the team to an unbeaten 2019 and cementing their status as the best team in CUHC. A brace from both german-for-yes* and red no. 7* send us on the way to victory, with cheap-asda-clothing’s* reverse finish being a contender for goal of the season. This was carried out despite multiple absences in the forward line. Despite being absent from the evening, I’ve heard a large night was had by any team members not leaving to go skiing, and that “spoons escalation was required” (anon. fresher Bed ). Our hearts go out to Charlotte’s parents on receiving such a baffling text.
All in all, a win to cap off a vintage week in CUHC. Merry Christmas to one and all, and a quick Christmas tip from me – don’t break any of your family’s ankles playing hockey on Christmas Day (icing-sugar-brand*, T. “I’m still gonna try even if I’m against my mum” ).
*Names redacted by the internet controller
For the benefit of those who will be meeting the squanderers at swaps this term (or already have but are suffering from amnesia) this might help you get to know them better. Here is an update on what the squanderers have (probably) been up to over the holidays.
Thomas Whitworth (c) – Playing Hockey
After a very successful 2019 with the squanders, Tom climbed back up the beanstalk to the land of the giants. Determined not to let the performances slip, he trains with his family, even on Christmas day. Maybe this year he’ll have beaten his previous record of 2 family members sent to A&E.
Ally Macdonald (vc) – Killing indiscriminately
Be it frogs, toads, or newts, no amphibian is safe. Armed with a hockey stick to do the damage and earn DoD. Did you know that newts are a type of salamander, and sometimes kept as pets?
Fraser Allen (SS) – ???
Records are short for this. We must start on January 1st when Frallen awakes in a bush alongside the Cam. The wreckage of a punt strewn nearby, clearly commandeered the previous evening. Fraser begins the long walk home past his beloved Perse.
Will Parker (GK) – Training with Sol Campbell
Will has been solid in goal for the squandies this year, and particularly handy with his sliding challenges when 1-on-1. Clearly he’s been learning from the best.
George Milner – Working on his podcast
Not much here. George is nearly as boring as his cousin James.
Jason Allen – In his own bed
After a busy term in Cambridge, followed by varsity ski trip, Jallen’s demanding fitness regime caught up with him and he needed some rest. Also he’s now a self confessed boring 3rd year.
James Burman – Swiping through Tinder
Age is just a number. James demonstrates this with both his athleticism on the hockey pitch, and his willingness to adjust with technology. He has even been seen wearing leggings sporting the Tinder logo, but not whilst walking home one early morning. James’ next frontier is Snapchat.
Mark Roberts – Lonely
Another one of the squandies who went skiing after term. Unfortunately for Mark he was deserted and left to take the train by himself, courtesy of a different squanderer choosing to get a taxi with a group of Beds.
Chris and Elliot Bealey – Running their magic shop
Weasley’s wizard wheezes is a well known shop in the wizarding world, located at number 93 Diagon Alley. What you may not know is that it is owned by 2 members of the squanderers. Marketed as a joke shop, we are somewhat dubious given the standard of chat displayed by the twins. Elliot’s favourite magic trick is appearing in the opposition Dee trying for a goal whilst he’s supposed to be playing half back.
Sam Pritchard – Hiding from the Captain
Sam returned after the holidays refreshed and ready to play hockey. The only problem – he had told the captain he wasn’t available for the match. Despite this he still found a way to turn up to training and Friday night dinner.
Tom Edmiston – Keeping people healthy and safe
Just a shame one of those people wasn’t himself, as he missed the match through illness.
Rob Gorgy – Got the mumps
Avoid at all costs.
Sam Reynolds – In the gym
With Jallen leading the way (joint with George Milner) for goals mostly due to drag flicks, Sam has been getting envious. He hit the weights to try and make himself first choice flicker.
Harry Cox – Running
Harry doesn’t seem to stop running, and the benefits showed as he ran round the St. Neots defense earning himself MoM. Now he just needs to learn how to score, as he kept on running into the keeper. At least he didn’t get concussed.
Henry Pulver – Drinking Huel
Whilst most of us will have enjoyed a roast on christmas day, Henry would have no doubt found a “better” alternative. Don’t bring this up if you have anywhere to be in the following 5 hours.
Duncan Parry – Crying about football
The Christmas period wasn’t the best for his beloved Manchester City, but it could be worse. He could be a United fan.
MoM: Harry Cox
DoD: Ally Macdonald
Free to read through a review of the Squanderers’ 2018/19 season