First of all, we sincerely apologise for the lack of reporting on BDotY. The CUHC media team and its trusted affiliates were very busy playing and/or coaching… Second of all, the threat of storm Dennis to BDotY was a big con. He offered nothing in Oxf*rd. He’d have fitted well with the dark blues…
For clarification, the results were as follows:
|Blunderers||Sp*radics||12:00||L (0-0, lost shuffles)||Tristan Hipper (Mbappe into Flintoff transition)|
|Bedouin||M*vericks||13:30||W (1-1, won shuffles)||Izzy Clarke (scored plus played very well)|
|Squanderers||Infr*quents||15:00||L (1-0)||Thomas Whitworth (played seriously well)|
|Nomads||R*dicals||16:30||L (0-0, lost shuffles)||Frankie Harley (played very well and presumably ran a lot)|
|Wanderers||Occasionals||18:00||W (2-5)||Julian Wreford (scoring in our goal from impossible angles)|
The day before (-2 bouteilles on Phil O’clock) – DBBotY
The weekend started poorly on Friday with several games being called off. The Squanderers put 11 past Bourne Deeping which secured them promotion. A huge congratulations. The women’s blues faired not so well. But they did not receive a wapping that a pessimist may predict when playing 2nd in the League.
With the amuse bouche out of the way, CUHC moved swiftly on to planning their missionary work to the unsacred lands, far east of Milton Keynes. The bus journey began strongly, with Giacomo Dickinsoné and his mob murdering two influential villagers, D.I. Houghton and Mr Chandelier. Despite Pritchard deciding to bomb, what was very clearly the remainder of the constabulary, the villagers were finally defeated by Dickin’s sons with only five people still alive. With the bus now free of the threat of racketeering, the more competitive-but-wholesome activities took place. The Sqwanomaderers quiz was ultimately won by the Nomads, whose choice of a Gossip Girl trivia round aided them dearly. The Master of Quizzes “correctly” decided on a “draw” at the fifth attempt at “adding” the points, having seen the Squandies stuck on four no matter how many questions they got right. This prompted questions as to whether or not Owain is deaf in his left ear, but he didn’t hear them so carried on regardless. In the tie-break, the Wanderers rendition of “Walking in the air” by Aled Jones was outstanding, but Krystal’s commitment to “I’m gonna be (500 miles)” by the Proclaimers stole the show.
By this point, we had sadly arrived in Oxf*rd. Expecting the worst of Storm Dennis by now, we were pleasantly surprised. Storm Dennis was at this point, akin to *UHC on the Facebook event. Throwing down a large quantity, but the overall quality and threat was poor.
While chefs Whitworth and Boeuf Bourgogne rustled up a fantastic spread of 12 kg of Pasta with various saucy accompaniments (and saucy they were), I’m told the Nomads and Beds had cash to splash. No observations of such activities were made, as I spent the evening washing up and politely asking the Squandies to get out of the kitchen.
On our evening stroll around Oxf*rd, I was able to deduce a few things:
- It is bigger than Cambridge, but the quality is more diffuse. Since concentration is inversely proportional to the square of size, it is trivial to see that it is lower quality.
- I don’t know where anything is, and I can’t really offer a tourist’s insight since I was on a business trip.
The evening was then quite calm because not even I can sustain that level of excitement for £720. We played some codenames, corridor cricket and watched Totton sweat at the thought of Denise bearing all.
The Big Morning (0 Bouteilles on Phil O’clock)
All systems go, except for Dennis. It appeared that Dennis had also heard that the fixtures had been condensed into an afternoon of good-to-poor hockey. A leisurely morning was not deserved but was available. It was taken, along with the new ball for a testing early morning spell with overcast conditions. The new ball was bouncy, so a quick rule change meant that two hands were always allowed.
After a delightful full English, I had chosen to chop the Lemon Juice with Vitamin C and Zinc which was surprisingly pleasant. After a quick bit of admin from the oldies, CUHC left the hostel. While Bill was still recovering from his thoughts when I reported from reception that we should strip the beds in the hostel, the Blundies made the rogue decision to walk to Iffley road. For the low low price of £1.43 each, the coaches squeezed into a taxi with keeper kit and ballons, before making it under the shelter of the rugby stands before the rain came. As they say, there’s no substitute for age and experience.
The games (2 1/2 – 4 Bouitelles on Phil O’clock)
Blundies unjustly lost. Fantastic display. After a big night out, Tripper stole the show. An expert managerial decision from Lewis Collins and Owain Houghton to place Tripper in front of the Oxons really brought the best out of him, and even fewer out of the meagre *UHC crowd. Greg meanwhile was explaining to the whistleblowers that the Sporadics had 18 players, and inventing new short corner routines that he’d seen on Monday Night Hockey. King Julian was actually watching the game and actually giving advice to the eleven on the pitch.
Despite long spells of dominance and several good chances, a pretty good display from the Oxf*rd keeper meant it stayed 0-0. Shufflé time. The shufflés ranged from poor-to-below par. Tripper was the only Blundie to score, slotting it bottom middle. His combined routine of Flintoff 05’ and Mbappe 19’ saw him assure MoM for his truly memorable performance in front of the onlooking wrong-shade-of-blue crowd.
In the second game, starting at 3 bouteilles, the Beds took an early lead via a short corner from none other than Izzy Clarke. Sadly, the ball also crossed our goal line between the posts at some point later in the game. This meant it was shufflé time for the second game. In an invigorating 96 seconds of hockey, Emily Smith scored twice, while Rosie Stevenson put on a display in goal that justified the 63.4-year ticket price.
The Squandies dominated. Whitworth was on another level, while Jallen and Rowlands decided to rebuke squanderer tradition by not passing the ball once to the Is centre forward on the 23. While I was having a shower to warm up after the Blundies, I’m told the Is scored a scrappy counter goal. Despite Oxf*rd’s Nunn performing two acts unbefitting of a monastery habitant (he did not see cheese), little else of note happened. As the game came to a close, an increasingly frustrated Cambridge sideline became more supportive of some and less of two others. Whitworth then was silly and got hit in the head. Thankfully, his quick reaction times meant he realised he was concussed only 36 hours later. Get better soon xoxo.
The Nomads then took centre stage in the 3.14 bouteilles pm main event. At this point, a veteran webmaster decided to leave, because ‘I only care about the squandies’. With petrol now only left on the Sidesline, the R*ds cowered to early Nomad pressure. With a string of short corners, the nomads got some good shots off, but sadly insisted on continually hitting the keeper with some well-timed half-volley rebounds. Very sadly, no goals were scored. At this point, Ollie Ollie Rose, Ollie Rose, Ollie Ollie Roooose told me that I had to go warm up. RJ and I begrudgingly went to warm up. However, I’m told from a well-established CUHC coaching source that no goals were scored. Yet another game finished 0-0.
Shufflé time. Angel Austin was resurrected from the village massacre and finally decided to save someone (How can you not save the detective when he announces himself on the first day in the village ?!) by scoring her shuffle to keep the Nomads in it. The only other Nomad to score in the 82 seconds of Shuffles was Sarah Alsaad. Sadly fewer hitout signals were awarded to the R*ds.
At this point, everyone was getting fed up of midfield-dominated games. Thankfully, the Wandies obliged. In all honesty, the Os didn’t really do much wrong, the Wandies were just class.
The game started well. Jonesto Che Parkara was influential in firing propaganda during the Wanderer’s Coup d’État of Iffley road. The ‘stacked column zonal press’ (Trent Coach 2020) was very effective in stopping the Oxf*rd outlet. After realising they didn’t know how to transfer, they kindly gave us the ball back and asked us to have a try. Again, we obliged. jêƒé made a cracking run. With Houghton to the left of him, Jengland to the right of him and Chandler in front of him, he placed it to the back post. An exquisite late cut from chandler beat the onlooking keeper. 1-0. Half-time.
A buoyant team floated on the backboard in the goal. Jelly babies were gladly consumed. Not much really happened. We decided to have a bit of fun and start mixing up our presses. The second half began, and crikey, was it showtime. In some order: A faux-botty from Chandler et al. meant the ball went in the goal. Another faux-botty from Houghton et al. meant Lewis but the ball in the goal (again). A faux-spin meant Deme slapped the dimples of the ball, with Oxf*rd helping to send it top bins. Jim decided that he could take ‘em all on the run of the century. As we looked on, the umpire seamlessly transitioned from foul to shorty to flick. Chandler slotted the flick middle-middle-centre-left. Club top-scorer Julian also found the net, from a near-impossible angle. If only he had a sense of direction… Score 5-2. Now that’s how to play hockey.
Post-match shenanigans (X 0-0 bouteilles on Phil O’clock)
After realising that the O’s are, in polite societal terms, substantially low quality, the Wandies sent them their sad shower playlist, before turning up the tunes and bringing out the quad funnel to get the party started. After Gilmore, the Younger magically turned our second crate of beers into pure foam (pour them at an angle, Sean) we decided to get changed and head to Jamal’s.
Before BDotY, many away varsity freshers asked, “is it like going to Curry King and having a swap?”. *UHC insisted that we would actually be experiencing a “crew date” which is a completely different thing. Before entering Jamal’s, we discovered negative number one, Lydia had taken our money but we would still have to buy our own wine (1-0 Curry King). This meant we had to go and see Lydia’s cousin Londis. The Wandies were sat … boy-girl-boy-girl … with the R*ds for “dinner”. We never have to do this in Curry King, instead, sitting with other members of CUHC and having fun (2-0).
To our amazement, food arrived quickly (2-1) and onion bhajis were provided. (2-2).
This run of positives came to an abrupt end when Jamal’s tried to deceive us by cutting up a couple of naans to make it look like we had more of it! We were not deceived by this. (3-2), but the game of ‘how close can you throw a Naan shard to Oh Wayne’s nose’ did seek R*d approval. The game occurred unbeknown to oh wine, who was otherwise occupied in an intense firefight with a military-trained Cypriot.
When the “first half” of the rice and curry arrived, our anonymous new club captain proceeded to serve himself a portion. To our horror, the R*d next to him announced that food was actually for both of them to share and that he had begun eating all of their dinners. (4-2 to Curry King and a big 1-0 to Ethan).
Three minutes later, all of the food had been eaten. This provided plenty of time for “chat” and playing games. After Jengland was roasted more aggressively than our “chicken” we proposed a game of “The R*ads offer literally anything.” Sadly, the lost the game because they all said the same thing. In polite society, they all said Cambridge has awful conversation starters.
While the Rads offered little the 1derers wans offered plenty and when we say plenty, we mean Jamal’s decided they had seen enough after half an hour and we were encouraged to head off. (5-2 Curry King, not unlike another class win for Cambridge from the day’s play)
After a very quick crew date, we were on the road again and there were reports in oxfo*d of a large group of nomadic people spotted aimlessly 1dering around Oxford with some rather large bags (kind of like DofE but worse weather). We eventually made it to Fever, often described as a poor man’s Life. But money is not the source of all happiness. We were surprised to find out that our new friends the R*ds had forgotten to get their wristbands, but we soldiered on without them into the unknown because it was “damn freezing” and “I’m wearing a bloody vest”. I decided to ring 118 to ask for advice about how to stay warm. They picked up quickly because he was stood next to me but sadly was unable to help. The guy running the cloakroom was immediately overwhelmed and spent the rest of the night recovering from having to lift 90 hockey bags into a poorly designed room.
You may notice that the evening recount has focused largely on the bumbling group of WanWan8 Men but there were apparently some other people there. We had strawberries, choir boys, policemen, lions and then some blokes from **o** apparently turned up (but I’m not convinced they enjoyed their big day out). It all gets hazy from there on out, but there was definitely some minty green – dark blue combos created in the night (Romeo & Juliet and all that). An anon strawberry tried to replicate the O’s toothless display but I think you’ve heard enough about that.
Eventually, the call went out over the Mic – “bus to Cambridge leaving in 10 minutes” and it is safe to say that:
- The bus to Cambridge had definitely not left 10 minutes later
- The mad rush to the cloakroom resembled a survival of the fittest for the light blues
- We managed to get everyone back on the coach (and some extras?)
- There were definitely some items left behind
So if anyone sees 4 hockey sticks, 3 Wanderers ties, 2 pink Saturns or an iPhone please send them home, Adams Road, to the place they belong, West Of Cambridge, Wilby Sports Ground and we’ll take them hooooommmmmmeeeee.
In conclusion, after CUHC’s big day out where we won some, got robbed of some and conclusively decided that a swap > crew date, Curry King > Jamal’s and Louis Totton > Ollie Shorthose we were on the bus home safe and sound.
It was around this point that an anon Wanderer’s VC decided to do his best Captain Phillips impression and announce that “he was the (club) captain now”, but no one really noticed as Reciprocal Jêfe had got the goodnight tunes on and not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse, the stick bags were hung in the bus with care, in hopes that the Cam would soon be there.
There is still some hockey left to be played this season and some games have been organised for those that weren’t selected for last Sunday. We’re all going to watch, and we’d love it if you came too.
So after that comprehensive postviewing of last weekend, the weekend preview has the following fixtures for Saturday:
* Thanks to Colleen for his contributions (circ. 42.2%) this week. Since we basically always say the same, I didn’t bother to change/delete pronouns as would have been appropriate.