With most eyes in the club elsewhere this Saturday, twelve heroes from the M2s set out at dawn’s crack for the Lincolnshire coastline. The twelve being eleven of South’s finest hockey players and Matt Puddlefoot, who had gamely volunteered to drive the two hundred mile round trip only for the epic bantz. Poor Puddlefoot.

Knowing that this sort of trip takes substantial logistical planning, Dom had spent his Friday evening spamming his co-travellers with helpful tips on what to pack. He scheduled a detailed itinerary for the following morning, with individual collection times for Mathews, Anns and I. It seemed a particularly early start, but by 10.30 this was all starting to make sense. You see, Dom had planned our journey via a McDonald's. Now, I like a Big Mac as much as the next man but I’m not sure why he aimed for the McDonald's in Wisbech.

With a one hundred mile journey having now become a one hundred and thirty mile journey and one thousand calories firmly parked in the midriff, we arrived at the seaside in lively spirits. The surroundings were as spectacular as I had remembered. Even with the diversion, there was still some time to kill before the others arrived. I'd checked out the best things to do in Skegness in advance, for just this sort of scenario. Sadly, Tom was barred from Captain Kids Adventure Play, James had already been to the Northcote Heavy Horse Centre last weekend and Dom didn't fancy the Gibraltar Point National Nature Reserve. Sitting in the changing rooms and taking it in turns for a chance with the one toilet it was then.

Once the others had arrived, it fell to Anns, the thinking man’s public speaker, to take charge of the pre-match sabre-rattling. ‘We can beat this lot easily lads, but it isn’t going to be easy, alright?’ Inspiring stuff.

Days later, the game itself began. Midfield dominance was soon established, with Whittaker proving a slippery tip at the head of Manny’s precision balls. Up top, Nelson and Mathews were enjoying the freedom of Skegness, charging hither and thither as the seagulls cawed some encouragement in the background. Alford retreated. The tide was going out.

After a couple of near misses, some end-product was called for. It fell to Nelson to provide the unexpected touch of class, rolling a cute pass back to an onrushing Mann to carefully slot home. Quickly afterwards, Max Holgate neatly turned in the circle to slide in our second before a slightly shanked thumper from Jon found its way to the net past a home keeper who was perhaps unsighted.

The biggest controversy came at half time, when some ‘hot’ Haribos were produced. No-one needs those. Bring back the Double Bears.

Of course the chat at the break was to keep the hammer down and of course we didn’t. The second period was largely a non-event, save for a slight blunder at the back (not even my fault this time) that led to an Alford goal. After that, and as our collective energy levels dipped (knew we should have gone ‘Large’ with the chips), there was also time for George to make a late save that stopped things from getting a bit nervy.

With another three points in the bag, we headed off for some sustenance. A fishcake and chips might not have been what the Doctor would have ordered after the mid-morning snack that we’d already consumed, but it did just fine for us. There was barely any room for the four-pack and large bag of Happy Shopper cheese puffs on the way home but we managed, making sure to liberally smear said puffs all over the back of Nelson’s car in revenge for the Wisbech shenanigans.