These two teams, the absolute best that Cambridge South could muster*, first met on the 18th November.

Since that time, there have been a few ups and downs but we now find ourselves in late March, clutching to the season's death throes with the hunger of a young lover and the revolt of someone clutching a dead thing.

One of the recent freak weather phenomenons that probably means our children are going to have to live on Mars had meant the original fixture was postponed and so it was that the M2s lined up against the M3s on a Tuesday evening, buoyed by a bumper crowd that may have numbered even twenty.

It was initially a tactical affair, with Tom Anns' tactical fouls being balanced out by Big Tobes' tactical chunders. The powerful running of Matt Kenzie up front for the 2s made an increasing difference and, realising this, the rest of the team simply removed the bridle and clung on to his vital ginger locks. The pace of our attacks may not quite have been breathtaking but it was certainly mildly surprising. Max Holgate's grandmother on the sidelines just about managed to keep up with the run of play.**

We thrust a couple of blunt rapiers toward the M3s' D. 'Huzzah!', cried James Menzies, giddy on spinny things and the pluperfect tense, before adjusting his socks and allowing Neil Sneade to walk off with the ball.

Shortly after though, Menzies did prove Johnny on the spot, muscling Edgey out of the way to bundle in from close range after good work from Douglas and Kenzo.

Better was yet to come. The award of a short corner allowed me to rumble forward for a cheeky injection. I didn't even bother to join the brains trust at the top of the circle, as of course we'd slip it to the right post. You can imagine my surprise when Jon Mann did something unexpected (and I've checked with his wife, Kathi, and it is the first time this is known to have happened) and sent the ball in my direction. Cue mass panic, mainly in my neural functions. Fortunately a defender rushed out and neatly deflected the ball past Saint Gower into the top left corner. That'll be my one for the season then. Tick.

You know what happens next. A comfortable two-nil lead and it should be routine from here…

The 3rds went on to have a super spell of play, looking threatening every time they attacked, showing quality on the ball and plenty of movement. Within this period, Chris Graveling went down with what looked to be a recurrence of a serious knee injury. Chris had only recently returned to hockey and it had been fantastic to have his grizzled enthusiasm in the ranks for a few games. The team sends its best wishes.

Ash D pegged one back, Dan LoyBoy hit a post, perhaps over-balancing at the last moment to adjust his terrible headband, and Darren was forced into a fine save. Half time was welcome when it came.

Whilst Paul V was busy making several sage points, Menzies was whipping me into a frenzies. 'We need to get more physical. You need to get in their faces. Set an example.' I was pumped and hared off after a 3s midfield player that had taken my fancy. The rosé mist had descended. Twice, thrice I fouled him grievously. Eventually he took umbrage and we squared up.

'DO YOU WANT A PIECE OF ME?', was Ollie Kenzie's spirited opener.

'NO!', I shrieked back. 'I THOUGHT YOU WERE LUKA MODRIC.'

Suitably embarrassed, we shook hands and the game continued.

The next score was going to be crucial and it was my brave lads that got it. It took the pragmatism of Ali E to make the difference, blunting it quietly on to James to brush in. James quite rightly had a couple of later 'goals' chalked off for dangerously bouncing a ball on the end of his stick and adroitly deflecting home another uncontrolled head-height effort.

We live in a consumerist society (or, in the case of Tom Anns, a consumptive society). Nowhere is this more obviously displayed than the M2s' consumption of right backs. This season alone, we have been through three iterations:

The MK1 ('the Edge') - Famed for its long battery life;

The MK2 ('the Barn') - Had some whizzy features but ultimately proved too heavy to carry around; and

The MK3 ('the Asbo') - Looks the slickest but has the unfortunate habit of crashing when you least expect it, and occasionally self-combusting.

It was the MK3 that took the field today and he duly performed with anticipated aplomb, shining a light on our right wing, showing me the way to go home and issuing a timely reminder for my Mother's birthday (April the 8th). Thankfully I had installed the most recent update - 'reverse stick whacky thing' - which made an appearance with fifteen minutes or so to spare and put the game to bed. It was left for NBM to talk us though the closing moments before Kev could give it the big blow and both teams retired to The Green Man for a few light ales.

Let's do it all again next season!

*Other than the 1st XI.

**There is some poetic licence here, as his grandparents actually watched last week's game, but fair play to his mum for watching this game on a very cold Tuesday evening and even complimenting us on our performance at the end.