It was that time of year again.

The two teams lined up against each other. Some were casting nervous glances at their opponents. Others puffed their chest out and stared up at the sky. There was tension in the air.

Both sides had gone for a similar formation; a forlorn hope at the front, an unknown quantity at the rear, and a heavy duty engine room in between.

And so it was that at approximately 8pm, in the Devonshire Arms, the M2s boat race commenced.

It is hard to say who was the winner of Team Catley/Jimmy/NBM/Nik/Asbo/Blair vs Team Manny/Anns/Walsh/Chalky/Menz/Coops, but it is safe to say that the clear loser was Adam Catley’s knitwear. He might have got away with it, if it wasn’t for the large puddle at his feet (and I don’t mean Matt Puddlefoot).

Earlier in the day, we had taken on the Cambridge South 3^rd X1, in a well-mannered Division 4NW encounter.

After two titanic meetings of the teams last year, we invited umpire Jan into the dressing rooms before the game in the interests of intra-club fairness. Cue a team-talk that majored heavily on respect for the laws and spirit of the game. Tom Anns looked more non-plussed than usual. His is a brow that takes some furrowing, but it got there in the end.

The first half saw attacks from both teams, with Menzies stroking us into an early lead before Dookun and Loy led a pacey counter-thrust. The stand-out moment came from Jimmy Wood, who picked up possession in relatively innocuous centre-field and then into full Lomu mode. Bullocking past the 3s mids, he collected speed, like some sort of crazed steam-punk runaway train. Gaskets were blown, flames flared from his cavernous nostrils, Sneades melted in his coal-ly wake. The Long Road pitch was strewn with shattered memories of defenders. It was like a scene from The Revenant. As the credits rolled, Jimmy applied the killing blow, thwacking home with terrifying power in a manner akin to a shaven-headed Thor. Whereupon Nik Patel promptly nicked the goal on the line, proving that the hockey gods never forget.*

Actually, there were two stand-out moments, the other being Jason James (who was umpiring) managing to injure his foot whilst volleying the ball to safety and simultaneously (and correctly) awarding a short corner for dangerous play.

The second half seemed to pass quite quickly, in a strange sort of half-light in which neither defence felt under pressure, but there wasn’t really a sense of any midfield battle either. I guess the ball must have been around somewhere, but I don’t really recall what anyone was doing with it. At one point, we briefly threatened to score a goal, but from the resultant penalty stroke Asbo Dom tried to out-think George in goal and failed – an alarming failing of the mind which will surely stay with him forever.

* - Ed’s note: this was karma for Jimmy stealing Matt Puddefoot’s goal on the line last week.