Dear Diary,

Today was a day of sweat, speed, and deeply unfortunate manifestations.

It all started with Avi, who arrived 15 minutes before pushback, exuding an effortless coolness in her sunnies, as if she had just stepped off a yacht rather than preparing for battle. She casually opted out of most of the warm-up before finally deciding to grace us with her participation—only to realise moments before the match that she had forgotten her shin pads. A bold strategy. One that immediately secured her Lemon of the Match before a ball had even been hit.

However, the real crime was committed pre-match when Avi—clearly feeling the cosmic forces at play—declared with absolute conviction:
“It’s a beautiful day to lose.”

And, dear diary, we must acknowledge that she manifested a little too hard.

First Half: The Youthful Onslaught

From the first whistle, Cambridge Uni came at us with the speed and agility of freshly unchained racehorses, zipping around like they were auditioning for a sports drink commercial. Our defensive trio (Rosie, Julie, and Faye) fought valiantly, but it turns out that three humans versus a small army of university students with an endless energy supply is not a fair equation. They managed to break through and score two goals despite our best efforts.

We did have our own moments of hope, with two breaks into their D that got our hearts racing, but alas, no goals. Not for lack of effort—just for lack of time, space, and perhaps an interdimensional portal to slow Cambridge Uni down.

Second Half: Now Battling the Sun, Too

With no subs and the sun deciding to become our biggest opponent, we took to the second half with a new strategy: sheer determination and mild heatstroke.

We settled into a more composed and technical game, finding better structure and pushing forward. Our inners (Bex & Becky D), screens (Ruth & El), and forwards (Avi, Claudia, and Naomi) fought tooth and nail for a breakthrough. But despite our heroic efforts, Cambridge Uni sprinted through us like they were in the 100m Olympic finals and secured two more goals. 4-0. Brutal.

Final Whistle: The Moral Victory

No goals for us, but plenty of spirit, teamwork, and questionable pre-game affirmations. Avi, in addition to forgetting shin pads, has now been blamed for cursing the team. We will be having words.

But despite the scoreline, we fought hard, we played with heart, and most importantly, we suffered together. And that, dear diary, is what really matters.

Until next time,
Avi – whom manifested her own downfall