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Match report

Sat, 6th Oct 2018 12:30
Battersea Park
Spencer Women's 3
3-1
London Edwardians Ladies 2
  • Jen
  • Daria
  • Freya
 
 
This year has seen a change to the Mighty3s’ match report formats, no longer is our trusty scribe on hand every other week to provide an eloquent, hilarious, equally ridiculous, but heartfelt story (who can forget the yellow Sony Walkman!!!). Instead readers are left with a motley crew, apprentices if you will or the nominated DoD for the week, attempting to draft something that will attempt to provide at least half the entertainment those previous match reports provided.

So this week’s match report falls to me. How?! Why?! I am usually such a cautious person. I wait at the traffic lights for the green man, unless I am in a hurry. I have a boogie on the side of the dance floor to avoid the mêlée of people being thrown around, shoes flying, sweaty arm pits, and most likely an invasion of my personal space. I drink out of jars - I take the ‘Do Not Use If Safety Button Can Be Pushed Down’ bobbly bit very seriously. And most importantly I like being on the end of the line when we are warming up - I get maximum space and unless I attempt a failed cartwheel handstand round-off, no-one ever notices if I have missed the odd lunge or squat.

So how you may ask did such a cautious person come away with such an accolade?!

From the outset I claim the following:
• There are two sides to every story;
• It wasn’t me; and
• I’d like to rely on B*witched’s infamous argument that I should blame it on the weatherman.

So just as Maleficent, Elphaba, and the Other Boleyn Girl presented their version of events, here are mine.

It all started when I decided watching Dr Strange at midnight was a good idea. It clearly gave me a feeling that I could warp time and fly through multi-dimensions. Therefore, in hindsight I should have seen this coming, I should have followed a different timeline. Fast forward to me leaving for the game and I felt the first spots of rain. Then there was a missed train by a minute, followed by a delayed train culminating in a 10-minute wait. And by the time I arrived at Battersea Park station the rain was on the ascension. All was not lost though as I still beat Claire. Anyway, in true Dr Strange style we warp forward to the warm-up.

We all know what Battersea Park is like. It is BUSY! And with the now pouring rain, there were wet dogs, wet trees and probably wet squirrels though I didn’t see any. As the warm up proceeded I lined myself up on the end as per usual. A man cycled past me unscathed on what was a path of little stones as the rain went on (on and on again). Following suite was a small child on a red bike who looked very unstable. As I went to lunge, it is as if an alternative dimension opened up and he came crashing to the ground. He chased down the man who had passed me earlier shouting ‘Daddy,’ as his little red bike was left in front of me, wheel spinning and everything. I tried to be helpful by wheeling it towards the pair. If that wasn’t enough, the father was now attempting to balance a toddler he had on the back of his own bike and the crying child. I approached quietly as the rain went on (on and on again) and the universe shifted with the father’s bike. Everything seemed to slow down but knowing I couldn’t rely on the time stone I let go of the little red bike and did my best to grab the seat to help stabilise the father’s bike and falling toddler. The small child continued to cry, and bawl and the father looked agitated as the rain went on (on and on again). In instances like that, I believe all you can do is lean the little red bike against the bollard and run off.

As for the game - there were no red bikes, balancing toddlers or tears although the rain did continue to go on (on and on again). Van Der Sleeman arrived with the Mighty3s top supporters ready to provide half-time sweets to run the side-line. The first half saw a good team performance with the Mighty3s going 3-0 up with goals from Jen, Daria and a cracking solo-effort from MoM Freya beating a few players and rounding the goalie before slotting in before half-time (very Dr Strange-esque). The second half saw the rain go on (on and on again); Nat’s hands go blue; Tegan running out to kick the ball to get some blood moving; Chrissy turning up with 20 minutes to go; our top cheerleaders preparing sweets for the post-match analysis; us conceding a late goal; and thankfully the final whistle going to end the torrential nightmare and leaving a score of 3-1.

So, there you have it, I may not have had my wings sawn off or sang ‘Gravity’ from the top of a staircase, or seen my sister beheaded but that’s my side of Saturday’s events. It weren’t me whodunit! It was the weatherman. And if wheeling a small red bike wins you DoD then who knows what the world is coming to!

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