5s "experiment" new formation

Prologue:
As I left home for Sonning HQ at 9.30am to meet the mighty 5s, I dreamt of scoring three or four goals, launching precise aerial attacks, tackling the best player and accepting the prestigious award of Man of the Match. This dream ended only too soon with the realisation that I’d just said good bye to my lift and walked into an empty Sonning club house.... What was wrong? I checked the email again.... panic penetrated. I was meant to be at Maidenhead for 9.30am!!! Jeepers. A speedy call to the lady in my life and a fun (complete silent treatment) race to Maidenhead meant that I had arrived ten minutes after the game had started. 

The main story:
11 men with no pads on the pitch meant only one thing, we didn’t have a keeper. Good start. With the mighty Sonning spirit, we pursued the win. Charging down every attempt at our goal, our defensive wall stood solid. Sonning's countering technique was beautiful with two or three perfect passes being strung together leading to blisteringly powerful shots at Maidenhead's keeper. On the side line I heard one women scream, "That nearly took his head off".

Then the rain came and it came hard, all over both teams. Unfortunately, the angle of the rain affected Sonning more than Maidenhead forcing its way into the eyes of our players. Maidenhead took this and slyly slipped passed Sonning's defensive, like snakes, and pushed, not hit the ball into Sonning's goal. Half time: 2-0

Max needed something great, something phenomenal, something powerful.

He steps up: And if this is your team, why does it lose?

Sonning player: We didn't come here to lose to them! Maidenhead are just too many!

Max Phippard: Sons of Berkshire! I am Max Phippard.

Sonning player: Max Phippard is seven feet tall!

Max Phippard: Yes, I've heard. Scores goals by the hundreds. And if HE were here, he'd consume Maidenhead with fireballs from his eyes, and bolts of lightning from his arse.
[Sonning players laughs]

Max Phippard: I *am* Max Phippard! And I see a whole team of my countrymen, here in defiance of tyranny. You've come to play as great players... and great players you are. What will you do with that brilliance? Will you play?

Sonning player: Play? Against them? No! We will give up. And we will cower.

Max Phippard: Aye, play and you may lose. Give in, and you'll play again... at least a while. And lying in your beds, many years from now, would you be willing' to trade ALL the games, from this day to that, for one chance, just one chance, to come back here and tell our opponents that they may take this game, but they'll never take... OUR FREEDOM!
[Sonning players cheered]

The whistle went and the second half commenced. With enlightened souls and a thirst for victory, Grant Strutley powered through Maidenhead’s midfield heading for goal. Their defence solidified but Grant was too powerful for them. Smashing through them like Miley Cyrus in her video ‘Wrecking Ball’, Grant passed the defenders and then it happened. Time slowed. Silence. Pin drop on the astro turf. Grant reaches the top of the D. The goalie sets. Grant fires. The ball screams in. Top right! Time catches up. They had done it. 2-1. Sonning were on the comeback.

The battle continued and hard both teams fought. Maidenhead must have secretly cheated and brought a ‘ringer’ on because they somehow scored another. 3-1. Sonning heads were down for a moment but then in a moment of euphoria, an epiphany some would say, Sonning remembered why they were there. Clearly the objective is to win but they were also there to enjoy themselves and demonstrate why Sonning Hockey Club is the best team in the world. That they did.

Finale:
The final whistle was blown and yes, Sonning lost but the moral victory was theirs. They left the pitch the better team. They only conceded three goals with no keeper. That is a victory in itself. They strung together better passes, had better structure, were clearly a happier side.

Maidenhead may have won that match but Sonning won the day.

By James Bridges