Roses men’s hockey: York 1-1 Lancaster

In stark contrast to the Friday Indoor fixture, where York thumped Lancaster 8-2, the Men’s 1st XI outdoor game was a largely tepid affair.

Only in the last fifteen minutes, after Lancaster had snuck ahead, was the match finally propelled into melodrama.

Until that point, chances were few and far between. Leo Watton nearly scored after seizing on a glorious Simon Lowen aerial, but saw his shot fizz narrowly wide, whilst James Branton’s deflection was rejected by a quite magnificent piece of goalkeeping. This aside, the hockey was cautious, constrained, and – truthfully – a little dull.

From the sidelines, the Lancaster faithful did their utmost to create atmosphere whilst simultaneously demonstrating exactly why their university is yet to be accepted into the Russell Group. Their best bit of “banter” consisted of screaming, “Hey, number 23, you’re my favourite.” (The number was, admittedly, variable, allowing for infinite variations.)

In response, York – always keen to occupy the moral highground – dangled Galaxy bars in front of Lancaster’s most rotund player, as if acting out some cruel distortion of Hansel and Gretel.

The deadlock was finally – and thankfully, for the sake of journalism – broken when Lancaster converted their fifth short-corner, their captain (an all-round nice chap, it should be noted) sending a drag-flick flying past Sam Harriman. Against the run of play, Lancaster had nipped into the lead.

From there, things kicked off. York’s calm sense of inevitable victory gave way to raging desperation, and the game became furiously frantic as a result. The roar from the Red Rose swelled as their fans gulped hungrily at the scent of victory. (Their chat however, remained distinctly below par.)

From here, I confess, it is rather a blur, sort of like when a horse bolts. But suddenly – a minute from time – we found ourselves with a short corner.

As we huddled at the top of the D, we agonised over which routine to choose. Throughout the game, Lancaster’s goalkeeper had been quite marvellous between the sticks, swatting away perfectly executed corners much to our collective dismay. We were fast running out of ideas.

Then Laurie Torrington strolled into the group. Quietly – as is his way – but with a firm and cool confidence, he simply said, “It’s got to be a straight flick. I don’t care who, me or Leo, but let’s do a straight flick.”

The captain asked if he was sure. He said he was.

Time was practically out, this was it; a Hail-Mary. We scored now or we walked off in bitter and ill-deserved defeat.

The crowd swayed in an inebriated unity as Hugo lined up the injection. A hush fell, and then Hugo released…

…Bang. Top corner. Keeper beaten. Game saved.

York fans streamed onto the pitch, mobbing Torrington and spraying woeful French lager onto the players. The game hadn’t officially ended, but it didn’t matter, the result was settled.

A match that looked destined for mediocrity was turned on its head, concluding with the unbounded excitement that only sport can provide and offering a fitting finale to round off UYHC’s Roses weekend.