When it comes to actually taking part in sport, I’ve always maintained an element of caution. Though football and tennis have never been my calling, they are both my comfort and threshold of sporting ambition, beyond which I must not pass.
Freshers’ Week, however, injects us all with this irrational need to try new things, even though enjoyment of said activities is recognised as nothing but impossible. Despite my inability in any sport involving some sort of stick, I dragged myself to a Lacrosse taster session, and previous struggles with water sports were duly punished by nearly drowning whilst scuba diving (in the shallow end of a swimming pool).
But these experiences simply could not stop my crazed yearning for diversity and pathetic desperation to make friends (why do you think I’ve joined this bloody newspaper?). Rather than totally avoiding sports involving sticks or water, therefore, my addiction led me to one which happened to employ both at the same time.
This presumed anarchic, satanic abomination of a sport was called underwater hockey, or Octopush, and my first ten minutes taking part in it were horrendous. On first glance, it was to me the dysfunctional three-way lovechild of the London Aquarium, Baywatch, and the Battle of Agincourt. With bodies flying everywhere, bulldozing one another in the quest to whack a small black puck into goals on each side of the pool, Octopush was sporting pandemonium.
The sport is played by two teams of six with each trying to manoeuvre the puck across the bottom of a swimming pool into goals not much bigger than the space I get in this column. Players are equipped with snorkelling equipment, fins, and a stick of maximum 300mm in length. Given that I was unable to put my mask on in a way which prevented water from entering through inconsistencies in my cheekbones, I was never going to stand a chance.
But my spectacular failure at Octopush did not coat my gradual appreciation of how much skill is required to thrive at it. The sport requires a great deal of speed, agility, aggression, and vision, all of which must be used whilst underwater and with the slight hindrance of having to go up for air every once in a while. Verbal communication is also impossible, so a team must rely on a great deal of preparation before and tactical astuteness during a game.
Furthermore, I’m sure most of you don’t have a passionate fear of sticks and water sports, so don’t let the mental image of David Hasselhoff wearing a snorkelling mask put you off. Now really is a great time to join the Club. The A and B teams finished 8th and 12th respectively in the Student Nationals back in March, and the York team obliterated Lancaster 12-0 at this year’s Roses. Octopush is a sport going places at the University.
By the time this goes to print, most of you will have finished exams, and so now is an opportunity to get involved in all sorts of wonderful activities this place provides us. Though I personally struggle to see the appeal, I suspect that swimming and hitting things with a stick are ideal methods of coping with post-exam trauma for a lot of people. If you’re one of them, perhaps you should try something a bit “whacky” which really “floats” your boat (…no?).
Octopush sessions take place on Tuesdays, Saturdays and Sundays.