After back-to-back league defeats — the first time in over three years the Ops had suffered such indignity, the boys arrived determined to steady the ship. Despite the wobble, Folkestone still sat in the chasing pack at the top end of Invicta 2. Holcombe, officially bottom with 5 points from 9 games, were only there thanks to a flurry of GMS admin crimes. They can play. They came to test us. And they did.

The Ops actually played some lovely stuff early doors, but Holcombe's half-court was like watching someone park a bus, inside a lorry, inside a shipping container. Folkestone probed, poked, passed, recycled, stretched… but couldn’t break them.

Without skipper Phil King, Scott “8km a half” Minister took the armband and proceeded to personally inspect every square centimetre of the Three Hills surface. Engine. All action. Slide tackles. Oof.

At the back, the returning Neil Bristow, fresh from long-term injury exile, slotted in next to Sam Ireland, with Tom Stone, Jack Hagger and Ali Sutton completing a defensive unit that made Holcombe look about as threatening as that post match vegetable lasagne. The few chances Holcombe had were lapped up by Chris Stephens in goal. Some say they heard the man purring.

Then, moments before half-time. Penalty corner. Goal. 1–0 down. Half time whistle. Perfect. At least we didn't concede immediately after a restart this week.

Whatever was said at half time worked. The Beach Boys came out flying.

The forward line of Harry Rowe, Fin Letley, Ben Allon and Arthur Ireland stretched the play beautifully — high, wide, baseline. The pitch suddenly felt a lot bigger. This gave Bristow and Minister acres to step through and start firing passes into dangerous areas.

The inside trio of Tom Jones, Nick Ward, and Tom Nicholls suddenly looked like they were everywhere all at once. The half backs Hagger and Stone pushed up the lines, and even into the attacking D in moments. Bind moggling.

Holcombe were on the ropes.

1–1: A penalty corner rebound fell to Nick Ward, who swept home the second strike with the composure of a man who has absolutely no interest in losing three games in a row.

2–1: Ten minutes later, late call-up Arthur Ireland, buried from close range after fantastic pressure in the D. First goal for the 3s. Lovely stuff, and in front of the family too.

And then it became time for Operation S-house.
Keep the ball. Don’t attack. Drag Holcombe out of their beloved half-court cave. Make them chase the game.

They did.

They stepped up and out.

And instantly regretted it.

3–1: Within minutes, young Fin Letley, in only his second game at the level, pounced after some slick build-up from the forward line. A sublime finish, celebrated wildly by his dad Stu on the sideline, who may or may not have emotionally embraced those around him. The Three Hills crowd loved it.

Three goals. Three scorers, two of them aged just 14. Scoring against several former national league players in the Holcombe setup. Incredible stuff.

Final score: 3–1. Momentum restored. Spirits lifted. The ship steadied.

Next Week the fun bus rolls to Sevenoaks. Onwards we march.
Up the Blues. ??