Off the back of a half-term hiatus, the beach boys returned to league action knowing the stakes were rising. Six wins on the bounce had forced us into league winning contention, and with Holcombe slipping up against Blackheath earlier in the day, top spot was within touching distance.

Training on Tuesday, however, suggested otherwise.

Attendance was… light. Excuses ranged to non-existent. Skipper PK made it abundantly clear on WhatsApp that if we want to win the expletive league, training needs to be a bigger expletive priority. The chat fell silent. Message received. Hopefully.

The Bus Nearly Wasn’t

A poll for 13 on the fun bus quickly became 10 during the week. Various traffic dramas meant we spent 20 minutes idling on PK’s driveway while Wardy fought his way down from Hawkinge like a man escaping Mordor.

Eventually, a strong squad of 14 set off, including Ben Stone stepping up from the 2s to cover for Ali Sutton. Incidentally Sutton is somehow able to lock and unlock his car remotely from Saudi Arabia. Technology, eh. Clever stuff.

DJ duties fell to Jack Timmins ahead of his 18th birthday tomorrow. His playlist? Strangely aligned with a 50-year-old divorcee hairdresser. We listened to the entirety of George Michael's epic Careless Whisper. All of it. No remix. No remorse.

On arrival, we changed in the ladies’ changing rooms and delivered a clear message: Burnt Ash go route one. Protect the middle. Step in front. Be brave. Don't lose.

To be fair, first half, we were excellent.

Calm. Controlled. Professional.

The back four of Jack Hagger, Sam Ireland, Tom Stone and Ben Stone gave Burnt Ash absolutely nothing. Scotty Minister operated in midfield as a one-man Dyson Dual Cyclone, hoovering up everything that moved. The forwards and midfield unit—Tom Jones, Will Ball, Mike Hopkins, Nick Ward, Fin Letley, Jack Timmins, Phil King and Arthur Ireland—were disciplined and purposeful.

Chances came. A post was struck. Baselines were attacked. The Burnt Ash D was under sustained pressure.

Eventually the breakthrough came in scrappy fashion. Will Ball flicked over the keeper, and Arthur Ireland obligingly “helped it along” mid-air over the line.

1–0.
And that’s how it stayed until half time. If only we'd called the result there.

The second half was chaos.

Soon after the restart, Ben Stone saw green for not retreating five metres. Fair enough.

Burnt Ash then won a penalty corner. It was thumped goalwards, catching goalkeeper Boots on the elbow between padding—an unpleasant one—and to make things worse the following melee resulted in a penalty stroke. Converted.

1–1.

The response was swift. PK, defenders dispatched, wide angle, goalkeeper apparently sightseeing somewhere other than his near post. Bankers again.

2–1.

Pivotal moment, young Fin Letley picked the pocket of the Burnt Ash centre-back, rounded the keeper then scooped a pass at PK. Surely he'd score? Nope. Wasn't able to control it and just wafted an air shot. Awkward.

Then it got gnarly.

Another Burnt Ash corner. Converted.

2–2.

Green cards followed for Jack Timmins (robust enthusiasm) and Will Ball (administrative disagreement over free-hit geography).

Soon Burnt Ash capitalised from yet another penalty corner.

3–2. Not long left. Burnt Ash in full disruptive wind-up mode, they do it well.

The game descended. Tackles flew. Dissent simmered. Decisions confused everyone equally. Folkestone stopped playing our way and instead joined the chaos. We lost our heads.

With eight minutes remaining, we earned a penalty corner of our own.

The injection wasn’t textbook, but Sam Ireland gathered brilliantly and slung it goalwards for Will Ball to get the touch.

3–3. Phew.

Burnt Ash were… displeased. Swear words. Personal dis-pleasantaries. Sticks and toys thrown out.

The closing stages were very scrappy. PK, perhaps over-enthusiastic in his desire to win it, was green-carded late on.

And that was that.

Full Time: 3–3

Messy? Yes. Very.
Opportunity missed? Possibly.
A point away and three goals scored against the league’s best defence? Not to be sniffed at.

We move up to second. A win would have taken us top. Fine margins.

Man of the Match: Ben Stone – immense on the right, composed all afternoon. Winner of the Battle of the Stones™️ today.
DotD: Jack Timmins – Happy 18th Birthday mate.

Only 8 made the return to the Burnt Ash clubhouse, where shower policy was strictly 1-in-1-out, but the chicken pie was excellent. A couple of turbo shandies for the birthday boy and spirits were restored, and the news that we'd moved up to second in the table helped too. Level on points with Canterbury at the top, but 10 goals adrift.

Home next week against Old Williamsonians, before what could be a top-of-the-table clash away at Canterbury on 7th March.

Still very much in the hunt.