6am it sounded and at that exact moment, an all-too-familiar feeling hit. Except this time it was a Saturday. Game day. Hungover, with another big day and night ahead. Uh oh.

Friday had seen many of us attend Ali’s funeral, and it was only right we gave him a proper send-off. A lovely service for a lovely man, followed by a few hundred piling into Three Hills afterwards to celebrate him.

The game itself was, unfortunately (or fortunately depending on your hungover perspective), a bit of a dead rubber. Folkestone’s beach boys sat comfortably in 3rd, Sevenoaks down in 7th. Nothing riding on it, yet we still wanted to finish properly. End on a high and keep the gap to Canterbury and Holcombe as tight as possible. It was so close in the end.

The Optimists lined up without Sam Ireland, suspended after his impressive yellow card collection against Holcombe. Joel Davison was sidelined through injury courtesy of his little brother, and Will Bygrave was working. On the plus side, Nick “Wardy” Ward was back. Cheat code activated.

Anyway, hockey.

We were, unsurprisingly, very lethargic for the first 10–15 minutes. The only thing functioning properly was the hangover. Even Mr Reliable, Scott “8km a half” Minister, was missing tackles left, right and centre. Let’s hope it was the tequila rose and not turning 40 during the week. Happy birthday, Green Ranger.

Sevenoaks scored. We were napping.

1–0 down.

Familiar. No panic. It’s kind of our thing.

We gradually grew into the game. Confidence building. Pressure mounting. A string of penalty corners.

Then the breakthrough.

A straight strike, the keeper parried. Unfortunately for him, straight to Lorcan Doyle.

No hesitation. Calm. Controlled. Clinical. Straight through the keeper’s legs. Meg-nuts.

1–1.

From there, the Ops took control. The back four of Jack Hagger, Ali Sutton, Tom Stone and Tom Nicholls settled in nicely. Scotty’s mind-muscle connection began to return.

But still, something wasn’t quite clicking. Too many speculative thumps from poor angles. The young lads up top were getting into great areas along the baseline, but the final ball felt rushed and too direct. Promising positions came and went.

1–1 at half time.

By now, the hangovers had mostly cleared.

The weather was glorious. Blue skies. Crisp. Slightly nippy.

Then it genuinely started snowing.

Snow falling in bright sunshine, with hardly a cloud in the sky. No logical explanation. Just one of those days.

Second half we were at it.

Ball speed up. Tackles sharper. Passing crisp, like the flakes of snow.

Five minutes in, Folkestone took the lead for the first time.

A lovely flowing move involving Fin Letley, Will Ball and Arthur Ireland, finished off by Arthur.

2–1.

Naturally we let them back into it.

Penalty corner, I think.

2–2.

But this time, no wobble.

The Optimists were buoyant now. Energy up. Crowd gathering. Control re-established.

Jack Timmins.

Outstanding all game. Sharper, livelier, faster. This time, clinical.

3–2.

And that’s how it finished, despite several other chances including hitting the post and a few more penalty corners.

A 3–2 win to round off the season. Quite the season it has been too.

A quick mention to the umpires, James and Charlie, who both stepped in at very late notice. Much appreciated, and they kept the game flowing in good spirits.

Post-game, a few well-earned beers in the sun. Then the evening entertainment. The end-of-season social, combined with Scotty and PK’s 40th birthday celebrations. Good times were had by all.

A fitting end to a season that saw us come oh so close to being promoted for a third season in a row. Alas, that champagne is on ice for next year.

Boys, you've all done brilliantly this season, well done. 5-months and we go again.

Allez.