Mini Event Report
We had a great turnout at Genval despite public transport problems. A fun time was had by all.
The weather started quite foggy but turned to sun. Thanks to the Genval Croquet Club for their help setting up and especially in the removal of the copious “presents” left by the happy ducks and geese. Despite the drought and the best efforts of the waterfowl, the croquet lawn was in fantastic shape.
There was huge enthusiasm and sportsmanship from our Croquet Team led by our indefatigable Captain of Croquet, Alastair Paice. It meant that our spirits were never lessened despite the tricky evil tactics from “the other place” which allowed them to sneak a victory over our noble sportsmen and women.
Thus, Cambridge came second: 50 to 58. We handed over the shiny new “Sorgo-Camu Croquet Cup”. Named after the two founders of our annual tournament Poznan Sorgo and Alain Camu from Oxford.
The Laguna hosted us for a sunny lunch where we debriefed and contemplated next year’s certain victory.
Thanks to everyone for coming. For those so enthused by the match. Claire, the President of the Genval Croquet Club invites Camsoc members for three free days of play and they may join the Croquet Club at €150 per annum if they wish.
A summary of the day, by Alastair Paice: With apologies to William Shakespeare
Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
Or close the wall up with our CamSoc team.
In practice there's nothing that so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility:
But when the match whistle blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the Cambridge lion,
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage;
Then lend the eye a fierce aspect;
Let’s strike our balls through the hoops,
Like the brass cannon; let the blow o'erwhelm them,
Furrow your brows and concentrate,
Forget the rules and make a strategic plan,
And look out towards the sacred Genval lake.
Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,
Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit
To his full height. On, on, you noblest CamSoc team
Whose blood is drawn from our fathers veins !
Fathers that, like so many Alexanders,
From misty morning to a draw have fought,
And sheathed their mallets when the game was up.
Dishonour not your mothers; now attest
That those whom you call'd fathers did forget you.
Be now men and women of better blood,
And teach them how to win again. And you, good players,
Whose limbs were made in Cambridge, show us here
With feet again on our pastures green; let us swear
That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not;
For there is none of you so strong and wily,
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot:
Follow your spirit, and upon this charge
Cry 'God for Steve, Cambridge, and Saint John !'
