Pumas 1 - 5 Teddington 5s (H)

Sara Walker was clearly on babysitting duty this week, as the Teddington veteran arrived with every child the club could muster. No judgement here: childcare costs are through the roof, and we in the Pumas are big believers in bringing the kids along for funsies. We just usually leave them on the sideline.

In our campaign so far we’ve quickly discovered the ups and downs of playing against colt teams. On the one hand, children are very pleasant on the pitch, and it usually makes for an incredibly good-humoured game. On the other, it means we'll almost certainly lose (5–1 today, for those keeping score), and there is guaranteed to be a cluster of dads on the sideline, living vicariously and very vocally through their mortified progeny. One, having reached the limit of his tactical vocabulary, simply yelled "Silly old ladies!" at us. Harsh, we thought. "Well, he's not wrong," Dawn pointed out. Onto the highlights!

If you haven’t got the memo by now, Silly Old Puma number one is Kerrie (one of these days, friend, I'll write a nice match report about you. Today is not that day). Little did most of you know, this game was nothing more than a warm-up for this one. For on Sunday, she would be standing shoulder to shoulder with an Olympian. A team made up mostly of the Surbiton 4s (with an athlete thrown in who has reached the very pinnacle of this glorious game), didn't much fancy facing the British Army O35s unarmed. And who do you call when you need an absolute weapon a really big gun? Kerrie Gordon. Every time. (Kisses two fingers, raises them to the heavens.) And so it was that this magnificently unorthodox player was drafted in to bolster the ranks, just in case Giselle let a few slip through. Sometimes you just need alternative ways and means.

We're all familiar with Kerrie's alternative means by now, and they were on full display today as she hoofed every ball that came anywhere near her. Most of us have the decency to make it look like an accident. Not Kerrie. Kerrie winds the whole leg back, takes aim and lets fly, like she's been called up to take a penalty at Wembley. The sheer audacity of it is almost admirable. In her own words: “my stick only gets in the way”. Fortunately she does benefit enormously from always looking a mixture of surprised and confused, which makes it very hard for an umpire to believe any of it was deliberate. Delightful work!   

Speaking of delightful, Cleo is back. Fresh off the back end of the volleyball season, it took her a little while to remember which side of the stick we use in this sport. Kat, our resident expert on the darker arts, maintains that you can usually get away with the odd ‘skill’ on the back of the stick - you just can't dribble with it. Luckily for Cleo, that seemed to be Wendy's view as well. A generous umpire is a wonderful thing. Playing with both sides of her stick isn’t this maverick’s only skill though: she tackles, intercepts and runs for days, never giving the opposition an inch. Ambidextrous, relentless and slightly outside the rules: she's a Puma through and through. Very glad to have you back, friend, and some deserved POM noms to show for your first outing!

Joining Cleo in midfield was the formidable duo of Surge and Nao. It's rare to get these two superstars on a pitch together, but my goodness, when we do, doesn't the magic happen. Surge, a personal trainer by day, treats every match as a chance to show the rest of us what fitness actually looks like, and frankly, it's a little demoralising. A master of one-handed hockey with an impressive wingspan, she can cover roughly a third of the pitch in a single stretch, and Teddington's youngsters were made to look positively tiny every time she reached out like Inspector Gadget and plucked the ball from under their noses. She makes hockey look effortless, while steadfastly maintaining she hasn’t a clue what she’s doing. The POM noms suggest otherwise! Alongside her, Nao was dogged and determined as ever, winning the ball back and then spreading it around the pitch beautifully. It led to some lovely link-up play with the forwards, and for the first time this season, you could really see the connection between midfield and attack beginning to click. The scoreline didn't show it, but something is building here. Watch this space, ladies!

Kat also began the morning in midfield, and was her usual excellent self. Then, in an act of great personal sacrifice, she dropped back into defence at half time so that Kerrie could save her feet for Sunday. Defence is not Kat's favourite place to be but sadly for her I blooming love her there, and we could all see why today. Teddington had clearly decided that the baseline was their golden ticket to goal, and every few minutes another small, determined child would set off down it at full pelt. And every few minutes, there was Kat, already waiting, stick down, path blocked, door very firmly shut. It became something of a ritual. They kept trying. She kept stopping them. Nobody learned anything, except perhaps that Kat doesn't move. Midfield or defence, she was steel throughout, with POM nominations rolling in accordingly.

Keeping with the defence, after last week's heroic but ultimately fruitless adventures up front, Katie N was pleased to be back where she belongs, even moving her flight so she could be there. Stunning dedication to the cause, my friend, I salute you! And aren't we glad she did? On 16s, she fired the ball up the pitch like a cannon, scattering children left and right - there were no direct hits this week, I'm pleased to report, so maybe word is getting round about the Pumas on mumsnet. She also delivered the sleight of hand of the season. Having committed an absolutely outrageous back stick, and clearly sensing that the umpire's whistle was imminent, she did the only sensible thing and launched the ball skywards. Every head on the pitch turned to follow it. "AERIAL!" cried the sideline in unison, as is customary at this level whenever a ball rises above shin height. A few spectators ducked. The umpires, apparently so astonished by this sudden display of skill and ambition, quite forgot what they'd just seen and waved play on. Stunning ingenuity - misdirection of the highest order! Sat comfortably on the bench, Kerrie wiped away a proud tear. We love you, Katie. Never change.

Commander-in-Chief of the defence today was our smiling assassin, Phil, who was her usual immovable self, picking off tackles and sending the ball back up the pitch, mercifully aimed at empty space this week rather than anyone's backside. The night before the game, she and I had a little tête-à-tête about marking, and the message clearly landed. This old rogue (certainly “Silly Puma” number 2) was a woman transformed, getting tight on her players and giving them absolutely nothing in the D. In fairness, some of the credit may belong to her new long skort, which appears to restrict her knees just enough to stop her wandering off. Whatever the reason, the point stands: she can do it when she wants to, and the pom noms flood in. Sterling work, commander!

Phil’s worker bees, Zoe and Katie J, were likewise a constant thorn in Teddington's side, thwarting attack after attack. Katie J, cool as ever, was doing exactly what Katie J does: appearing in exactly the right place at exactly the right time. Zoe was also everywhere, tracking runners, closing down space and getting into the thick of it whenever things got scrappy in the D. Another superb performance from our glorious back line.

Let's move up front. I'll be honest with you: last week, somewhere between the pitch and the car park, your two captains held a crisis meeting and a desperate decision was taken. Three games in, goals scarce, three heavy defeats - the situation called for drastic measures. "We need her," Kerrie said gravely. "We do," I agreed, staring into the middle distance. There was a long pause. Neither of us wanted to say it out loud. But the call had to be made. And so, with absolutely no regard for statutory maternity guidelines, we pulled Leah out of mat leave.

And what a JOY it was to welcome our co-captain back, returning to the pitch for the first time since January. The anticipation in the build-up was palpable, and having her out there with us gave the whole team a huge lift. She's back where she belongs. And don't for a second think she's forgotten a thing. Weeks of sleepless nights have, if anything, only sharpened her, as she slotted straight back into her old ways, creating danger, harrying the Teddington defence and generally making a thorough nuisance of herself. Handling a small, unpredictable human who refuses to do what you want is, it turns out, excellent preparation for facing a colts team. Thank you, friend! No more babies for the moment though, please. We’ve got games to win.

Her wingwomen today were the dynamic trio of Monica, Chengai and Anna, and for once, our forward line actually had something to do. This was proper end-to-end hockey, and we even won a couple of short corners, which, given recent form, felt like an exciting breakthrough. The passing and support play was a genuine delight: the three of them zig-zagged their way up the pitch, throwing balls forward for one another, popping up in space and generally creating merry mayhem in the Teddington half. I'd wager this was the toughest game the youngsters have had all season. Of particular note was the quality of our press, which, as I paced up and down the sideline, I heard Teddington complaining about on several occasions. Music to my ears! There was also one lovely moment when Chengai slotted the perfect ball up the right-hand side to Anna, who suddenly found herself with only a single defender to beat and acres of space ahead of her. Sadly, the enormity of the opportunity proved a little overwhelming, and Anna, in a moment of pure panic, sent the ball sailing off the side of the pitch behind her. We've all been there. But make no mistake, the signs are there. The goals are coming.

And actually, a goal DID come - and from the unlikeliest of sources…

If the start of this season has taught me anything, it’s that in the midst of a goal drought, people will cling to anything. And lately, one question has been on everyone’s lips: "Where's Cuddy?" That's when you know things are really bad…

(Has she retired after last season's spectacular hat-trick - the pinnacle of her hockey career, if not her entire life? Has she finally made the leap to the Ladies 7s, and we're all just dead to her now? Whisper it: has she gone back to OCs??)

I'll admit I thought all this talk was folly. I've known this player for a few years now, and she's excellent craic. I have to say that, because I'm about to be rude: she's just not usually the one I'd turn to when a goal needs finding. But today, ladies, this wildcard was an absolute standout. New season, new Cuddy. Well, sort of…

An hour before the game, a message flashed up on my phone: "Put me in centre forward." That’s the bit that’s not new. Having missed out on play day, and knowing full well that Rory would be watching from the sidelines, Cuddy had decided this game would be her own personal argument for promotion. When self-belief rides that high, you've just got to laugh and go with it. So into centre forward she went, confident it would at least give me some good material for the match report. It did. Just not the kind I was expecting.

Because what an argument it turned out to be. The pitch was doing its best to make life difficult, with balls bouncing in every direction, but Cuddy juggled the lot of them with the kind of 3D skills she’s only ever dreamed of, bringing each one under control, scattering impeccable passes and driving forward with pace and intent - for long stretches we actually looked like a team with a genuine attacking plan. Then came the moment. Someone threaded a pass so magnificently through to Cuddy on the halfway line that it beat every single Teddington player on the pitch and gave our plucky centre forward a clear run at goal (whoever you are, come forward and claim your stunning assist). Down the sideline, your correspondent was sprinting alongside her, abandoning all managerial dignity and losing her mind entirely. Into the D, the keeper came rushing out, and Cuddy, cool as you like, dropped her one way, shifted the other, and slotted it home on the reverse. An unbelievable solo goal. For this, she has deservedly been crowned our Player of the Match. It was a close-run thing, I'll admit, but in the end the title was clinched by a single decisive vote, cast with total conviction and absolutely no shame: by Cuddy herself. Confidence like that can't be coached. We will never hear the end of it, and frankly, she's earned that.

Now, a final note on our goalkeeper. Another stand-in, another sterling performance. Without a doubt, Scarlett kept the scoreline considerably more respectable than it otherwise would have been. And from the sideline, I'm learning a lot from these casual colts keepers, who clearly haven't yet learned that goalkeeping is meant to be a source of deep personal anguish. I'll be back next week, though, ladies, so brace yourselves for a return to the old ways: a lot of shouting, a little bit of goalkeeping, and at least one dive that's more for the cameras than the ball.