Game 7 (Grudge Match): The Jolly Dodgers vs. Balls Deep

Highlights:

• Fancy dress Dodgeball grudge match against our friends and opposition, Balls Deep
• A Mariachi Band
• Tequila and wrestling chaos

The email had come through a few weeks ago announcing that fancy dress week would fall on the night of our match against friends and nemeses, Balls Deep. The ultimate grudge match with both pride and a night of drinks resting on it after a tipsy bet between Jolly Tony and Balls Santi. After last week's games, we'd decided on a Mexican theme but kept it secret even as we tricked other teams into revealing their plans. Let them squirm with suspense 'til Wednesday. 

It was a week of furious emailing. We all couldn't boast quick enough about what Mexican fashion delights we'd discovered. Greg's costume from the internet arrived, Ben sent us a teasing sultry shot of his outfit and Chris announced he could probably get his hand on a pack of nachos. I was optimistic he was fashioning the tortilla chip equivalent of the lady gaga meat dress between emails.  We struck gold when Chaotic Clare told us her new boyfriend had 20 Mexican wrestler masks under his bed. Kinky anonymous orgies or bank robber disguise? Now was not the time to question it. The plan was coming together. I'm no hippie but I somehow managed to pull three ponchos from my wardrobe. Yeah, you heard. Three. They were the onesie of the 2010s, weren't they? Even better was when Ellie announced she'd nicked an armful of sombrero from the school fancy dress cupboards. When the kids celebrate Mexican Day next week and she's forgotten to return them, I think there are going to be a lot of crying ninos in the classroom. You know we mean business when we risk the tears of the innocent.

A certain member of the team used all the musicians and production equipment at his disposal (and a little extra nabbed from a certain national broadcasting company) and called in 27 years worth of favours to put together the finest Mariachi this side of the Atlantic had ever seen. Previous dodgeballers Bateson and Rainbow were joining the fray with bass and standard ukeleles. Ellie's husband Phil volunteered to play some sort of cajon box drum, and Ellie agreed to split her time between dodging and playing Mexican fiddle. But a trumpeter who was free late notice and could play Mexican tunes remained unsurprisingly illusive.

Feeling the anticipation of a male praying mantis on the way to his first and last sexual conquest (one for the naturalists), we awoke on a grey morning with fire and fear in our bellies. Would we beat Balls Deep? Would Matt's toeshoes make an appearance? Would we get a sodding trumpet player?!

Tony arrived early to set up a mini studio and soon after the Mexicans descended on North Clapham Leisure Centre.  We had wrestlers, we had farmers, we had a cool chilli, we had more moustaches than the 1970s and we had the best attempt at a cactus that two pairs of tights, a weeks' worth of Evening Standards and five minutes could produce. Balls Deep arrived, nicely accessorising their signature orange headbands with some orange jumpsuits: 

And with La Bamba playing in the background we danced our way to our starting points. With an UN, DOS, TRES! we were off. 

It took all of our concentration and will power to keep on track during the first set, and our strongest lip muscles to keep the cheap moustaches in place. Somehow we managed to plough through our fits of giggles and hysterics to hit the opposition and catch crucial balls. With my hands buried between crunched newspaper and under tights, as a cactus (or chilli?) I couldn't hold balls long enough to throw them (though boy could I catch) and due to the restrictive material, the mask wearers' sight was limited to whatever was directly in front of them. As the only female wrestler and adorned with a Mexican flag, Kira looked brilliant and Chilli Greg proved as fiery as his costume as he leapt over balls and into catches:

(a catch and the moustache graveyard)

(Check out the strain on that face)

The Ole Dodgers won the first set and casually fell into the second. The ref did his best to keep things ticking along in a timely fashion but we were having none of it as we all took shots of new player Thom's tequila from the sidelines. Ariba!

We were at some point in the second set when some Tony-led chinese whispers came down the line suggesting that if we won the next game, we'd win the match. This was the first taste of victory we'd had since playing the Dodger Moores. I think the tequila was starting to take it's toll though as after the whistle blew we all managed to get out within the first minute. All except for Canadian Matt. Toeshoes now firmly in his past and with his moustache long since stuck on the wall in our makeshift facial hair graveyard, Matt found himself the sole player against five. You might write lesser Dodgeballers off, but with his powerful throws, basketball player leaps and ballet spins we didn't lose hope. One by one he picked off Balls Deep, like a cheetah cruelly snatching the young, weak and innocent buffalo from a herd. Wordlessly the rest of us embodied David Attenborough. Commenting in hushed tones from the sideline but not interferring with this natural course of events even as we heard the cries of wounded Balls Deep players. Then, out of nothing Matt made a catch! The numbers were evening up! Greg pelted back on to the caught only to be hit almost immediately and the whistle blowing seconds later ending the game. What can we say, Matt? Player of the week let down by a slow chilli. 

Ole Dodgers won the next game though, sealing victory. Then, like someone had flicked a switch, the game descended into anarchy. Tequila shots were flying as frequently as the balls and Santiago dived across the line, flooring Tony in the process. We turned to see the lycra-clad Mexican-Wrestler Tony in a rough and tumble with prisoner Santiago. It was like watching two lion cubs, if the lion cubs were middle-aged men in fancy dress tickling each other. The Mariachi band were in a frenzy, and after disengaging himself from the wrestle, Santiago took over the mic to give us some genuine Spanish commentary. Who knows what he was saying? I presume lots of rude things about our mums, but it sounded amazing. The set finished with Tony Kamikazi-ing his way out of every game, a swirl of Ben, Chris and Abbie's ponchos, Thom finally learning not to cross the middle line and Santiago hiding behind a blow-up cactus. 

(more photos of the Mariachi band in the background hopefully to follow)

After sticking around to check out the other teams costumes and watch the brilliant Zombie team stay in character for their first game (Shanes of Grah), we headed to the pub for some well earned beers. 

People sometimes talk about London being too big a city, where it's hard to meet new people and your 20/30 somethings being less about fun, and more about building your career, settling down and being sensible. Go Mammoth Fancy-dress dodgeball, mid-game tequila shots, a mariachi band, cross-team wrestling, Spanish commentary, a win and hundreds of celebratory beers with our favourite teams. We had the night of our bloody lives. We are living the fucking dream. 

P.S. We didn't get a trumpet player. 

Game 6: The Jolly Dodgers vs. Reservoir Dodge

So I've been a little quiet over the past few weeks on a Dodgeball blogging front and if I’m honest I was sulking a little and felt as emotionally battered as we were physically battered on the court. In brief, we were stupendously beaten two weeks in a row and encountered a distinct amount of what we felt was referee bias. Though, in hindsight and with a healthy pinch of sportsmanship I think we can admit that after a few (probably) honest ref mistakes, we were a little overly suspicious and judgemental of further refereeing decisions.

It was ok though; Tactics Greg was back! We were in no doubt why he'd been absent the past week. In a team-building group email chain, we all received some delightfully taunting out-of-offices explaining that unfortunately he couldn't get back to us at present because he'd decided to take a spontaneous holiday to Las Vegas where he was living it up and having the time of his life. Thanks, Greg. That made all of us feel great as we trekked to Clapham in the cold after long days at the office.

Still, the global home of gaming can only have helped him pick up some more TACTICS. Andy was absent once more (another date, eh?) but Dr Ben was present (if wearing non-regulation attire of a noticeably different pantone). Still, after watching a few episodes of BBC Three’s ‘The Year of Making Love’ (IN AN ATTEMPT TO SPOT MY COLLEAGUE, NOT BECAUSE WE LIKE IT. Seriously), we had strong faith in 'Science' and how it could help us win. Thumbs up Science!*

We were nervous about this week though; The Jolly Dodgers 2.0 were facing the one and only Reservoir Dodge, Grammy nominated and two-time Clapham Dodgeball league winners. It was like the Mighty Ducks vs. The Hawks. Or more realistically, like actual ducks trying to beat the Hawks now after they’ve had 21 years of practice at ice hockey. No, more like blindfolded actual ducks trying to beat the 21-year strong Hawks whilst being shot at with machine guns by their substitutes. Not a chance, mate.

Still, we had Greg, Kira and Tony back (who actually sacked off a money-making opportunity to attend) and Matt's toe shoes were nowhere in sight. The referee was late so another team's dodger had stepped up to help out and we were off! Aside from a comical fall over then line into our side by a Reservoir Dodger, and then a nothing-to-see-here backwards worm slither to his own half which we let slide because it was funny, it was an honest and well-fought first set.

Some outstanding catching from our opponents; they often dropped down with no warning and scooped up our best ankle shots. One particular strength in their team was a girl in long shorts who threw and caught amazingly, though was got out time and time again as she turned her back and bent to pick balls up. If she'd remembered to face forward, we wouldn't have stood a chance. The first set reached 2-2, and then a few nifty catches later, Reservoir Dodge were one set up.

Despite another set loss, we were pumped. Both teams were clearly having fun, were playing honestly and were enjoying the fact it was fairly close. Ben, Tony and Greg 1920s-danced their way slowly to the other side in time to the music and we readied ourselves for set 2.

'Put it all on black' yelled Tactics Greg, helpfully. The game began and he must have gone all BlackJack with a ‘Hit me! Hit me!’ as that seemed to happen a few times. After warning Abbie about the perils of the old easily-catchable netball chest pass, during the games where he wasn’t hit, Greg proceeded to follow suit (an unintentional card game reference) with a few ridiculous high balls. Kira just went for it throughout the game, consistently lobbing well aimed low balls to the opponents. Ben kept himself up front on the offensive quite admirably and along with Tony and Greg did some great leaping and diving. Resident statistician and teacher Ellie continued making some great cross court lobs at our opponents and got a fair few out. Abbie made a few catches, but as is now standard hadn’t quite worked out how to not get hit immediately after re-joining the team mid-game. Every time, Abbie!

We were 2-1 down in the second set, and the next game was make or break. Could the Jolly heroes claw a victory after weeks of defeat?

No. Of course they couldn’t. We lost the game without putting up even a hint of a fight. After a brief droop of our muscular shoulders, we resigned ourselves to our fate and resolved to drop the defensive and just bloody go for it. Second set also finished with a 2-3 result. We may have been defeated this time, but it was as close as it could have been.

We had nothing to lose and it seemed that’s when our best play came out. The third set began with laughter and kamikaze spirit. As mentioned in previous weeks (and presumably discussed behind my back by my teammates) I had yet to catch a Dodgeball since I began playing in September 2012. Not one. I think I told you; I’m a dodger, not a catcher (insert own Michael Jackson ‘The Girl is Mine’ spoken banter with Paul McCartney voice). But my time had come. It was fate. One by one my comrades fell and I found myself alone against four eager and ruthless reservoir Dodgers. The noise around me faded and all I could hear was my heartbeat. Guided by some inner genius I suddenly discovered my sixth sense. It was obvious. I just had to catch it. Bam! A ball hit the wall to my right. Wham! A ball shot by my left. Then with slow motion, my eyes locked onto a ball speeding towards me. I braced myself and closed my eyes. Whooomph! Silence fell. I staggered back. Regaining my balance, I opened my eyes and looked down in absolute shock to the dodgeball clutched in my arms. Yes. Victory!

I'm pretty sure a choir started singing 'Hallelujah' in the background as a teammate came back in as a result of my catch (presumably Tony, as he really is one of our best). A few more shots came towards me and with disbelief I caught another ball. I got it. I finally understood Dodgeball. Me and the balls were at one. Admittedly a ball then hit me in the hip and I had to slink off to the side, but that didn’t matter. We won the final set 3-2, and I caught another two balls in that time. We ended on a high and after we warmly thanked the Reservoir Dodge for bringing their best game, we headed to the reserved seating area at the Loft to discuss next week’s game. The ultimate grudge match against our friends ‘Balls Deep’ happened to also be on fancy dress night.

(We presume this was reserved for us and not a outrageously coincentally-named rival company, operating in the Clapham area on a Wednesday evening)

With a bonus point up for grabs for the fancy dress and a night of free drinks waged with Balls Deeps’ Santiago, this was truly going to be the match of the season. The preparation starts now.

League table: see here 

*See the end of this article for some official suspicion of this so-called science.

Game 3: The Jolly Dodgers vs. The Dodger Moores

23rd January 2013

The team arrived full of optimism in Clapham last night. Greg was back from his vague work fieldtrip, and for the first time in Jolly Dodger history in some sort of snow-induced phenomenon, we had a substitute player. Seriously guys,  A SUBSTITUTE. Our opponents were the Dodger Moores, and we all took a moment to reluctantly agree that it was actually a pretty good name. Having dressed themselves in stripper-esque black bowtie against a bare-neck outfits thus far in the league, the Dodger Moores had taken it up a notch and were sporting some company sponsored tux t-shirts. Lined up like a shift of energetic waiters, their intimidating image was only slightly lessened by one male player’s short shorts (if you need visuals see here).

We looked on optimistically as the Dodger Moores took up the referee on her offer of rule explanation. Amateur first-game confusion on their part could only work in our favour. After utilising the referee for her fabulous photography skills and with the music pumping, the game began with the first of many unacknowledged false-starts over the course of the next 45 minutes. With some synchronised attacks from us, some synchronised ball drops by the other team and some invigorating tunes by the Clapham Leisure centre DJ, set one went 5-0 to yours truly.

After a tough game for the Jolly Dodgers 2.0 last week, without doubt we were back on top form. The shame, the horror and the anger all fuelling an onslaught not witnessed since the opening of the Jimmy Saville Abuse hotline. The Dodger Moores put up a worthy fight; one double-oh number (James) was the last-man standing in nearly all games throughout the match. His quick-like-a-cat spin to a sideways-on stance dodging tactic worked a treat, as well as his doubles-tennis-player-near-the-net crouch when left holding the dodge fort single-handedly. Embarrassingly, it had never occurred to us that a reduction of body surface area was a good approach to dodging! The rest of the team too threw themselves about with wild abandon, but time and time again, they found themselves pounded by a Jolly Dodger throw.

From our side, the sulking hero of last week Ellie provided fantastic distraction throughout the game with two horrendous dropping of balls whilst attempting to throw them, followed by a twirl and giggle as she ran away in embarrassment. Amazing, but seriously, twice in one game, Ellie (we need to talk about this).

It really was a week for the girls though. Alongside Ellie’s definitely (cough) deliberate flailing, Abbie made some superb catches, and Kira and I both caught and eliminated more players than ever before. Our female opponents also showed some strong skills and spirit. At one point, one of the Dodger Moorettes appeared to be crying. Abbie took the chance during a game reset to check she was ok and if we’d done anything to offend or hurt her (beyond our crushing Dodgeball play). Fortunately, it wasn’t our doing; her eyes were watering because one of her own players had elbowed her in the face. An accident we presume, rather than a brutal leadership style…

The Jolly Dodgers’ male players had a mixed game. Greg ‘No, seriously guys, WE NEED TO USE TACTICS’ Foot slammed the ball into the face of a girl with glasses (also an accident!), though immediately took himself off-court, visibly laden with guilt. Some great throwing by the rest of the lads though and Ben appeared to have 100% improvement on his dive and catch rate, leaving the game with bruises but also, finally, with eliminations under his belt. Bear Kemp Andy prowled behind Greg, awaiting ball provision to pelt the opponents with and Tony and Matt (without toe shoes) enjoyed the game and team spirit so much, they were actually happy to take their turns as subs. None of their usual frustrated-because-we’re-competitive-but-not-very-good-and-losing-ourageously attitude

We eventually reached the final games. A valiant team, the thrashed Dodger Moores continued to smile and charge at us on the whistle with a lion’s roar. To no avail, and I think during that game the Jolly Dodgers actually had a clean sweep of the balls at the start of the game. Just a little friendly advice Dodger Moores; too much roaring, not enough running.

Presumably to our opponents’ relief, the match finally ended. A 15-0 victory to the JD 2.0s. Then with probably the most sincere and heartfelt sportsmanship seen so far post-game, both sides shook hands and agreed it was one of the most entertaining and honest games we’d ever played. We followed up on this unifying game by heading to the Loft and asking to sit with the team. We spent the evening rubbing each others backs (and more…), talking about innovation and discussing fancy dress ideas for later in the season.

Dodgeball night in statistics (compiled by teacher/Dodgeball statistical analyst, Ellie):

·        Score: 15 v 0 to the Jolly Dodgers (epic)

·        Ellie’s contribution to score: 0

·        Boob shots suffered: 1

·        Face-shots: 2

·        Dropping the ball whilst actually trying to throw it: 2 by Ellie

·        Beers: too many to count

·        Inappropriate collective leg massages: 1

·        Former Channel 4 hit series Teachers cast members met: 1

·        Zombies met: 2 (volunteers for 2.8hours later: http://2.8hourslater.com/)

·        Enjoyment: 100%

Bring on game 4.

Game 2: The Jolly Dodgers vs. Dodgy Style

16th January, 2013

Battling their way through a Michael Fish-esque forecasted arctic storm (!), the Jolly Dodgers 2.0 easily made it to Clapham Leisure Centre for the early 7pm whistle. Defying all TFL delay warnings, they in fact arrived 20minutes early, allowing for a significant warm-up session. After discovering last week with relief that no other team had picked bright green for their team shirts, we finally committed the effort to complete the team strip, aiming to design a logo which would fulfil all appropriate categories (with the exception of comedy) and ideally take no longer than an episode of Miranda to create. After several hours of painful Photoshop tweaking, intricate cutting of transfer paper and green staining of the Bermondsey household’s table through Tony’s unsophisticated ironing technique, we were able to emerge with heads held high and a relevant (if barely adequate) team outfit. We hoped this was a two-fold victory; the skull and crossbones would surely intimidate our opposition to a state of petrified wimbling and by passing over T-shirt ownership to each player, we’d never EVER again have to wash the entire team’s sweaty gear. Abbie – we’re all sorry and utterly grateful that this responsibility fell to you.

We were ready – no – more than ready to face Dodgy Style, a team we presume were named to celebrate one of their players I-finally-feel-like-I’m-winning-at-life successful mash up attempt of 90’s classic ‘Good Enough’ with Psy’s 2012 hit. The Jolly Dodgers had a slightly different structure this week with ‘what do you actually do?’ Greg Foot living up to his name-tag by being absent on suspiciously vague work grounds. Back from Canada, 4-season strong Kira returned to the fold, hardened by the North American weather and invigorated by her first visit home in 18months. After fearing that Matt would be absent because of a ‘work dinner’ he turned up dressed in his finest toe trainers. Yeah, we’re talking these hobbit-like bad-boys http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vibram_FiveFingers. How could we lose with that technology to support us?

We recognised a few of Dodgy Style from last season: Kwai, a threatening, basketball-player like opponent and a girl (whose name I don’t know) with an unusual, but effective side-lobbing throwing style. Both were good, and we knew it was going to be tough game.

And so it began with a 3-2-1 FWEEEEEE (that’s the whistle) from the new referee. The first set was intense and closely fought. In one game, down to two vs. two, Kira was unluckily clipped on the ankle just as the whistle blew, bringing the score to 1-2. In the next game, controversy struck! Ellie received a shot to the back of her head (which was positioned at usual head level) that seemed clear to both us and the referee to be an illegal shot (it was obviously accidental, but still illegal), only to discover our opponents felt hard-done by this decision. A short while later the game ended, with the Jolly Dodgers 2.0 on top. Assuming victory of the game, we retreated to our wall for the final game and stood perplexed as there appeared to be some heated conversation between Dodgy Style and the referee. We’re still not quite sure what the actual argument was (does the back of the head not count as the head?), as when making efforts to discuss, Dodgy Style dismissed our interest and angrily (and ‘generously’) allowed us the game...

Possibly with the exception of Tony, the Jolly Dodgers 2.0 are a relatively uncompetitive team. It’s just a bit of a funny game, isn’t it? You can’t be that competitive when you’re the only person left against a full-side and you find yourself leaping about like a camp lord (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Louie_Spence) in the hope that you’ll at least finish the certain-defeat game with some semblance of pride. And we understand that in the heat of the game (which started so closely contested) individual decisions can wind you up slightly, but we were slightly putout by the hostility that this one verdict created. We hadn’t even pressed for the accidental head-shooter to be eliminated, which the Go Mammoth website rules declare was in our right (though this was mainly because we didn’t know about this rule until I just looked it up two minutes ago…)

With childish pride, we can announce that centre-of-controversy Ellie, a primary school teacher from Tooting, responded with equal hostility at what she perceived as un-sportsmanlike, overly-serious conduct (despite my battle terminology of last week, it’s Dodgeball in Clapham not war in the Middle East). In a move presumably learned from her six year old students, she initially refused to continue with the game and then once convinced to rejoin, sulkily lurked at the back of the pitch with a strong level of disinterest, slowly moving out of the way of Dodgeballs. The first set justly went in favour of Dodgy Style, though Ellie staying in until the end, with the other team not realising she was playing at one point due to her deliberate, nonchalant lean against the back wall, felt like a small victory for the downbeat Jolly heroes.

Set two began and perhaps the energising anger of Dodgy Style and the result of 20minutes intense and excessive warming up/pre-game throwing by the Jolly Dodgers 2.0, led to a brutal 5-0 win for the opposition. Their system of substitution was well done, and their team-wide strong throwing meant that most Dodgeballs bounced back to them without interference, allowing for a consistent offensive. No need to say any more about this set.

Aware that we had already lost the game, the Jolly Dodgers 2.0 threw ourselves into set three with abandon. Literally. We all watched in delighted slow motion as just after dealing a front-line throw, Tony dropped into a press-up to avoid an incoming ball and were devastated when it just clipped the back of his ankle. Ben leapt about like a voodoo masked tribesman dancing around a fire and Andy again appeared confused with one or two of the rules. Ellie impressed us as she caught several of fearsome Kwai’s throws and despite a severe case of tendonitis, Abbie proved a solid team mate. With regret though, I must note that Matt’s toe-shoes didn’t seem to improve his game at all. He definitely shouldn’t be embarrassed about wearing them though. Definitely.

As the assault continued, the Jolly Dodgers accepted their crushing defeat with laughter and continued whooping and we hope Dodgy Style’s improved mood was also due to the enjoyment of the game! No hard feelings, and what a team to find yourself up against.

The loft after for commiseration drinks with mutual losers Balls Deep.

Game 1: The Jolly Dodgers vs. 11 Shanes of Grah

9th January, 2013

And so begins a new Dodgeball season. Out of the ashes of the first 'serious' league's grappled-together-and-sometimes-struggling-to-put-out-a-full-side team of 2012, The Jolly Dodgers were hoping a committed, talented set of individuals would arise. With strength to rival Arnold Schwarzenegger, agility to rival Jessica Ennis, elasticity to rival Stretch Armstrong and with every Wednesday night free. After a pre-game strategy planning session/rule run-through and wedge of hydrating orange (well, glass of juice in the Go Mammoth discounted bar), seasoned players Moran and Shaw led the troops into the Dodge Battlefield, walled within Clapham's Leisure Centre. Heads held surprisingly aloft with the shame of the previous season's weak attempts at victory clearly brushed under a carpet and adorned in Sports Direct's finest green polo shirts (RRP two for a fiver) sans comedy logo (as Nicole had been too lazy to design it).

The atmosphere was buzzing as players signed away their safety on the Dodgeball form in exchange for a 2013 Go Mammoth T-Shirt; a noble sacrifice for the stylish red number. Watching the dying stages of a previous skirmish, the time eventually came for The Jolly Dodgers 2.0 to emerge from the sidelines into the enemies’ sight. First came archers Tony and Canadian Matt, with well-acknowledged powerful throws and gymnastically-impressive dodging. Next were the cavalrymen with horse-like grace and drive, new teammates Andy, Ben and Greg, who had only encountered the game at a Dodgeball party three years previously. And last but not least, the Dodgeball fodder infantry(wo)men to make up the female minimum requirement, Nicole, a slightly tardy Ellie and team secretary, motivator and coach Abbie.

The enemy at the gates: 11 Shanes of Grah, (wait, is that Grahhhh? Grey? Gra?) dressed in a less than intimidating mix of greyish T-shirts. First rule of Dodgeball: wear matching team gear if you want to appear at all threatening. One point to the Jolly Dodgers.

The six balls were unevenly lined up, the players restrained themselves to the appropriate wall with a stretched hand or foot, and the yellow Go Mammoth referee brought the whistle to his lips. And so at 7.40pm, Battle began.

New recruits Greg, Andy and Ben impressed with their enthusiasm, power and suggestion of using tactics. Tony hurdled over incoming cannoning Dodgeballs, Matt pelted to the front to smash balls against eager, forward standing enemies and Abbie pulled a muscle. As a dark cloud of pain and nausea descended over our leader, Ellie arrived and enthusiastically threw herself toward the mid-way line, succeeding in destroying crucial members of the other team, though often with kamikaze results. 

Perhaps unbeknownst to her comrades, Nicole only touched the ball twice in the first set, but presumed her dominating presence was vitally influential in the first victorious wave of battle, with the team securing the first set 3-2.

Having had a bit of a stretch, Abbie returned and led the Jolly D's to a 4-1 victory in the second set. The enemies played valiantly. With Dodgeball-friend Jordan a strong thrower and a gazelle-like female jointly impressing/amusing, with her speed, enthusiasm, and frequent newborn-giraffe-on-ice falls, 11 Shanes of Grah (apparently including team members Shane and Grah-am. Clever) offered a good defence, and went into the scuffle with good humour. But even with their energy-restoring system of substitutions, they were no match for the aggressive and powerful machine that was the Jolly Dodgers 2.0.

The game's victory sealed, the team went into the third set feeling pretty relaxed. Tony continued to throw himself around the field like a beach volley ball player trying to look up girls’ skirts, Nicole provided an easy target by turning her back on the enemy to explain the rules to Andy mid-game, and all showed a supreme catching-ability not seen since Australia’s victory and England’s shameful 0-5 defeat in the 06-07 Ashes series. A closely fought set, the still-victorious Bermondsey-initiated collective sadly lost 2-3. They left the combat arena to cheers of support from the onlookers and were declared "a real threat" by one of the Go Mammoth employees.

After filling in for another team, allowing the rookie players a little more practice, the whole team piled into The Loft for post-battle analysis and BOGOF bottles of becks. The merriment flowed, and the Jolly Dodgers 1.1 team proceeded to learn about their new, skilled comrades. The Lancastrian Bear Grylls meets Ross Kemp, ration pack eating Andy, the Wellcome Trust’s PhD extraordinaire Ben and nodule-growing, vagina-throated ‘what do you actually do?’ Greg. Several beers, a slated burger and a few Steve Wright ‘Alllllright! Ooooook!’s later, and a lifelong Dodgeball friendship was established.

Bring on game 2.