The cruel abusers? Let’s just call them Smabbie and Stony (and
in some respects, equally guilty onlooker Snicole) from the Sholly Shodgers. The victims?
Let’s just call them Chips and Ian. Because they’re goldfish and those are
actually their names.
Of unknown origin, Chips and Ian started
their childhoods in an all-male home (not like that) in Tooting along with
several other adoptees who didn’t make it past their early years; victims of
fish flu, gang warfare and sometimes victims of simply being so stupid they
forgot to breathe. Concerned about the effect of bringing up kids in Tooting
with so much violence and death around, Stony found them a mum and moved them
to a flat in Bermondsey. Like many council estate parents, knowing how tough
life was and the fish-eat-fish world we live in, they decided they had to be
cruel to be kind. Chips, a poor, orphaned, estate fish clearly wasn’t going to
grow up to be Rock Starfish and downtrodden, permanently under-nourished Ian
wasn’t going to end up in the diamond-encrusted pond of Elton John’s estate. It
just wasn’t on the cards for them. But maybe, just maybe they could become
undercover police sting(ray) officers. Or if a career with the filth wasn’t for
them, perhaps ruthless, but successful loan sharks. They were treated fairly
but with discipline; never given things on a plate and having to work for their
survival. It was harsh, but in the mid-naughties in South London, it was
necessary. They grew up tough, with a chip on the shoulder (well just Ian, but
that’s because the tank was small and he often had to be a chair for his
fried-potato friend) and with aggression in their swim. But time had come for
them to move on. Doubting their abilities as parents and concerned about their
futures, like the Fresh Prince’s mum before them, on this night in the Loft in
Clapham, Stony and Smabbie agreed to send their little ones off to the Bel Air
of London; the What If! Offices in Baker Street.
So this Wednesday night, Chips and Ian whistled for a cab
and when it pulled near, were helped in and driven through Elephant and Castle,
Kennington and the grim streets of Stockwell to Clapham Leisure Centre, where
their Uncle James was waiting to take them to their new home. We walked in, just casual gym visitors holding a large bottle of water with two frantic goldfish inside. Nothing weird about that, Clapham. Stop looking at us like that.
Yeah, they were going to a new home, but not before they got to watch their first (and probably last)
epic game of Dodgeball though.
Just so we could say goodbye properly, we arrived 40minutes
early. The goodbyes were cut short though as Abbie and I were roped into
playing for a team with too few girls. We ended up playing for the Deadly
Donkeys against Dodgy Style. Teams 1 and 2 in the league apparently, and after
a whole three sets, it was pretty clear how they’d got to the top of the
league. I won’t reveal too many of each team’s tactics and approach, but let’s
just say it included a flagrant disregard for rules and sportsmanship, an
unpleasant level of aggression, shouting and swearing and a willingness to override
any referee decisions regardless of the accuracy of those decisions. The most
unpleasant game I’ve ever played. Both teams as bad as each other. The only
thing that made it redeemable was the comical reactions from spectators who’d
picked up on the unsportsmanly tone of the match and were booing and heckling anytime
anyone touched or threw a ball. Never again.
Right. Now down to the serious business of Jolly Dodgers 2.0
vs. The Incrediballs. We’d had subtle word from Go Mammoth's James A. the previous
night that we were potentially looking at an easy match, as our opponents were supposedly lurking near the bottom of the league. The actual bottom of the league of course reserved for the lovely (but shit) Dodger Moores. Without wanting to make others complacent, I kept this info to
myself ahead of the match, but took in a healthy dose of complacency myself.
Error. As the first set began, I realised this team were actually a threat.
They had some really strong throwers and catchers, with one girl being
particularly lethal in her mopping up of our thoughtless high throws. The first
set was fast, fun and finished a close 3-2 in the Jolly Dodgers’ favour.
Knowing this would be the last memory Chips and Ian would
ever have of us (with all previous memories presumably forgotten), we made
every three seconds count. Less concerned about the fish, Kira and Matt teamed
up Canadian style with Matt producing some insanely good throws and Kira probably
racking up more on-court minutes than the rest of us; Greg was back in town and
as energetic as ever, spending his game creating as many different body shape
jumps as he could; Thom had nailed the middle line rule though sadly
helpful stand-in Adam hadn’t quite; Tony dropped to the floor a few times in
what might now be his signature dodge and did an amazing cross court slice, catching an Incrediball by complete unawares and Abbie also caught the
opponents by surprise by abandoning her scoop of a floor ball to catch the
opponents long throw mere centimetres to the right. It was actually so mindblowingly unexpected and unlikely,
understandably the other team didn’t think it had happened. WE didn’t even
quite believe it, but it definitely occurred right there in Clapham on Wednesday 6th March at around 8.40pm. The ref hadn’t seen and our cries
of ‘Catch! Catch!’ fell on deaf ears as the Incrediballs presumably thought we
were cheating, so played on. Mid next game I took a second to clarify to the
thrower that we weren’t trying to cheat, and whilst it looked impossible and ahead
of it I would have given Abbie a 5% chance of catching a ball like that (at most), against all odds she really had done it. He appreciated the explanation and
apologised for not going off, and we parted laughing about it. Good cross-team
banter and honesty. Something other teams – not pointing any of my donkey fingers
as that’s not my style – might want to consider. Just saying.
As seems to happen most weeks when he’s not busy
*cough*going out with his new lady friend*cough*, Andy hid off
court as the game started, just so he could appear mid-game in a dramatic
fashion without warning. It’s almost like he just emerges out of the wall like
that bit in Terminator 2 where T-1000 liquid-metal shapeshifts out of the
floor. Or more realistically like Harry emerging from Kings Cross onto Platform
9 and ¾. Always unexpected and always explosive. He had a great game.
I, on the other hand, got hit in the face. And Matt caught a
ball which had deflected off me before I could catch it, thereby getting me
out. WE’RE ON THE SAME TEAM, TOE-SHOES.
Thom also showed himself up a bit when we had a near full
side against one Incrediballs girl and he lobbed the ball at least 10m away
from her, and across to the other court. We asked him to sit the next game out
and think about what he had done.
The Incrediballs were fun. We won the second set, but it was
still a close match. As well as entertaining by bringing their best dodging,
one player also entertained by losing his glasses every few minutes on the
floor. One time they slid across to Tony who hilariously put them on and
tauntingly continued the game. I mean, it probably sounds like bullying, but it
was seriously funny. There didn’t seem to be a lot of laughter from Glasses
McGee, but presumably that was because he couldn’t see what was happening. They
had the last laugh though as Tony failed to master the Incrediballs superhero ray-glasses
and couldn’t see the ball flying straight for him. Well played, Incrediballs.
Well played.
Final set flew by and we were 2-1 up and ahead in the next
game (the last game of the match as it happened, because we ran out of time).
The Incrediballs found themselves with one player against a school of Jolly
Dodgers (fish reference. A call back.). The Incrediball knew the only thing you
could do in this instance was go for catches so he helpfully passed all the
balls back to us. A little too helpfully actually, and in a moment of
forgetfulness he just did a gentle underarm throw to Tony. Game over.
Hand shaking to finish and then all off to to the Loft for drinks, where we only just stopped ourselves from agreeing to a hunger games battle-to-the-death wager of Chips and Ian vs the Japanese Fighting Fish at James' office. There was a round of drinks at stake, but after the lives they've led, like 16th Century British nobles who've spent their lives and energies on battle fields fighting the French and Scottish, they deserve to retire to their castle in peace.
Chips and Ian; A Journey:
The Halcyon days
Literally poo-ing themselves with excitement
The 'tank to jug to bottle via a man-made funnel' manoeuvre
For transit
Editor's note: Some photos aren't real and are intended to demonstrate a stage in the proceedings that wasn't photographed. I'll leave you to spot the fake
Thursday morning. From James's flat to the What If! offices
The Castle, and peace at last...I give those other fish 5 minutes. Tops
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