My brilliant hockey career

Written as part of Amy Johnson Crow’s “52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks” challenge. This week’s topic: Sports

I was an avid sports fan but not much interested in playing, but there was no choice when I started at Yeovil Girls High School.  Hockey, netball and rounders, one each term, were all compulsory.  When it came to hockey I just knew I was not going to run up and down the field, so I made a smart move and chose to play in goal.  I used to sneak a book to the field, hidden in my pads, to read while the play was at the other end of the field.   

While the other girls had to run up and down the field, I hung out in goal.

My parents separated during my third year at Yeovil, and my sister and I were sent to boarding school.  On my first weekend there I found myself being asked what position I played in hockey.  Armed with the knowledge that we would have to play twice a week, I figured I’d make my pitch for my lazy position of choice.  “Oh wonderful” the senior replied, “both our first and second XI goalies left last year, so come down to practice this afternoon.”  That was not a request, so I turned up as required, cursing my big mouth.  Sure enough, I now had to play not just the two class sessions but at least one and often two matches every week through two both fall and winter terms.

Not me, but could have been

Four years of playing several games each week, but then at last I could leave it behind as I set off to college.  Not so.  My college roommate was a keen hockey player.  “Oh go on,” said Jean, “give it a try.”  So I reluctantly set off for another three years of mud and rain and cold and kicks and bruises.  But there were consolations.  The college playing grounds were a good long busride out of the city, and every Saturday and Wenesday we would make the trek out to the clubhouse and fields – along with members of other sports teams including men’s hockey and soccer. A core group of us remained friends throughout our three years at UCL. 

The guys’ team 1962

 And suppose somewhere along this way I must have got to like playing, despite it all. I must have, for some years later I found myself playing, in goal again, for the Dar es Salaam Women’s Hockey Club in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania.  The conditions were somewhat different – hot evenings, hard-packed ground instead of mud – but much the same camaraderie and excitement.  And it was a here that my career reached its apex. My finest achievement, due to absolutely no effort on my part, came on the day we were scheduled to play at the National Stadium.  

The National Stadium, Dar es Salaam, Saba Saba Day 1965. We didn’t have this kind of a crowd for our hockey game.

 We were not the main item on the program, merely a warm-up for the men’s team.  But our opponents were special.  It was the Pakistan national men’s team returning from the recent Olympics in Tokyo, where they had been the defending champions but had lost 1-0 to India in the final.  

Given the inevitable lop-sidedness of this matchup, the Pakistani men were to play one-handed.  But on the field we discovered a problem.  Even with the handicap our opponents could not accept firing at a woman in goal.  So before the game could start I and the opposing goalie switched places.  

It was an exciting game for our club, who performed admirably but did not score a goal.  In fact I may not have faced a single shot from my regular team mates.  But it was still the peak of my career to play for a team of Olympic silver medalists, however little action I saw.  And I certainly did not have a book hidden in my pads for that game.