There are some Saturdays that feel like they have been set aside by the gods specifically for the boys, and this turned out to be one of them. The sun was shining, the men were well rested, and the stage was set for what Mitch Currie had so eloquently dubbed: “The Grand Final”.
The Thirsty 3s made the familiar trip up to Wasps FC, a venue that had already played host to a very successful Friday Night Lights outing just a couple weeks prior, graced with the presence of Head Coach Ryan. The boys couldn’t help but suspect this was less an act of coaching solidarity and more a calculated move to latch onto a winning side and salvage his win percentage, but in truth he had taken time out of his schedule to come down and found out if all the chat about the 3s being the best team in the club was true and boy did the lads do their best to make that particular joke true.
To his credit, he slotted right in and proved a real asset on the day — glad to have had him.
Finals day was in full swing with one of the oldest clubs in the land bathed in sunlight. The 22-degree heat had the boys dripping, the backs in anticipation of some champagne rugby and the forwards in sweat just from the heat… The warm-up began with a proper end-of-season buzz in the air, the only slight dampener being the surface, which appeared to have been modelled on the M25 in the height of August; hard as concrete and about as forgiving on the knees. Naturally, Captain Rob Mcdealt with this in the only way he knows how: applying industrial quantities of Vaseline with the focus and intensity of a man preparing for something deeply personal. One of the many tricks he’s learnt over his 30 years of rugby.
The occasion of the Grand Final had the boys at the right emotional level early and with the novelty of a professional warm up, the Hammers came flying out of the blocks with a level of intensity dial up higher than it had been all season. A side often found guilty of easing into games, this time the boys looked switched on from minute one.
Every carry was met with a hard shoulder, every loose ball chased, and for once Hammers looked like they had decided nothing was going to get in their way. Number 8 Kieran Smith got the boys on the front foot with big carries, Will Raftery set the tone defensively, launching himself into anything wearing a Hampstead shirt (that poor dog) and folding blokes five times his size and before the opposition had really woken up the Hammers had already gotten ahead.
The first try came after some top quality and proper patient phase play. Adam “The Spider” Stannard imperious in the lineout all day, putting all 8 of his limbs to good use, allowed the forwards to get to work with strong carries around the corner breaking the gain line, before the ball was shifted wide to Jules Storey in the corner, who had some making up to do after missing the semi-final because he had to pray to the porcelain god for the afternoon instead, touched down for his first of the day. Tim Jones was back to his metronomic best, after kicking with a 50 pence piece all last week, adding the extras.
7–0. Hell of a start.
The Hammers put their restart collection demons from the semis behind them and were straight back into Hampstead. More of the same got the boys back into opposition territory quickly, and a physical turnover earned an easy penalty right in front of the posts. This being a Grand Final the decision was easy, so Rob gave Tim Jones the nod who did the rest.
10 minutes in, 10 nil up, and the start could hardly have been better.
Fresh off the back of a MOTM performance the previous week, Will Raftery on the first of his definitely double digit carries found himself facing a relatively well set defence so to make a further point just proceeded to break five tackles on his way under the posts — moving less like a rugby player and more like a Vaseline-covered eel. Tim Jones converted (there’s a theme brewing here) and the now formerly famously slow-starting Hammers had 17 unanswered points on the board.
17-0, almost too good to be true
We knew that Hampstead weren’t going to go down without a fight though, as one of the better sides we had played this season and to their credit fought their way back into the game. After a bit of sustained possession and phase play which the Hammers defended vigorously they got a bit excited to make the next big hit and folded a little too hard around the corner, leaving the blindside short-staffed. Hampstead expertly exploited the mistake, worked a simple 2-on-1, and put their pace man away in the corner to get themselves on the board. A simple mistake put away very clinically, the trademark of a good side worthy of being in the final alongside us mighty Hammers.
17-5, no need to panic.
The boys took it on the chin and responded well, working their way back into a dominant position, before came one of the more unexpected sights of the afternoon: Kieran Smith, our resident big bosher who loves a bit of contact, deciding to switch things up for the Grand Final and throw a pass down the blindside to allow someone else a chance to score, however sadly, this bold new era of distribution lasted about half a second, as the pass was picked off with Hampstead’s fast lad making a good read to nab an intercept and run it in from about 95 metres. An unselfish act cruelly punished…
17–12, suddenly, it was very much game on.
Hampstead had their tails up now and started putting the 3s under the cosh. For the first time all afternoon, the momentum had shifted and your boys in red were having to dig in. Some really intense defence in the Hammers 22 forced Hampstead to try something special forcing a poor pass which James McKendery capitalised on to run the ball under the sticks. TJ added the extras, and Hammers went into half-time with the lead restored and a bit of breathing room just as things were getting a little too lively.
Half-time: Hampstead 12 – 24 Hammers.
The Hammers used the half time to rehydrate (a very necessary requirement on a day like today) and reinforce the game plan before they started to put the 7-man deep bench to good use with the front row joyous that there were 2 of their mates on the side lines to give them a rest, practically unheard of in 3s rugby! The boys were pumped up to put a real high note on the end of the season.
However, Hampstead weren’t keen to let the Hammers have it all their own way and came out for the second half fighting. Implementing a clear change of plan they began looking after the ball rather than trying to play too much from deep, going through phase after phase, and forcing Hammers into what felt like a 15-minute defensive drill nobody had asked for.
It was non-stop. Tackle after tackle, fold after fold, body after body being thrown in front of Hampstead carriers. Hammers defended bravely, with subs George Riley and (the less big) Andy Foley making the impact off the bench asked of them at half time making tackles everywhere and hitting rucks like they were pinatas at a Quinceañera but eventually the pressure told and Hampstead found their way over.
24–19 after the conversion. Squeaky bum time…
For a little while, the game had that horrible feeling where everything starts getting a bit too close for comfort. They boys regrouped under the posts and reminded themselves their opposition were one of the few teams to beat them on the field this season so got back to their game throwing more intensity into collisions and the stout defence became too much for Hampstead to handle. After regaining possession and building the phases again, some impervious play including a glorious 50-22 kick from Mitch Currie got the boys back into the oppo 22 before a penalty right in front of the posts let Tim Jones put 3 more on the scoreboard to keep it rolling the right way.
With the restart handled the boys get straight back into it with Jules Storey getting away to outpace his opposite man down the left hand side for his second of the day. Tim added the extras, and Hammers had a bit of breathing room again.
34–19, a swing in the right direction.
Still, Hampstead were not done… They kept coming, keeping hold of the ball, and forcing Hammers to defend tirelessly. In the middle of all this, yours truly Jordan Opie decided to contribute to this defensive effort by slapping the ball up (in his words but only in upside down world) in a ropey interception attempt to earn himself a slice of cheese and 10 minutes to rehydrate his brain. I am still firmly of the opinion that it was not actually a yellow and had far more to do with the build-up of team penalties beforehand. The referee, sadly, seemed less interested in this legal defence, the boys on the sideline even less empathetic in their ribbing.
Hampstead made the extra man count almost immediately, switching back to the blindside off a lineout after the forwards worked too hard to get around the corner forgetting we were a winger down, and scoring again to bring the game back within reach.
34–26. A little close for comfort.
Hammers needed a response, and boy, did James McKendry provide it. After already making his mark in the first half, he carried strongly again and powered his way over for his second of the afternoon. No fuss, no drama, just a big carry when the team needed one and you know how the conversion went.
39–26, that’s more like it.
With the sin bin served, Hammers were back to fifteen. Looking well rested, Jordan announced his return by smashing his opposite number into touch to win the lineout. Good way to make up for it but not enough to save him for a free pint and drafting of this match report. However, by this point the game started to unravel slightly, as final games of the season often do. Bodies were cramping, lungs were empty, and with Rob McKeon, our only actual hooker, taken off meaning the throwing duties were passed to a non-hooker, the lineout had become a bit of a lottery with the ball landing somewhere between the second row and the next postcode.
That being said the boys kept at it and didn’t let a tiring Hampstead back into the game. The last 20 minutes felt like they were all played in the opposition 22 with only the occasional turnover or mistake letting Hampstead clear their lines for a brief respite. Fresh pace from Conor “The Anal-yst” McGiven kept their fast winger in check and the extra grunt in the pack from recent first time tourists Si Irwin and Charlie Hay (that was in fact a red herring) forced errors leading to a scrum.
From the resulting platform, a solid scrum allowed James McKendry, keen to avoid any hattrick avoidance punishments crashed through the centres again almost reaching the try line. A last-ditch tackle from the fullback sent him sprawling and learning from a very dodgy decision last week that took a try off him, instead of reaching out to finish himself he unselfishly offloaded to tin man Jordan Opie on a great support line to finish from a metre out. Tim converted, and the 3s were starting to Hammer in the nails.
46–26, the beginning of the end.
There was still time for one last proper Hammers moment. With everyone running on fumes, Jules Storey found something left in the legs to get around and over for his hat-trick to put the result beyond any doubt. Tim added the extras, because of course he did, and that was that.
Full-time: Hammers 53 – Hampstead 26. An incredible performance.
It was an unreal shift from every single one of the boys. The final game of the season, the final whistle, and the job done:Â Middlesex Merit League Division 2 Playoff Winners. A mouthful of a title, a very small shield as the prize, a very big performance from all 22 Hammers on the day and the rest throughout the season.
The boys gathered in together, there were emotional words at the end from the captain, then came one final rendition of Country Roads for the season before beers in the sunshine. A fitting end to a brilliant campaign.
Promotion rugby waits next year.
And so it begins! Every Tuesday, from 7:30pm until beer o’clock, Hammers will bring the razzle and the dazzle! Join us at the Craven Cottage end of Bishops Park as we play our own special brand of Hammers Touch, followed by beers at Riverside in the evening sun where we will marvel the skill of our hands and and the fancy of our feet!
