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: 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.

Captains log April 11^th, 2026. We set sail on the good ship Hammer with high spirits and safe in the knowledge there was only one more encounter before we could return to port for a well-earned rest.

Farnham Bay was home to a swirling wind that was almost as fierce as the DJ they’d hired for the day. Despite a long discussion between Captn’ Tommy and Bo’sun’s mate Joe Carolan; the decision was taken out of our hands and we were to play into said wind for the first half.

Straight form the kick off we were given a lineout where up stepped Quartermaster Zak Prop…He delivered a textbook lineout which gave us false hope for the rest of the day….Play was eventually stopped on the far side as we were tackled into touch.

The next 5-10 minutes was a rocky period as we were finding our sea legs. Several silly pens and some trundling runs from the hosts saw us eventually pinned in our own 22. However, step forward Cabin Boy Josh AA! Recovering a loose ball, he stormed forward dodging the larger men all grabbing at him and headed straight for the opposition try line, leaving a wake of attempted tacklers in the way. Unfortunately, his dreams were cut short around the half way line as he was eventually caught – the offload missing fellow Cabin Boy Ben Dugdale, was recovered by Farnham who managed to run it in and draw first blood. 5-0.

The choppy seas weren’t done with us yet as head Navigator Ted Shand managed to kick the ball in the wrong direction from the kickoff gave Farnham the ball again deep in our half. On an undercover mission Captain Tommy managed to stow away in the opposition maul and secure a turnover on our own 22m line. From this point, it was full steam ahead for HMS Hammers! Bombarding the enemy lines with rounds of carries, winning the occasional scrum pen and Petty Officer Dan Whitts cleaning up any stragglers that got through. All this pressure was eventually rewarded when First Mate Tim Russell snuck over in the far corner! 5-5.

A penalty from the following kick off put us in prime position again. Following some ‘interesting’ lineouts we managed to press on and keep up the attack. Again, Tim Russell finds the same corner – you’d have thought they might have seen that coming….5-10.

After the restart, some excellent counterattack sees Old Seaman Bryce Morgan nail an impeccable 50:22; ‘that’s incredible’ cried Ted. What a boon for the boys as we marched to the 22 to pillage our spoils….oh wait…. Ref said no…. Lineout Farnham….

We eventually managed to recover the ball and continue our assault, this time Joe Carolan managed to blast through a small gap and dot it down under the posts. Much to the amusement of the DJ, he even managed to convert this one. 5-17.

Just before the half time whistle there was one more opportunity for an attack. A break up the pitch created a small gap, into which flew the human periscope Luke Wilson! In an excellent position, with great vision and terrible execution Luke attempted the pass to Bryce but alas found the touch line….half time it is.

The second half opened with a huge volley from the Long 9 Cannons as Chief Gunner Joe blasted a monster of a kick and put just 2m too much on it. Scrum back to Farnham in our 22. Strong defense forced a turnover and via a classic TP pick-and-go through the middle we were on the front foot again. The offload made its way to Periscope Luke who this time carried deep into the opposition half and recycled efficiently. With a few quick plays and some great hands, Petty officer Dan Whitts managed to find the line in the far corner. (what he was doing there I’ll never know). 24-5.

A loose pass gave away the ball following the kickoff, but we held strong and managed to clear our lines eventually. This was however, to be our last bit of respite for a while….. a storm was upon us.

The ship took heavy damage as the mast broke, scrums faltered, lineouts collapsed and our tackling nets were ripped. While desperate repairs were conducted, Farnham managed to regain all the ground we’d taken and scored 3 unanswered tries! An uncharacteristic intercept from the Petty Officer, a period where we looked more likely to catch scurvy than a ball and a very questionable pass to Old Man Jones in the crow’s nest had cost us dearly. 26-24.

Finally, with the leaks plugged and the sail back up, we struck back! With a great steal from the kickoff and some flashy hands, Ship Mascot and Mad Puppy Chris Thompson bagged the points! 26-29

Following a clean kick off receipt and well performed exit, we were met with disaster! Farnham came firing back and managed to find a gap on the wing to score again. 31-29.

We’ve faced this position many times this year and on this day, we were not going to roll over! We picked ourselves up and headed back to the fray. A penalty was awarded from the kickoff and a quick tap (courtesy of Admiral Gregory’s just f*ing play policy) led to yet another corner try for Tim Russell! 31-34.

Next score was crucial, but this time the winds were in our favour! Farnham’s kickoff was blown back over their own 10m into the hands of Luke Wilson. Several strong carries and great phase play later saw us approach their 22. A cheeky pick and go from Joe was offloaded to yours truly who crashed over to seal the deal. An easy conversion for Joe and the final scoreline was set: 31-41.

With great stoicism we held out for the last 3 minutes until the realisation set in that our final voyage had been a success! With only one minor injury incurred at the very dead where Old Seaman Bryce was bitten by a dreadful spindly killer Farnham fish! A straight red card proved a soothing balm, as we were declared victors!

A fantastic way to end the campaign and one proud Captain! Hell of a shift from all the crew but special mention to the young Cabin Lad who got man of the match.

 

There’s a particular kind of Saturday that every rugby player secretly craves. Not the grim, sideways-rain, one-score thriller that leaves you questioning your life choices in a cold shower but the other kind. The kind where the opposition arrive looking slightly uncertain, the first half ends before they’ve had time to find their feet, and by the time it’s all over, the scoreboard reads like a victory parade rather than a confession.

Saturday the 28th was that kind of Saturday.

Mostly.

Hammersmith & Fulham 2s welcomed Worthing Raiders ‘A’ to the fortress – and wasted absolutely no time in making their intentions clear.

From the first whistle, Hammers set about making themselves very much at home. The game settled comfortably in Worthing’s half, as if the ball itself had decided it had no particular interest in venturing north. Hammers pressed, probed, and generally behaved like a side with a point to prove – which, as it turns out, they very much did.

The tries came with a pleasing, almost metronomic regularity. Four of them before the break. All converted. Twenty-eight points on the board before Worthing had so much as adjusted to the occasion. It was the kind of first half that prompts a quiet rethink in the away changing room.

Ben Hibberd opened the account in the manner of a man who had been quietly waiting for permission. Chris Thompson followed – less waiting, more insisting – a man who approaches the gain line less as a suggestion and more as a personal affront.With a few silky steps and a reach Max Dugdale adds his name to the scoresheet. Finally, the man who moves like a Slinky winger Sam Nursey weaves his way through defenders and dots the ball down in the corner to finish the half. Geoff Mahon, untroubled by the occasion, slotted all four conversions. Twenty-eight points. Nil to Worthing. Half time.

The second half, to Worthing’s credit, offered slightly more resistance – the kind that arrives when a side has nothing left to lose and everything to prove. However, early in the half the ball was chipped over the Worthing defenders and recovered by the Hammers backs after which the ball was given to Gregor Watson who turns on the gas and scores in the corner. Later in the half Sam Herron then adds his name to the scoresheet and Chris Thompson secures his brace.

And then there was the first incident.

Every match has one. That moment where the afternoon briefly forgets it’s a rugby match and remembers it’s also theatre.

Sam Smith – not the Grammy-winning, genre-fluid pop sensation, to be absolutely clear – took a boot to the face. Gracelessly. Deliberately. And entirely out of sight of a referee who, at that precise moment, appeared oblivious to the laws of the game.

This later led to Will Denny, who observed this injustice from across the pitch, covering the ground between himself and the offending player in a manner that suggested he had no interest in a measured conversation, and delivered what can only be described as an RKO. Out of nowhere. As they always are.

The effect was galvanising. Within moments, most of the players had reached their own conclusions about whether to get involved and unanimously decided yes. Order was eventually restored, words were had, and the match resumed with the slightly charged atmosphere.

Worthing, it seemed, had not entirely learned their lesson.

Late in the second half, Jordan Brown received a firm hand-off to the face – the sort of greeting that falls some distance outside the accepted conventions of sportsmanship. In the vicinity of a loose ball and with the referee watching attentively – Jordan’s boot made contact with the ball. Or, more precisely, attempted to. The ball, in the way balls sometimes do, was not quite where Jordan’s foot ended up. What his boot did find, with what the referee generously recorded as accidental, was the very player who had so recently introduced his hand to Jordan’s face, leading to a flash of yellow from the ref. Geoff finished with four conversions from seven – a return that invites the mildest of scrutiny but ultimately earns a nod; the important work, after all, had already been done long before the final whistle.

Final score: Hammersmith & Fulham 2s 45 – 10 Worthing Raiders ‘A’ Tries: Ben Hibberd, Max Dugdale, Chris Thompson (2), Sam Nursey, Sam Herron, Gregor Watson

Conversions: Geoff Mahon (4/7) Man of the Match: Oscar Newcombe.

Worthing will go home and regroup. They’ll find reasons and make adjustments, as sides do. But on this particular Saturday, in this particular postcode, they ran into a Hammers side that was in no mood for diplomacy – and even less mood for having their faces used as hand-off practice.

The 2s have made their statement. The season – and Worthing’s medical staff – is listening.