The 2s give up a 1st half lead. Vow vengeance.

Game week 2 saw the Hammers face an old foe: Belsize Park – our bogey team. The posh boys of Regent’s Park, all soft hands, soft pitches, and even softer chat. Revenge was on the menu, and the boys rocked up hungry.

The setting? Regent’s Park. A deceptively pretty battlefield: lush grass, lined trees, and the faint whiff of oat milk lattes drifting from nearby picnic blankets. But beneath it all: bruises, heartbreak, and a long history of great battles.

Overhead, the skies were clear but as we took our positions, a dark cloud seemed to fall over the pitch… I muttered to myself, “A storm is coming.”

Without missing a beat, our 10, Sammy Smith, replied: “We are the storm.”

And we were off.

From the off, it was a battle of attrition. Collisions echoing round the park as bone clashed with bone, belly with belly, and the early rumblings of some god-awful Belsize chat began to creep in. But it was Belsize who struck first, A couple of 50/50 decisions that gave a glimpse of how the next 80 minutes might unfold. They crashed over hard and heavy to make it 5–0 to the home side.

Hammers found themselves 5–0 down after 10 minutes, déjà vu from Horsham last week creeping in…. Was this another wobble? Could the mighty Hammers turn it around? The heavy-duty forwards, built like tanks but surprisingly nimble for men who probably think “cardio” is a fancy cheese earned a string of penalties deep in Belsize territory. Eventually, the pressure told. Classic Belsize, resorting to some dirty tactics offside and high tackles galore led to a penalty try. The home side were lucky not to see yellow, but the Hammers weren’t done yet.

Belsize 5-7 Hammers

With the heavens holding off, it was time for Sammy Smith to wave his magic wand. A lineout in the middle of the park set the stage Queen shape looked like he was gearing up for a mighty punch up the middle, but it was just a clever ruse. The ball spun wide to the man writing this very report, aka the Welsh wizard in midfield. As the Belsize 13 shot out the line like a startled meerkat, a perfectly floated pass sailed over the
overenthusiastic outside centre. Dan Hindle then sliced through a gap, showing prolific pace and skill to outpace the fullback from 20 meters out, extending the Hammers’ lead with the try of the day.

The lads wearing 9–15 rolled the dice once more. With the Bastards pack showing no mercy, we earned an attacking scrum five metres out, prime real estate for more carnage. A few thunderous carries later, Belsize strayed offside again, and with the advantage in his back pocket (alongside some miscellaneous items from the night before), up stepped our number 10: S. “Money” Smith.

Ghosting through the Belsize defence like a man chasing the last night bus, he looked certain to score, until the old legs betrayed him, caught just short of the line. But this wasn’t his first rodeo.

In true Bastards fashion, S.Money pulled off a ridiculous flick out the back with his outside arm, straight into the grateful mitts of Dan Hindle, who dotted down for his second of the day. Champagne rugby. Bastards’ rugby. Same old same old really.

Despite some….. creative interpretations of the laws at ruck time, Belsize managed to commit a series of questionable acts on their way to the try line, ugly, but effective. They clawed one back just before the break, making it 12–19 to the Hammers at halftime. The second half hung in the balance for the opening 15 minutes, both sides trading blows with nothing in it until, to our dismay, Belsize levelled the game and then took the lead with back-to-back tries, swinging momentum their way.

But the fight never left the Bastards. That said, the rugby gods were clearly in a mischievous mood. A brief cameo of chaos came courtesy of a certain loosehead prop who shall remain nameless attempting a Johan Cruyff turn on our own five-metre line, only to stack it heroically into touch. From the resulting pressure, Belsize grabbed the final score of the day.

The Bastards fought to the final whistle, chasing a losing and try bonus point with everything left in the tank. But the battle was lost. Battered and bruised, we stood bloodied but unbowed warriors who had given all on foreign soil.

As the dust settled over Regent’s Park, one truth lingered in the air like smoke from the trenches: this war is not over. The rematch looms in three weeks’ time and next time, we’re bringing the fight home.

Roll credits. Scene fades. Vengeance loading..