But as it is getting ever harder to find suitable sports for my blog - sports which involve no effort, inconvenience, and ideally involve watching TV - I had to learn that beggars can't be choosers. And so when Ken from the Ipswich Octopush Club explained that training would be on Monday, 09:15 - 10:15pm at Crown Pool, I simply had to bite the bullet. After all, how many other sports could compete with underwater hockey on my alphabet of sports?
My best husband was his usual supportive self when I asked him to drop me off at the pool to avoid the 10 step walk from the car park to the front door. Inside, I was warmly greeted by Nathan, who kindly denied that he'd recognised me by the "deer in the headlights" expression I was sporting for the occasion.
Minutes later I found myself sitting shivering by the poolside, realising that this time I might truly have outdone my own extemporaneousness (I googled that). I did know that it would involve water, hockey and fins.
But at no point did anybody warn me that it would involve this type of hat:
THAT is the face of one who has just realised that she truly has no clue of what is about to happen. Also one who should have guessed that underwater hockey might involve, well under water. Up to that point, I assumed that we'd all be swimming around in our fins with long sticks to push along a puck in the shallow pool.
(It is also the face of one who just realised that she might be the only female... luckily, another Lady turned up to defend the hockey - honour of womankind, because I truly let you all down, sisters).
Luckily, all the guys were true gentlemen - otherwise, having my head squashed into this latest fashion accessory, my nose squeezed into a pair of googles, elastics pulled over my forehead and hairs shoved back into the hat by damp strangers in very little clothing might have been weird.
As it stands however, the only truly questionable event was to be asked to repeatedly spit into my goggles to avoid them from steaming up. If you spend most of your working time explaining to grumpy teens that they shouldn't spit, it is slightly surreal to gather enough fluid to wipe your eye-windscreens under the watchful eye of octopushing veterans.
As with all my sporting adventures, I could not have been luckier to be surrounded by the loveliest of people. Not only did Nathan make sure that I could borrow all the necessary equipment, but both Charlie and Fritz took time out from the actual game to coach me.
After a lesson of how to put on your mask and use both legs for paddling (otherwise you end up swimming in a circle. Top tip. Remember it.), I was ready to snorkel the width of the pool. That bit, I really enjoyed.
Once I mastered the art of not drowning, it went crazy: I was instructed to dive down to the bottom of the pool. I did vaguely hear the instruction to hold my breath, but somehow managed to forget that. If you are ever instructed to hold your breath, please do so. Swallowing "end of the day" pool water was not pleasant. Even worse as with my fancy goggles I could see the kind of stuff that lives on the pool bed. Y.U.K.
With all my volunteer coaches being required for the game at one stage, I was left with clear instructions to practice further at my own pace. Dive with a stick, dive and use the stick to push the puck (but don't touch the puck, that would be a foul), dive and use the stick to flick the puck. I was fine with all of that - but not whilst simultaneously remembering not to breathe. Much water had been absorbed.
I also had the opportunity to underwater-hover and watch parts of the game. As with any hockey based game, players use a stick (approx 10cm long) to propel a puck of about 1.5 kg towards the opposite team's 3m wide aluminium or steel goal. Whilst it all looks rather frantic, I would say it definitely looks more graceful than ice- or uni hockey. But in the playing frenzy it can happen that a player gets hit on the hand by a pusher or that hands get scraped on the grouting of the pool tiles. So players wear a a rubber glove for protection.
Chatting to a number of players, there appeared to be one unanimous view of the sport: It's fun, it's good exercise, it's very sociable (I was invited to got to the pub afterwards. On a school night. After 10pm. Crazyness!).
So should you push yourself (mwhahahahah) to try underwater hockey?
1. Errr yah! It really was good fun, and good exercise, and time just flew by so much quicker than if you have to swim length after length.
2. If you want to be fully equipped, you'll need a good quality & good coverage swimsuit, fins, mask, snorkel, glove, pusher.... maybe borrow the equipment for your first go.
3. If you do want to have a good first go, I'd recommend becoming a confident snorkeler first. I didn't get the chance to join the game because I simply wouldn't have managed to join in and stay alive, and I definitely wish that I had practised that first to make the most of my first go.
4. There were players of all sizes, shapes, and ages - and training was after pool opening hours, making the whole swimsuit business slightly more bearable.
5. Whilst it did at times look like unorganised chaos, I was assured that there are clear rules and strategies. The teams consist of of 6 players each plus substitutes, and each player has a position to hold.
6. Unfortunately, due to it mainly being underwater, it's not a particularly spectator friendly sport - but I have checked it out on youtube after the deed,so if you are interested, look it up. Or, you know, just turn up clueless, you'll survive.
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