Holdway Cancer Challenge - 24 hour Kayak Polo.

"Could do with spending some more time in a boat..."

These words, said in an e-mail to Nonie, Heb Challenge team captain, came whizzing back through my head when I'm sat in the middle of a kayak polo pitch at 4:15am on the Saturday of a bank holiday weekend.

The idea was simple: Raise money for cancer charities, break 2 world records and have a laugh at the same time. Question is, in 24 hours of polo, is it possible to do all 3?

My weekend started well when I managed to get out of work to get the early train to Leeds, then on to Doncaster. With Sleipnir once again loaded with kayaking kit, I set off biking from Doncaster station out to Hatfield Water Park, a converted gravel pit somewhere near the M1.
Arriving 15 minutes before my first allocated playing slot, dumped my kit with my mates, bundled through registration (confusing the girlon the computer by giving her my real name. I'd apparently been registered on the network simply as Pyro...) and dashed back to get 'gimped up' (if you've seen ChillCheater kayaking kit, you'll know what I mean.)

Launching onto the water, it seemed that all was well. I watched the 6pm start of the event from the subs area, accompanied by hooter, flares and the pop of flash bulbs. Come 6:15 I was itching to get into the game, and nearly hoarse from shouting to my team mates.

I get onto the water and immediately end up straight out of my depth. there are 5 National Div.2 player on the pitch (including our goalie, putting me out of my normal position), so I stick in defence, getting stuck in and irritating the opposition as much as possible. A fast break from a sideline throw puts me right in the middle of their defensive zone.A miraclulous gap opens and our striker pops it to me for a very short shot. Goal #1 - the most I usually get in a season of normal (Yorkshire Div.2) play.

I sub off after an hour. Since a normal match is 15 minutes, the shoulders, stomach and back have had a bit of a working. I'm not rich enough to own a fibreglass polo boat so I'm stuck with my old 'plastic fantastic'. Head off to the DM 'Chillout' tent for tea and cake (and, as a bonus, Hoegaarden) and to watch whitewater DVD's.

Come 22:30 I'm back in soggy thermals and cag, getting ready for my second stint. Someone has very inconsiderately paddled off in my boat, so I have to go and steal a mates boat while she's asleep - first mistake. As I sub on I realise that the footrests are set way too short for me, and are bolted in place. "Oh well" I think "it'll be alright". Also the boat has no backband. Joyous.


Polo at 10:30pm - that's me in the subs area... 

Playing under floodlights makes a huge difference. The shadows effect your distance perception, making passing and shooting less accurate. The other team complain about playing into the lights. Just because they're losing. An old teammate starts trying to wind me up by deliberately fouling me. The ref (also an old teammate) starts winding me up by ignoring other people's fouls, but blowing up the minute I commit the slightest infraction (sounds bitter, but he was. He admitted it afterwards). Somehow I find myself on the break with a clear pitch and an open goal. A long range shot finds it's mark to double my total for the season.

I sub off after 45 minutes and have to be helped out of my boat - the short footrest and no backband has caused my lower back to seize solid. Fortunately some of the Leeds Uni girls are very good at massage (excellent in fact). I wolf some chilli down and head for my tent to get some kip. Unfortunately, that isn't going to happen - 2 other people are occupying my tent and my back is killing me. I spend a few hours lying awake and trying not to move. Eventually, I manage to doze off, at about 2:30am

At 3:15am Owen kicks me awake. We're both on for the 4:15am shift and we need to find breakfast first. Fortunately, we also find Gemma and her remarkable supply of painkillers. Ibuprofen and a fryup perks me up no end, and by 4am I feel almost human. I've also got my own boat back (you'd think one with my name printed across trhe back would be obvious as mine, wouldn't you?)

The floodlights are turned off as we paddle into the subs area, and I get the wonderful experience of watching sunrise from a boat (seen it while biking, now while boating. I love it). I sub on and stick with goalkeeping, just in case. There's 3 others from my old team on, so we work well together and keep pressing as hard as we can. Too often in the past we've all tried to play past our limits - aiming to pass too far, shooting too early, not looking where we're aiming, but somehow we all play like a dream. We look almost like we know what we're doing. I take my 3rd goal of the match with a long high shot past the captain of the Leeds Uni A Team - which I never made while at uni. I feel smug.

After another hour of play, I slope off. Supposedly my last playing shift over, I've got 1 goal in each session I played, and I'm back up to speed on my goalkeeping. The opposition keeper shakes my hand as I paddle past to leave the pitch. The atmosphere is so relaxed and friendly, yet highly competitive: Everyone wants their team to win, but it's a 24 hour game, so there's no point letting grudges and egos get in the way.

I wander back to the tents, get changed, pull myself into my sleeping bag, curl up next to a young lady and doze off.

At 9am, Revett knock on the tent door to wake me. He's got to take someone to A&E (broken hand from a nasty paddle foul) and wonders if I'd take his 10am shift. I think I have 1 set of dry thermals left so I agree. Kit up, collect my bib, get on the water and within a minute my number is called to sub on. I move onto the water with a grin on my face and the intention of 1 more goal in my mind. Somehow it comes 5 minutes later, after our other keeper is illegally kayak tackled. The break comes and 3 of us move up in formnation, sweeping through their defence like prunes through a short grandma, and a short range blast find the back of the net. I grin even more as I recognise the old York Uni keeper - my arch enemy in Div.2. I drop back to goal and play the worst 5 minutes of polo of my life, followed rapidly by the best half hour of polo of my life. For someone who's had about 2 hours sleep I feel great. I know it can't last, but this feeling of tiredness, serenity and absolute calm is wonderful, like the end of an epic bike ride.

I leave the pitch after 45 minutes. I'm holding the 'longest playing time' record, and as I pack up to go back to work, with another 6 hours still to go, my team are 20 points ahead...

Shame I missed the party, but I guess I have to work hard to be able to play hard...