A (Wednes)day in the life of a blue
Eat. Sleep. Win. Repeat.
At 06:00 you wake up to the motivational beats of your customised alarm song, ‘Eye of the Tiger’.
With only enthusiasm and not a hint of fatigue, you put on every piece of stash you own and go for a quick run. You find it the best way to wake up: a run is obviously better than a sleep.
On your return you laugh at your friends eating cereal, grabbing your overnight oats from the fridge. You hear someone mock its physical appearance, but you know its nutritional value far outweighs the aesthetic. You chow down smugly.
Time to head to the bus. You take a book for the journey, fully aware that you won’t read it. But when you know you are having to miss 2 lectures and a seminar because they have inevitably been scheduled for a Wednesday because CAMBRIDGE DOESN’T CARE ABOUT SPORT, its mere presence provides a sense of comfort and reassurance.
The bus journey itself can go one of two ways. It can be comfortable (USB ports, a dreamy 2:1 ratio of seats to players) or uncomfortable (a rattling minibus, condensation on the windows and a driver who can’t follow satnav). The former environment is conducive to productivity: perhaps you can read that book after all? But the latter is only fit for pre-match rest: shut your eyes and hope to sleep.
Upon arrival you and your team swan into an unfamiliar sports centre. Crossing this threshold, you assume a collective identity: You are proud intruders, alien invaders. You are no longer just you, you are Cambridge. You feel nervous, but you look confident.
The game itself is a battle of two halves, or 4 quarters. A 60-minute frenzy of attack and defence. End to end action, goals and interceptions. There are fouls, there is blood, there is injury. Whistles blowing, umpires shouting, crowds cheering, adrenaline surging. It is tiring, you are tired. It is over. You are victorious. You always are.
And the excitement doesn’t end there.
The promise of Cindies gleams at the back of your mind.
It’s a race against time to beat the traffic home, to get to the club, and to reach the appropriate level of drunk on the way.
You’ve made it. Celebratory VK’s all-round (only the blue ones, of course).