chicks with sticks

So today I went to my first field hockey game of the Hong Kong summer league. I did some googling and found out that there were lots of different teams in HK. Some sports clubs even have A, B, C, D, and E teams! (Is it demoralizing to be fifth-string?)

The first club willing to take me was the Kowloon Cricket Club. Okay, KCC pride!!!! Here we go!!!

By the way, I haven’t picked up a field hockey stick in over five years.

That’s not the only surprise.

Summer field hockey in HK is mixed-league. As in mixed-sex. You uncultured Americans might not know this, but field hockey is a very popular men’s sport in pretty much every country except America.

I’ve never played on mixed-sex teams , so the captain explained the rules to me:

Male goals = 1 point
Female goals = 2 points (but if it's a goal on your own goal, it will only count as 1)

Let’s hear it for gender equality.

I got some gear, and I got my not-in-cardiovascular-shape ass in gear. But like everything I do, it got off to an inauspicious start.
The games are held at Happy Valley, a huge race-course and sports-club complex in the middle of mixed-use high-rise buildings. Here is a nice diagram to give you an idea.

Perhaps the thick jagged lines on the diagram give you an idea of my frustration.

Also, a sense of scale: it wasn't the kind of track that is like a track & field track. Every green block on the diagram represents one full regulation-sized turf field.

As a result, I was over 30 minutes late to the game.
Plus, nobody in Hong Kong gives good directions. (more on that later)

Asians outside of Japan don’t start things on time so it turned out OK.
I got to play quite a bit. A girl ran off the field and pointed at me to be her sub. “What position were you?” I called out.

"Right back," she replied.

Right back?! Uh…I never play defense.

A hazy image of my old coach’s disembodied head appeared before me. “Stick down” and “stay goalside.” That was all I could remember of how to play defense.

But it was OK. I even got to touch the ball a few times. The first time, a complete accident. The second time, I helped score a goal! I had the assist to the assist...to the assist.

Then it was half-time, and they decided to play me as a mid-fielder. That meant more running. Like I said, if there’s one shape I’m not in, it’s cardiovascular shape.

It wasn’t OK. I had to guard a wingman. One of the men on my team (by man, I mean a young Chinese boy) shouted some commands at me in Cantonese and pointed at the player. She was very big, very fast, and very Aryan. I got scurred.

I assume he said something like, “Don’t let her score.”

She scored on me twice.

My team was a motley crew of young boys, middle-aged mothers, and preppy half-Asian ex-university players; and one old dude who looked like Fat Bastard. I shit you not. He was the sweeper (the last line of defense).

The boys could dribble in circles around me and completely school me with their stick skills. So could the preppy halfies. The mothers weren't as fit, but they were actually really cool.

The other team was a lineup of competitive Aryan men and some women. If they weren’t German, they were British or Aussie. Honestly they all looked like David Beckham to me. And they had some Chinese men who spoke British slang with British accents. So they all sounded like David Beckham too. (Sorry, he’s the only British athlete I know.)

So the dialogue on the field went something like this:
"For fuck’s sake!"
"Did you see that play, it was brilliant."
[Canto canto canto]
Me: Ting bu dong :“I don’t understand”
[Scowl]

It was good fun. I’m going to play every week from now on.