Pembroke Wanderers Hockey Club

I must confess that for most of my life, man and boy, the joys of hockey eluded me. And they still do; it kind of seems a bit like an under 11s hurling match: low-​scoring, the ball doesn’t leave the ground — not particularly entertaining overall.
Still, never let it be said that I’m unwilling to give things a chance. So, one day in the foreign country that was 2003 (Jesus that was a long time ago), on a particularly long day-​time session in a mate’s gaff in exotic Ballsbridge, we sat on a back wall of some unfortunate’s house to watch our first hockey match.
Pembroke Wanderers are, I imagine (from my limited knowledge of such circles) fairly typical of Dublin’s hockey clubs. For one thing, they’re on the southside (you wouldn’t get away with that lark round my way), and for another they have an appropriately West Brit name: «Pembroke».
Now don’t suggest that I’m lapsing into generalisations here, but surely any young fella that didn’t have notions of West Britishness but who did want to swing a piece of wood around as a sporting pursuit would take up the native (and infinitely more entertaining, to my mind) game of hurling. An iománaíocht abú.
I digress. I have no idea who Pembroke were playing that night, what the final score was or what exactly was going on. This probably had a bit to do with our consumption of alcohol, but I imagine it was also to do with the deficiencies of hockey as a spectator sport. Anyway, we soon began to tire of our new-​found pursuit, and we dared one of the lads to run across the pitch just before the second half started. He did (shouting, «Raheeeny forevaa!» as he went), and we spent the rest of the second half congratulating him for this feat. He was not pursued or otherwise molested by any of the hockey players, despite the fact that he is small and skinny and they were armed with big sticks, so that rather confirms their status as big jessies.
After the match was over, some Kuwaiti lads came on the recently vacated pitch and started playing soccer, so we jumped down off the wall and joined them. They all had very good English, but they were extremely bad at the sport of Association Football. In spite of (or perhaps because of) our inebriated state, we were much better than them. Still and all, it was a pleasant way to round off a great day.
So, while I have no interest in the sport of hockey, Pembroke Wanderers will always retain a special place in my heart.