My housemate plays rugby league (or RUGBEH LEEG as it should properly be called), and yesterday came down to breakfast in stash trackies, vest and hoody. Presumably if you cut him in half the letters OURLFC would also be written through him like a stick of rock. I can hardly claim to be blameless in this. Somewhere at home lies – unworn, I hasten to add – a purchase of such stash-hungry, narcissistic proportions it makes an ‘Oxford University’ hoody look like the kind of thing you could wear to a rough local on a Friday night: a bright red, New College Rugby wife beater, complete with name and number. The shame.

So why the kit obsession? When the England rugby team stepped out to national puzzlement in their new anthracite – or grey as it used to be called – kit, clearly they were thinking more about Christmas shirt sales than any desire to pander to a presumably non-existent audience watching in black and white. In the end, it all boils down to money. When they were taking a break from building Stonehenge – which I’m guessing was often, those stones are bloody massive – those prehistoric builders would have had to settle for shirts and skins whilst they kicked around a sheep’s skull or whatever they did back then. But they were cavemen, and didn’t have any money or printing or anything. Now we have money we may as well progress a level and wear that monogrammed beanie hat, even if it is summer. I mean what’s the point in slogging down to Iffley three times a week if you can’t command natural respect for your sporting prowess when buying your weekly supply of crew-date wine in Tescos (3 for £10, freshers – nothing gets girls more interested than a man who likes to splash out on them), frankly, what would be the point? It’s not like your average footballer wants to spend his whole life doing keepy-uppies in the fruit and veg aisle. No, that would be ridiculous. Stash is effortless. Not only does it have an elasticated waistband, it nonchalantly says yes, I’m better than you, and if you touch that last bottle of Merlot I’m going to cut you, or at least black board your name at Vinnie’s forever.

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St Hilda’s has always enjoyed a reputation as an extroverted college. Their ‘work hard, play hard’ ethos is one of the main facets of college life that is emphasised to potential applicants, but how much did this change with the decision to admit men from October 2008? Over half of St Hilda’s undergraduates questioned in 2006 believed that accepting a mixed cohort would be a mistake, but have boys adversely affected the college? Hilda’s, unsurprisingly, has traditionally enjoyed a strong reputation in women’s sport, has this been diminished over the last two years? And finally, how are those pioneering males getting on? Is their participation in sport hindered by their limited numbers?
Fortunately, it seems that sporting life has, if anything, benefitted from the acceptance of men. The men themselves, benefitting no doubt from camaraderie and stoicism in the face of adversity, have excelled in almost every sport. Will Pembroke, JCR Sports Rep, told Cherwell that at times it can be frustrating playing for St Hilda’s. Despite winning their football division without dropping a point, Pembroke remarked on the struggle to get enough players for all the various teams and his annoyance at forfeiting matches, even against teams which Hilda’s were sure to beat. He went on to add that, in his opinion, the reputation of St Hilda’s as a all-females college, may have a negative impact on prospective applicants as they believe the college has no male sports teams.

When quizzed on the affect of men on the performance of the women’s teams, the answers were both uniform and positive. Despite the reduction of the pool from which to select female athletes and the slide of the college’s women’s 1st VIII six places down the women’s divisions in the last two Summer Eights, all those questioned believed that having men at the college had increased sporting participation. Indeed, Will Pembroke, men’s 1st XI captain, is adamant in his belief that the capacity to share equipment and coaching has made both men’s and women’s teams stronger. The reason behind the decision of those in charge at St Hilda’s to go mixed was to try and restore a college they thought was flagging in comparison to its rivals. If this was their aim then, in sporting terms at least, it seems they have been largely successful.

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Monday Night Rugby

Nothing guarantees attendance at an event like value for money, which explains why Iffley Road saw an almost packed house for the game with Wasps last week. As the Aviva Premiership grinds on with an at times crushing monotony – two matches last weekend were decided solely by penalty kicks at goal – Blues games on Mondays are a free-flowing, high-scoring spectacle with £1 drinks thrown in for good measure. What’s not to love?

Merton/Mansfield

If the best things come in small packages, nowhere has this been truer than on Oxford’s football fields these first two weeks of the season. Carrying on their run of form from last year, Merton/Mansfield – not exactly two colleges that would spring to mind if you were asked for sporting powerhouses – are top of the league after winning their first two matches. A thumping 3 – 0 win over Teddy Hall in first week was followed up by an equally emphatic victory over Hugh’s this, making them an early contender for the title.

Relegation Dogfight

Walking

One of the common facts that are banded about around Oxford is that you can get from St John’s College, Oxford to its namesake in Cambridge only walking on land owned by the two colleges. If this is true then presumably their Oxford sports ground marks the halfway point where above-averagely enthusiastic testers of Oxbridge legends can have a break before continuing their journey. I don’t care if it has under-floor heating, why is it so bloody far away?

The Blues

A thumping loss to Wasps at rugby, a defeat by Brookes in a football friendly, and the most undergraduates ever selected for the OUBC squad with only one returning Blue. It hasn’t been a great start to the season for the elite of Oxford sport. Meanwhile in Cambridge their Blues also lost to London Irish. However this was only by 12 points, and against a team that contained occasional England Fly-half Shane Geraghty. Their boat club – whilst also having a healthy dash of undergraduate talent – has four returning Blues and a medallist from the under 23 world championships. Obviously this doesn’t take into account the fact that Cambridge are our natural inferiors, but still, I’m getting a bit worried. I only like playing up to the idea of the Varsity grudge when we win.

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Those who didn’t spend their noughth week valiantly attempting to destroy their short-term memory might also recall that the match had to be played behind closed doors as large numbers Brookes students were planning to crash the game. As it transpired, Iffley’s gates were closed but they still came, sitting on the fence on Iffley Road and watching from there.

The Blues more used to playing in front of an assembled group of WAGS and hangers-on are probably appreciative of all the support they can get, and the lengths that these Brookes students were prepared to go to in order to watch the game reveals something startling: the one-way Oxford rivalry.

While our principal rivals will always be Cambridge, it seems our nearest geographical neighbours are cultivating a rivalry of their own. Whether this stems from an inferiority complex or the prospect of a Varsity trip to Reading seeming particularly unappealing, this author would not like to say. One thing is for sure though: feelings aren’t mutual.

Oxford Brookes’ relationship with its older neighbour is perhaps best likened to a schoolboy crush on the stunning girl in sixth form: cute, but ultimately misguided. The fact of the matter is that no matter how many fans they send down to Iffley in pink T-shirts for the rugby, the sentiment won’t be reciprocated. You won’t find Oxford University students chanting against Brookes, nor will you find them revelling in any sporting victories. In fact I would go as far to say that it’s totally the opposite from our perspective. Most students I have spoken to like Brookes. Those who bother to venture beyond the Cowley Roundabout find a social scene where the girls are pretty, the guys aren’t dull and the venues are both cheaper and bigger than the crushing monotony that is the Oxford clubbing scene. Maybe we should work harder to make them like us? Maybe we should stop arrogantly dismissing this rivalry, start a turf war and invade Milano. Or perhaps we should just let them hate us: it’s always nice to be wanted.

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As I write this, teams across Oxford are not only gearing up for their first match of the season, but also for the yearly ritual of initiating their new freshers. This arrangement is given extra gravitas by the fact that getting in to your college team of choice is such a momentous achievement that it is almost inconceivable that there would not be some sort of ceremony to accompany it.

Naturally there is some variance in initiations. With a decanal summons and even, in some ‘memorable’ instances, the national press waiting in the wings if things get out of hand, the more extreme examples have been toned down in recent years. Nevertheless, initiations do persist and, at their most ebullient, throw up enough stories that require the use of the words ‘lad’, ‘chat’ and ‘banter’ to make you think you were at Teddy Hall for dinner. Although having said that, if you were at Teddy Hall, there would be no way you could get a copy of this, or indeed any other, newspaper to find that out. A brief scratch at the surface of initiations reveal a tale of challenges, casual nudity (with bonus points if it occurs in public) and drinking which can – naturally – lead to chunder, usually after a failed if enthusiastic attempt to ‘see off’ that pint Guiness and Baileys.

Most captains recognise this kind of ceremony isn’t for everyone, and react to this either by replacing initiations with a team dinner or, more usually, by providing for a guilt free opt out, leaving only those who desire ritual humiliation to be subject to it. So if you’ve found yourself a week into Oxford without the suitable notoriety to stand out from the crowd of ubiquitous freshers, then perhaps initiations can be the format to achieve your goals. After all, there is no surer way for people to know your name than for them to associate it with a funny and slightly degrading story.

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