A Saturday afternoon trip to the darkest depths of southwest London is never ideal. The weather was wet and cold, and the 20 men representing the Grasshoppers on this grey day were large, intimidating forms enthusiastically warming up under the opposite posts. The skinny frames of the brave Hampstead warriors shivered in the damp, unsuccessfully practicing handling drills. Captain O'Connor and Coach Lee watched on concerned. Yet a tactical retreat to the warmth of the changing room lifted the spirits of our fine Heathens, and delicious gummy sweets provided much need energy. Our heroes returned to the battlefield and the whistle blew.

A brief attack was soon halted by an inevitable knock-on. The pack settled in for the scrum with a twinge of concern. A strong second row in Bayle and Gillham was a good foundation, but the brave and experienced Dearling had stepped up to fill in at hooker, a position he claimed never to have played in 98 years of rugby. Yet there was no need for unease. Despite being significantly lighter than the opposition pack, the almighty Hampstead immediately drove the Grasshopper pack off of the ball, a dominance that continued uninterrupted for the rest of the game.

Chaotic line-outs for both sides allowed Hampstead to work their way up the field. A ruck five metres from the try-line saw the ball pop out uncontrolled. The always opportunistic Palmer pounced upon it and nipped in for the score. Bayle stepped up and sliced the first conversion wide, and immediately looked to Dilnott-Cooper who nodded wisely. He would take this responsibility from now.

The Grasshoppers soon levelled the score using their bulk, but the Hampstead heads refused to drop. Palyakov tackled hard and tried to knock himself out in the process, forcing Coach Lee to come out of retirement and take the No 8 shirt. Big carries from the forwards created a strong platform. Simpson embraced his role as a human-wreckingball supported constantly by Miles. Kaschula truly embraced his conversion from 9 to 6 and tackled like a demon. Yet the conditions made things hard for O'Connor's backs. Slippery ball forced knock-on after knock-on, but thanks to the dominant scrum, Hampstead stayed in the game.

Yet half-time came, and our heroes were 10-5 down. Captain O'Connor gave a rousing speech, and the Heathens returned to the pitch determined to take this victory. A big hit from Keene on the wing forced a maul and with great strength he held the ball up forcing a scrum. Hampstead took the opportunity and Earnshaw and O'Connor led the charge up the pitch. Yet Grasshoppers defended well and secured the ball in their own 22. Yet a silly knock-on gave Hampstead a 10 metre scrum. The Colonel could smell blood. He had already won two penalties dominating his opposition number, but his experience and instinct told him, no, this was not the time. A clean ball in from Palmer. A smooth hook from Dearling. The ball bounced around beneath Gillham and the green but enthusiastic Silver, and the Hampstead pack started to move. Slowly and steadily forward. Coach Lee had returned to retirement and watched nervously from the side-lines as the ball settled beneath Polyakov who had miraculously recovered from his injury, but the Grasshopper pack started to crumble. Confidently, the final few metres were covered and Polyakov dropped on the ball. The scores were level.

Yet the kick was not easy. Wide of the posts, Dilnott-Cooper stood, a lone figure. The wind rustled his hair, and as he began his approached, the elements turned on him. An almighty gust stormed the pitch, as his foot connected with the ball. It sailed low and hard, curving through the wind and between the posts.

With 20 minutes to go, Hampstead did their best to throw the game away. Panicking behind their own posts they gave away another try, yet the Grasshopper's kicker was having a shocker, and missed his third conversion. With 5 minutes to go, the Hampstead backs took the play from their own 22 to the opposition's. A dart from Earnshaw, strong running from O'Connor. Simo supported and used his strength to burst through. Earnshaw found himself with the ball again. But what was this? A cry of support from the left. He glanced and to his surprise, Coach Lee! Once again out of retirement (mainly because he got chilly watching). A crash ball. At last, the forwards arrived. A ruck formed, once again 10 metres from the try line. Victory was in sight. In desperation, the Grasshoppers tried to kill the ball, but the ref was on point. A penalty. Before captain O'Connor could even consider taking the points, Dilnott-Cooper responded to a voice inside of him. A voice that had not been heard for many years, since the great victory of 2012 against thrice Heineken Cup Winners Wasps. The voice of the Gods of Rugby, which oddly had an Irish twang, saying 'Go my child. Now is the time.' Dilnott-Cooper tapped the ball against his boot, and ran. First through a centre, then another. One final Grasshopper managed to grab hold, but it was too late, Hampstead's 10 had crossed the try line with an almighty bellow that sounded uncannily like a wounded Alsatian.

The conversion was scored, and 4 points ahead, O'Connor demanded to know how long was left. 40 seconds. The quick kick-off went straight to Coach Lee, and the forwards proceeded to wind the clock down. Pick-up after pick-up, and soon there were no forwards left to be found. Palmer sent the ball back to Dilnott-Cooper, who booted the ball straight into the waiting gut of the Colonel. A penalty to Grasshoppers. A quick tap and go and there they were, on the attack, 15 metres from scoring, the defence scrambled. But they ventured too near the touch-line and, with a four man over-lap begging, Earnshaw bundled the man into touch. Hampstead let out a well-deserved cheer, whilst Dilnott-Cooper heard an Irish lilt in his ear: 'It's your turn now, tell them about the try, tell anyone who will listen...'

Man of the Match: Ryan Simpson. Flawless scrummaging, constant carries, massive tackles.

Honourable mentions: So many who deserve it. Dearling for stepping-up to hooker, Colonel for great scrum work, Earnshaw for work rate and Kaschula for some almighty tackles

Dick of the day: Dilnott-Cooper for kicking the ball into the Colonel when he only had to make touch!