2017/18, Semis & Grand Final - Three-In-One

Its been two months since I last wrote anything here, which, as this is a review blog designed to be devoured in the immediate aftermath of the content discussed, might mean it seems pointless to you for me to even bother at this late stage. But I am like the fabled tortoise, and I will make it to the end no matter how long it takes me. Even if in this case the hare has actually over taken me, despite its extensive napping. Or maybe I am the hare, in which case the metaphor doesn’t need changing at all, and have just been dozing away for weeks on end, which is probably a more apt application of the story.

Anyway, I’ll stop being so Aesop-py and get down to business shall I? (although of course if I can think of a way to link the hare and the tortoise to the remaining teams then you bet your bottom dollar I would). When I left at the end of the quarter final stages to collapse into a dark world consisting entirely of lecture slides, coffee, and microwavable quorn cottage pies we had four teams still standing. St John’s Cambridge and Edinburgh, who faced off in the first semi final, and Newcastle and Merton, Oxford, who battled it out in the second.

A good question at this point would be how dedicated I am to the cause. Like am I going to rewatch all three episodes and take copious notes like I would (ideally) usually do, or am I just going to skim watch the YouTube bootlegs (do they count as bootlegs? It sounds more rock ‘n’ roll to call them that but I’m not sure its on the same level as a dude in a duffel coat smuggling a microphone into an R.E.M gig (I presume thats how they did it back in the day)). I’m probably going to skim-watch the bootlegs to tell you the truth, but maybe I’ll get super into it. Lets go!

Edinburgh had squeezed through three matches in qualification for this stage, before a breezy 195-60 victory over Bristol confirmed their place, whereas St John’s had razed their way through the first two rounds before coming close to faltering in the quarter finals. Almost as if they’d taken a nap under a tree during those matches…

They’d clearly woken up in time for this semi final however, and Rosie McKeown, undisputed star of the series so far, got the Cambridge quartet off to the perfect start with a hat-trick on the bonuses a lovely supplement. Edinburgh seem to have forgotten how the fable goes, and, even though it is they who have been the slow starters in this competition, they have chosen this moment to get a spot of shut eye. St John’s keep rattling off the starters and stop only five points short of a 100-nil lead when Edinburgh captain Carson wakes up and buzzes ‘Cosi Fan Tutte’ for their first ten pointer.

Heaton-Armstrong gets a second for Auld Reekie and for the briefest of moments I harbour hopes of an outrageous comeback, but Cambridge aren’t ones for fairy tales and stamp out the beginnings of this fiery renaissance (I’ve just checked and it appears that Cosi Fan Tutte wasn’t actually written during the renaissance, which means this bit of wordplay loses a bit of its factual lustre, but if you can manage to ignore that I think its still alright).

St John’s continued to dance on the graves of the Edinburgh foursome until the gong sounded with a resounding 210 points between the sides. A fearsome performance from the Cambridge side, but well done to my folks on making a second semi final in as many years - the questions just didn’t fall your way on the day.

St John’s, Cambridge 270 - 60 Edinburgh

Proving that I can and will flog a dead tortoise until my metaphors make sense, Newcastle started the tournament even more slowly than Edinburgh, with a win in the lowest scoring match for a decade in the first round (170-40 over Sheffield Hallam). They then, I presume, transmogrified into the hare and spanked an impressive Southampton team 215-130 in the second round, dumbfounding their critics, including myself. Powerful victories over Bristol and Fitzwilliam, Cambridge completed their route to this stage, with only a narrow defeat to now-finalists St John’s further blemishing their record. Merton, meanwhile, have yet to score less than 210 points and have looked utterly imperious, so their regular hare would have to choose now to nap, while Newcastle’s transmogrified hare would have to keep racing, for the Northerners to stay in the running.

Merton’s resident Robert Webb impersonator Peplow took the first two starters to give them the early lead, but Newcastle got off the mark quicker than Edinburgh, keeping them in the contest. For a while they plugged away admirably, held at bay by Wiberg, who was acting like an elder sibling with an outstretched arm on the younger siblings head, maintaining the distance between the two, while the younger one scrambled desperately to touch base. This is how we found ourselves at the halfway stage, with around 30 points the gap.

Merton had looked comfortable up until this point, although they must have known that if something were to knock Wiberg’s grip they would have been overrun by an excitable opposition, so captain Woodland decided that enough was enough. It was time to knock the younger sibling out with a swift blow to the head, and she did just this, leaving her team to walk safely away into an insurmountable lead.

Newcastle didn’t give up the fight, and fell over into the hundreds despite an excess of penalised buzzes, and must be commended for their improvement and scalps throughout the tournament.

Merton, Oxford 215 - 110 Newcastle

So here we are, the Grand Final. Its only taken an extra two months and a tortured extended metaphor to get us here, but we are here nonetheless. The fifth consecutive Oxbridge final, but one undeniably contested by two worthy teams, and even with the two best buzzers of the year, McKeown and Peplow, representing opposite sides, this has been a series dominated by excellent team performances rather than last series’ virtuoso-heaviness.

Most pundits had this one as too close to call going in, so it promised to be an intriguing affair. You all know the rules by now, so here’s your first starter for ten…

I’m not going to bother typing the actual question, because it would require maybe a full minute of transcription, but after listening carefully to several clues, it was Peplow who reached down calmly and pressed his buzzer, speaking ‘Lord Reith, in his soft, ‘Shipping-Forecast-read-as-if-it-was-a-spoken-word-lullaby’ of a voice, to the admiration of the audience. 10-0 Merton.

Two more starters, these from Woodland followed, and then a bonus set on the Shipping Forecast (which I swear I didn’t remember when I paused the video on ‘Lord Reith’ to type the above paragraph) which put them fifty five clear. St John’s finally got on the board, but couldn’t convert any of their conferring. 55-10 Merton.

It was St John’s turn to enjoy a streak now though, and through a combination of McKeown’s brilliance, and some dodgy negging from Merton, they now found themselves ahead. 55-45 St John’s.

With a remarkably few bonus questions being taken by either side, the scores stayed low, and the gap between the sides (now commanded by St John’s) remained decidedly overturn-able if a full bonus set could be snagged. With three questions left there were only thirty points in it. If Merton could nab two of these they’d have every chance. But Rosie McKeown didn’t fancy giving them any chance, let alone every chance, and snaffled the next two to put the match beyond Oxford.

Woodland dragged her team to the 100 point mark, but it was too little too late, and after a year in the halls of Balliol College, the trophy would be returning to Cambridge for the fourth time in five years.

Grand Final: St John’s, Cambridge 145 - 100 Merton, Oxford

Quite a low-scoring final that, but don’t let it detract from another enjoyable series of everyone’s favourite Monday night fix of intellectual inadequacy. Commiserations to Merton, who were quite simply outplayed on the day. And congratulations to the victorious quartet of John-Clark Levin, Rosie McKeown, James Beatific-Boulderbloke and Matt Hazell - deserving winners of the fabled steel plaque (I don’t really think its a plaque either, but I don’t know what else to call it)

Post-Script

Thanks to everyone who read these reviews this year, despite my highly erratic late posting of them for the second half of the series. If I do this next year it’ll be largely down to the interactions I’ve had with y’all, and I’ll try to be more timely too. I’ll also try and throw in some more spice and variation because I so often sense myself regurgitating words and phrases for you as if you’re all owlets who subsist solely on repetition regarding University Challenge.

Thanks again, and I’ll maybe see you in July x