Under a louring, malicious sky that was always on the cusp of a deluge, South came away from a potentially awkward slip-date fixture with a victory that was not entirely straightforward at any stage. Already weakened in midfield and attack by the absence of Chris Baker (nuptial duty in Dorset), Al Sinclair (secondment to Scotland) and Keith Hewitt (trip to Tromsø), South were further emasculated when what passes for a rail operator in these parts failed to secure Chris Massey a passage to Cambridge in time for the meet, thus leaving the minimum complement to make the arduous journey across the Fens.

With the previous game running late and a penetrating chill in the air, the inaptly-named warm-up was necessarily brief and South were soon into their stride, with Alex Pooles and Rob Garrett swiftly working the ball to the right, where Russell Johnson and Simon Ta made the first of their many incursions, exploiting what proved to be a continuing weakness on the Boston left flank. It was from this sector that Matt Readman, fed by Richard Morgan, also broke into the D but on both of these occasions the hard-worked Boston defence proved equal to the challenge. Skipper-for-the-day Eliot Read - who had sensibly elected not to try and match the Big Beast for decibel level or expletive count in his pre-game team talk - then got Johnson going up the wing again in a move that led to South's first short after seven minutes. After a crisp stop by Read and a slip to the right from "Strictly Come Hitting" winner Jim Thorpe, the ball made its way round several sticks in the D before encountering the vastly experienced Rob Barton, who seized his opportunity in time-honoured fashion to reverse home into the bottom left corner.

Boston made their first real attack after South's second penalty corner a couple of minutes later, but the omnipresent Thorpe, apparently commanding several areas of the field at once, disarmed the enemy with ease. Boston were not so easily shaken off, however, and a series of keen thrusts exposed some flaws in South’s marking. Three goes were needed to get rid of a good cross from the right before Boston won a short corner and put in a good, clean strike. Steve Parker, hitherto uninvolved and seriously wondering whether he should have covered himself in goose fat, was glad of the action and made a confident diving save. A repeat effort from Boston immediately afterwards was deflected away and the game reverted to the outfield, with Readman, Johnson and Ta forming an impressive sartorial phalanx up the right wing, the green shirts elegantly counterpointed by those black-sleeved items of technical sporting apparel that no self-respecting hockey dandy should be seen without these days.

Two further shorts for South left no impression on the scoreline and it seemed the best chance of further inroads lay with the Garrett-Johnson-Ta axis, whose fleetness of foot and hunger for the ball perhaps deserved more tangible reward. Undaunted by the repeated grilling down their left, Boston attacked whenever they could and drew a well-timed sliding clearance from Parker as a lone striker hared in hard. This turned out to be nearly as long as a Torvill and Dean finale thanks to the alluvial deposits in the bottom corner, which rendered all but the most certain footwork hazardous.

Chris Graveling put in a couple of shifty moves up front to complement his perennially clairvoyant tackling further back, while both Barton and Pooles worked assiduously beyond the Boston twenty-five to try and manufacture an advantage. After Parker had tipped a hit over the bar, South applied the pressure, with Ta devilling in the corners and Garrett unwinding himself brilliantly from a cul-de-sac to send Read into the D, where South won their fifth short. A slip to Garrett was intercepted on the way back into the danger area and, though Thorpe remustered by instigating a string of textbook triangles, Boston had no intention of giving in and a dangerous break by their right-winger, who held off two men and left Graveling mired in the quicksand when a sudden vortex robbed him of his feet, was smothered only with difficulty.

Graveling quickly regained his equilibrium, however, authoring a superb pitch-length move involving Johnson, Barton and Garrett that won South another short. This time, a good opportunity to double the lead was spurned when a firm strike from Read, set up by a handbrake turn from Garrett, was deflected over the bar by a South stick as two men waited unmarked at the left post. After Barton had made further progress through choppy waters with his bustling all-action style, the pantomime season opened as the Boston strikers repeatedly sneaked past their markers in the circle and Dame Readman took his cue for a chorus of "He's behind you!"s. Parker beat out a hard drive from an unmarked man at top D ("Oh yes he did!") before another forward outrageously free in front was singled out for a defence-splitting pass. Did he score? All together now, boys and girls - "Oh no he didn't!", the ball cannoning off his ankle instead. But the punch-line was not long in coming as a further attack saw Parker make an initial stop before having the ball squirted underneath him and into the net for the equaliser – result: rouge on face all round. With two minutes left to go in the half, the increasingly influential Ta made an excellent break up the right to win a seventh short but the shot from Thorpe was blocked by the Boston keeper’s orange kickers, rapidly becoming the most visible items on an increasingly Stygian afternoon.

Whatever fortifying words were offered at the break clearly had an instant effect as, within the first two minutes, a crossed hit from the left was expertly deflected upwards and into the top right corner by a justifiably elated Pooles. Almost immediately afterwards, Readman, having revelled in his Cassandra role before half-time, collected a long pass from Graveling and put Johnson away up the wing. The latter, scooting adroitly over the mudflats and hounding the defenders with his speed, delivered the perfect cross to the top of the D, where Thorpe – as if he’d been waiting there all his life – applied the light to the blue touchpaper and watched in awe as the rocket exploded into the goal. The resulting celebration was remarkably muted all things considered – a drum-major's skyward hurl of the stick being regarded as safest since a wing-waggling aeroplane run with shirt off in the prevailing temperature would have led to terminal hypothermia.

With this cushion, South relaxed a little, which was a double-edged sword as, although they started to move the ball around faster, the emphasis shifted a little too much to attack and marking at the rear became sloppy. Although Morgan classically parsed his way out of a bit of bother involving two attackers in the left corner, a Tartarus opened up behind him, with a lone Boston striker having acres of space to connect with an arrow-straight through ball. Luckily, he missed, perhaps failing to realise how much time he had, but South did not heed the warning and it was nearly woe, woe and thrice woe when a similar pass successfully reached an open man on the penalty spot. Parker, though, had instantly read the play and was waiting on the doorstep to bring off a crucial point-blank save that preserved the two-goal lead.

This margin started to look particularly reassuring when Pooles, shortly after firing wide from a neat pass by Ta, was caught in the face and suffered a nasty cut to the cheekbone. He was unable to resume after a five-minute break and South, thanks (again) to One ("one") Railway (railway??) depriving them of a twelfth man, were forced to play the remaining twenty minutes short-handed. The deficit may paradoxically have had a beneficial effect, however, as it seemed to stiffen defensive resolve and focus priorities.

Readman grimly held onto the ball while back-pedalling twenty yards, eventually negotiating an escape while, at the far end, Graveling shot just wide after Johnson had capitalised on Garrett’s searching pass with another finely-weighted cross. Readman then took an awkward aerial with aplomb before a Boston surge was out-accelerated by the ball. Garrett and Ta combined for further trickery in the top left, Thorpe rolled out his heavy ordnance in defence and Morgan metamorphosed a further home attack into counter-insurgence as Barton fed Johnson for a fast, direct approach from which he was just persuaded off course at the last minute.

Though South dominated this phase of the game in both defence and attack, with Thorpe creaming away two assured first-time clearances and Garrett stealing through the back line despite close attention from the law, Boston never ceased to encourage one another and, with three minutes to go, won another short whose conversion would have set butterflies going in Brazil (or wherever). Indeed, they managed a successful slip but Boston's young striker, despite winning elbow-room for a reverse shot, sent the product wide, leaving South to sail calmly into port with the booty safe. At the same time, the clouds delivered on their long-held promise and both teams escaped gratefully to the excellent clubhouse and an equally excellent Tea Party.

"Banana-skin" was the word that immediately sprang to mind in advance of this fixture but South, despite some headless moments, managed to keep their balance and avoid an embarrassing slip-up. Though Boston have had a difficult time before Christmas, they seemed to be in remarkably good spirits and gave South a run for their money throughout. The victory gave South a three-game winning streak going into the break and means they are now four points behind second-placed March. The 2009 opener against Wisbech, traditionally awkward opponents, will set the tone for the second half of the campaign, when South will need to utilise all their resources to make an assault on that second promotion spot.