Millfield School: Smells Like Team Spirit
Millfield Hockey Girls First XI 1989/90

Front Row L-R: Harriet Beatty, Charlotte Cornwallis, Kerry Major (Captain), Tracy Gates, Nikki Smith, Andi Grant (vice captain)
Photo taken Friday 16th March 1990 at National School Championships, Ealing
From the moment Millfield Hockey Girls 1st XI stepped out onto the astroturf together in the September of 1989, a special kind of magic took hold. By the end of the season, that magical holy grail of human resources – team spirit – had transformed into the ultimate trophy in the land: the Schools National Championships.
With the benefit of that beautiful creature hindsight, it can’t have been easy for Miss Harkness to guide us to victory in six months. We were a disparate set of young women thrown together suddenly by life. At 16, I was living away from home for the first time swimming in a sea of hormones, while desperately trying to figure out a new social group as well as studying for my A-Levels. Fortunately for me, being good at sport was a passport through this confusing teenage terrain.
Here, I belonged
Captain Kerry ‘Maj’ Major led the team spiritually with her take no prisoners leadership style, while ferocious centre right forward Charlotte Cornwallis (a descendent of General Cornwallis) was our physical spearhead. Time and time again, panther-like Charlotte would pounce on the ball in the circle, wind up her stick with military precision and strike the ball hard. SLAP! BANG! WALLOP! GOAAAAAAAL! Every Wednesday and Saturday afternoon across the south west of England backboards shuddered in fear.
My school friend Tracy Gates (niece of footballer Eric Gates) held us all together like a magnet in the centre of the pitch. When she was on the ball we all moved in unison like clockwork around her. One tactic employed was called the switch. Whenever Tracy shouted ‘platform’ the ball would go backwards and zip around the back four left to right or vice versa to wrongfoot the opposition, meanwhile the forwards realigned accordingly, received the switched ball and executed yet another penetrating surprise attack. In that single move, the telepathic synchronicity of the team was a small slice of sporting heaven. Here, I belonged. Hence the blog.
The rising tide of success was reaching its peak
The rising tide of success on the pitch was reaching its peak as the day of the National Championships arrived. On the surface, to a glancing eye, we appeared to be the quintessential English jolly hockey stick types. Underneath we were a competitive machine feeding hungrily on the raw meat of success. The youngest player was 4th year Claire Mason; the person who most embodied our school motto ‘Molire Molendo’ – to win by striving – was upper sixth Head Girl Keri Glenday. Maj had a bad arm but still played on, vice captain Andi Grant ran her legs down to the ground. For my part, I cut a fluid figure with my slick reverse stick skills going up and down up and down the left wing, setting up and scoring a fair few goals myself.
One of my most vivid memories is just before the crucial third game against the North. Miss Harkness had given her pep talk. ‘Gather round,’ urged Maj as she put her uninjured arm into the centre of the group. I put my hand on top of hers, then Andi’s hand landed on top of mine. Then another and another and another until each of us had one arm reaching into the circle. The pile of hands became the hubcap, the arms the spindles on a human cartwheel. It felt like we were standing on a volcano. Everything in life which had existed up to that point ended at the pitch’s edge. This oblong of green was all I knew, the game was finite, there were lines and limits, a white box 100 by 60 yards, 70 minutes, 22 players, two goals, and one small rock hard plastic ball with a circumference of 23cm that if hit wrong could zoom through the air at 80mph and kill you if it hits you in the head. A low growl rushed up from my stomach and flew out of my mouth to join all the other roars erupting around me as we flung our hands high into the air. And someone next to me, Andi I think, said something I have never forgotten. ‘If we win now,’ she said, ‘the memories will last forever.’
Interestingly those words have been partially true, sure time has corroded my most of my memories. For instance I can‘t recall the second goal in the hat-trick I scored to help us win outright in that game against the North, nor the venue, nor the other teams, nor the results of the four games we played in a round robin against the other regions – practically the whole meat and bones of the day! Yet magically other memories and inexplicable minor details persist, nay, burn brighter the more Dame Memory turns them over in her ageing hands: the sticky shinpads, the saliva sodden gumshield, the wet-with-sweat bandana, my Mum, Dad and Grandad on the sideline supporting, singing Swing Low Sweet Chariot on the coach on the way back at the tops of our lungs and being graciously congratulated by Charlotte the then England centre forward for my hatrick.

If you can find it in your hearts, please forgive me for being sentimental. It’s almost thirty years to the day we won the Nationals and coronavirus self-isolation has unmoored my mind far down memory lane. Earlier I hit a bump in the road and got mired in frustration unable to remember that elusive second goal, so instead I began to wonder: where are they all now? And thought it best to write it all down before the last few memories disappear. From the mists of time, I managed to dredge up that both Tracy and Charlotte played hockey for England. Charlotte also became the Real Tennis World Champion. Maj and I met only once more, at the England university hockey trials. Becky Baines went to Oxford, Andi went to Cambridge, Becky Walker to Sandhurst and the last I heard of Keri Glenday was she could speak Mandarin. As for the rest, I hope life has been kind to their fast feet and quick hands.
And it is there we must leave these friendly ghosts with their sand-encrusted grazed knuckles and knees. It is dangerous to get stuck on the island of our youth for too long. One day I might never come back. Still as Faulkner tells us the past isn’t dead, it isn’t even the past. These memories can testify to that. Sometimes, in a much needed hour, these memories can keep the current dark storm clouds at bay and fuel the dreams of tomorrow.
Here’s what actually happened on the day. Thanks to the Old Millfieldian Facebook page, research assistant Mo McLadin for hoarding the copies of the Millfield Newspaper, Captain Kerry Major for her excellent sports report and Charlotte Cornwallis for the award pictures below.




Post Script: On the 5th November 2020 we are heading into Lockdown 2. All week this has sparked a flurry of reach out messages to old friends.
One was to Charlotte Cornwallis so I asked her what she remembered from this time.
She said, ‘My overriding memory of that day was ‘we’re the best, we know we’re the best, now we just have to prove to everyone else just how good we can be. I had immense belief personally, there was no weakness in our squad at all. I have always been immensely proud of what we achieved throughout that season, then being able to perform when it mattered most was the icing on the cake. So many people invested their time and energy in me as a player and a person at Millfield (Mr Driver, Mr Chamberlain specifically and my teammates and friends) without whom I would not have had the belief I did. This, accompanied by the determination to bring out the best in everyone at a crucial time, in my mind it made us invincible as a unit. I went to Millfield for my sixth form to be able to focus on my hockey, I wanted to play for England and staying at Cheltenham was never going to help me achieve my goal. Millfield developed my skills, my belief and my passion – and this team played a fundamental part in that. This achievement ranks up there with the best of them in my sporting history, the highlight being having your closest friends alongside you to enjoy such spoils.’
Read more sporting stories by Nikki Wordsmith, The World’s Shortest Poem by Muhammad Ali and Spot the Girl? Women’s Football and the Women’s World Cup 2023.
I’m pleased to hear that writing is playing a big part in your life.
You’ve definitely got a way with words and made me chuckle reading your post. I love the ‘suck the orange and bring on the second half ‘ philosophy. Going down the market now on the weekend to stock up!
I forget to mention that whilst you were commenting on the skills and qualities of our talented team-mates obviously you left someone out..you!
I’m sorry I can’t remember the details of the goals either but I do recall you were always a force to be reckoned with. When you took a shot, you meant it and I did always expect the ball to end up in the back of the net.
Thank you for holding your nerve and making it happen that day too x 3. We couldn’t have done it without you.
I’m good thanks, I’ve been blessed with two daughters aged 3 + 5 and can relate to the trying to get them dressed scenarios. Actually the eldest is good as she’ll get ready in the hope I’ll be pleased and allow some morning tv….weekends definitely, my only hope of a partial lie-in 😉
Tempus fugit for sure and it seems to accelerate once children are on the scene.
Unfortunately with work and family commitments my sports involvement has reduced to being a spectator. I used to spend most Saturdays watching Chelsea play football and after a match bumped into Becky Walker in the street several years ago. She was well and we had a quick catch-up in the pub. I do miss the playing environment, who knows once life hopefully becomes calmer again and schools reopen maybe I’ll try and find a vets team in the area!
Dust off the shinpads and try not to get injured! I’ll also aim to handover the baton/stick to my girls for them to hopefully create long lasting memories too.
How long did you continue to play for or are you still hurtling at defences on a weekend?
Feel free to forever call me ‘The Young One’ – I like that although half expecting someone to ask if that’s because my hair currently resembles Neil (Nigel Planer)!
Be Lucky & Be Happy.
Claire
Hello again Young One!
Send me an email to nikkiwordsmith@gmail.com and I’ll reply back there. It’ll be easier to communicate. Speak soon 🙂
OMG Young One, this message never got answered properly. Apologies.
I did blow my own trumpet a little bit in the piece. Tis true what you say though. That hat-trick of goals has been like my FA Cup final winning goal scored in extra time. The energy radiating of that fact has sustained me on and off for thirty years. The power of sport indeed. And very nice and thoughtful of you to say so.
Ah it’s a shame you’re not playing anymore. Yes get back into it, if your body will allow it. I retired from hockey aged 27. I went to play for a leading local team and could only make the thirds no matter how hard I tried. A bad back and a decade of too much fun were my chief enemies. It was sad to stop. Bit like grieving. I never picked up a hockey stick again*
Awww hand your daughters a stick early. That would be great. Are they sporty? Maybe then you could dust off the old skills and show them how quick you can run doing a dribble. This isn’t even a joke. I bought a set of Slazenger Wimbledon tennis balls for my daughter at around six months to get her into tennis LOL I think if I’m going to vicariously relive my sporting glory days I want to be drinking Pimms and eating strawberries in the box overlooking centre court while watching her win Wimbledon aged 15. She’s more of a runner actually so maybe I’ll be at in the stands at the Olympics shouting my head off instead? Fingers crossed for either of those dreams coming true.
Please whatever you do don’t get injured. It takes ages to heal these days!
Okay Young One, over and out.
*Apart from the one in the attic. A brown Sondico with the head sawn down. The first ever stick I owned.
It’s funny how similar thoughts bring you to the same page 30 years later….
A documentary about Live Aid is on tv, a song comes on that takes me back to an emotional bus journey with teammates celebrating an incredible day of sporting achievement three decades ago (we got old!). You remember Swing Low but do you also remember Summer of 69 being sung passionately and loudly as curious drivers wondered why we were so euphoric? I’m listening to it now and the day is so real in my mind like it was yesterday. One of my favourite days ever which looking back taught me so much. With Kerry holding the trophy aloft Ronnie saying ‘do you remember those freezing winter training sessions with hailstones pelting our thighs when I said the effort would be worth it’. Absolutely. I will be eternally grateful to have been given the opportunity to be part of it and to be welcomed by such an amazing group of teammates two years above me. This is why I love sport and why we should encourage and give opportunities for everyone to participate as it can bring so much joy, give people a purpose, an escape or an essential right path.
Hearing Bryan Adams on the tv inspired me to have a look on the internet and discovering your post brought back more great memories. Thank you!
Wishing you much success and happiness ahead.
From the ‘young one’ of the team!
Claire x
Hello Young One!
Lovely to hear from you! I tried to find you when I first posted the blog but to no avail. Probably because I didn’t put an i in your name. This is much better. Life does work in mysterious ways. Thank you Bryan Adams. I remember the Summer of 69 now you’ve reminded me. Good to know the old memories are still stored in there somewhere. The years drop away thinking about it. Going to listen to it next. I got my first real six string – or did we sing g-string? (Ha ha oh dear well we were teenagers.) Those were the best days of my life!
What a brilliant quote from Ronnie you’ve remembered. Good recall. She was right. (I was in touch with her when researching the blog – amazingly she is still on call at Millfield and is just the same.)
It was an important day in my life too. That winning feeling through teamwork has carried me through many a day, month and year. You’re right sport is a phenomenal force for good.
Thanks for the comment, that was really nice to read. I hope you are as well as well can be and life has treated you kind.
Jolly hockey sticks and pelting hailstones,
Nikki 🙂
PS I don’t think we’re old old, more like we’re at half-time. Suck that orange and bring on the second half!