PETA BEE gets to grips with the slippery sport of subaqua hockey

You may well snigger at the thought of jolly hockey sticks subaqua style, but then you are not faced with 16 swimmers brandishing wooden sticks in preparation for battle. I am and, believe me, this game is taken very seriously by those who play it. On a Friday evening at Acton swimming pool in west London, I am joining members of the London Ladies Octopush Club and players from local men's teams for one of their regular mixed training sessions.

My form, going into the game, is not great. I last played mixed hockey 15 years ago, but I can't remember the rules. Come to think of it, I don't think there were any. Plus I once had a bad experience with a snorkel, a spluttering incident I would rather forget.

However, according to my mentor for the evening, Peter Hollingbery from Hemel Hempstead, none of this matters. The similarities between field and underwater hockey, he says, start and end with the name.

Octopush is a game played between two teams of six players who aim to flick or push a heavy lead puck into a three-metre-wide metal trough at the opposition's end of the pool. Sticks are replaced with "pushers", handmade wooden or plastic objects of no uniform shape or size, but usually about a foot long with an angled outside edge and a slightly curved handle. One side of the pusher, which is shaped like a meat cleaver, is angled for easy flicking, and some players drill holes through the wood to lessen its resistance through the water.

Since the 1950s, when a diver at Southsea subaqua club devised the game to keep club members fit through the winter months, its popularity has spread to such an extent that there are now 90 clubs in the UK. It is currently played in 36 countries, and the British Octopush and Underwater Hockey Association is campaigning for it to be recognised as an Olympic sport.

Britain has a national league and a knockout cup for male, female and junior sides: "The big drawback is that, obviously, it is not a good game for spectators," says Sara Grenside from Chesham. She took up the game last September and has already gained selection for the UK squad. "In competition, teams are identified by either black or white caps and pushers, but even then it is difficult to spot what is going on, unless you are under the water."

For me, getting under the water in the first place is the big challenge. Hollingbery patiently takes me through the basics of snorkelling, starting with a manoeuvre in which I am told to take a deep breath, push myself down from the bar at the side of the pool, and stay below the surface for as long as I can. When I float back up again, I must blow out sharply to clear my snorkel.

My next task is to perfect the art of duck-diving, a sharp, downwards plunge to the bottom of the pool. This presents serious problems until someone suggests that I should imagine holding a 10p piece between my buttocks. (Since women are naturally more buoyant than men in water, this muscle- squeezing action apparently helps to make our bodies more streamlined, and it works.)

All that remains is for me to practise swimming along - or "finning" - with my body as close to the bottom of the pool as possible, and then trying to flick or push the 2 1/2 lb puck at the same time.

Hollingbery suggests it is now time to take part in a game, or at least to play the part of underwater spectator to the experts. For safety reasons, the local council has recently confined all Octopush games to the deep end of the pool - the result of players repeatedly colliding with steps in the shallow end. So the teams line up about 15 metres apart, and swim hell for leather towards the puck in the middle when one of the two poolside referees blows the whistle.

It looked like organised mayhem down there as players tumbled like seals, tackling, dribbling and passing the puck. According to Sue Davies, another UK squad member, the idea is to keep your body as close to the floor as possible once you have possession of the puck, so that the opposition cannot swim beneath you and swipe it from your grasp.

Timing is crucial. Players zoom to the surface for a gasp of air just as their lungs are running short of oxygen, then duck-dive back down in time to take the puck from a team- mate. And while all this is going on, you have to remember to steer clear of kicking fins, the main cause of injuries in the sport.

In competitions, the game lasts for 15 minutes each way, but tonight eight minutes is deemed enough. Since the pool is sloping, those at the shallower end are at an advantage, so it is important to swap sides at half-time.

The game finishes when the referee blows the whistle - although in competitions, a gong is sometimes used to ensure everyone underwater hears it. In spite of a recurrent bout of cramp caused by my left flipper being slightly too small, and a few choking episodes when I failed to clear the water from my snorkel, I emerge from the pool unscathed and, surprisingly, having enjoyed almost every minute.

I can see it now. In years to come, we will be asking: "Remember when they used to play hockey outside on muddy fields?"

• For more information about Octopush/ underwater hockey, send an SAE to the Development Officer, British Octopush Association, Culver Farm, Old Compton Lane, Farnham, Surrey GU9 8EJ