Salford City Reds 24 Hull Kingston Rovers 30

The term "a massive game" is regularly trotted out in the lead ups to sporting contests, but rarely has the phrase seemed so fitting. Without a doubt this one was huge. Still a point adrift at the bottom (but no longer with a game in hand), this fixture provided us with a chance to move off the relegation place for the 1st time since April, surely the lads would be bang up for this one. I know I was, I could barely sleep in the build up to the game, constantly worrying about what the outcome would mean to our future. A chance encounter with Mal Alker in the Trafford Centre 48 hours prior to kick-off eased my nerves slightly as Mal seemed a whole lot more relaxed about the game than I was. Nevertheless, I had to take a half-day for this game, quite a lot of beer was going to be needed to calm the nerves.

After a quick one in the Eccles Cross, I took a tram to the Quays to meet up with the lads in Exchange bar. A couple of decent games of killer followed as I proceeded to make the cue appear like a wand in my hand, taking the winnings gleefully (one particularly nice pot lead to Bobby proclaiming "he's rolling back the years here Yorkie")! After that we headed to the Quay House for a couple more beers & some time on the quiz machine before taking the tram back to Weaste & the short walk to the ground.

Arriving in the area with so long still to go to kick-off, we spotted Luke Dorn & Haggy in a car at the lights & attempted to gee them up a little earlier roaring encouragement across the street to
them. One thing was for certain, with thousands of KR fans expected to make the journey across, we would need to get behind the team big-style tonight. The church hall was relatively empty when we arrived & got our drinks but within 30 minutes the queue for the bar stretched out of the front door so we decided that it was time to move on. The Tavern wasn't allowing away fans in (which given the tales that were flying round of trouble in The Weaste may have been a smart move) so that seemed the obvious option.

After a quick pint in the Tav it was time to make our way into the ground. The shed was filling up nicely & so was the North Stand end with hordes of KR supporters, all of which served to exacerbate the butterflies in my belly. There were a few team changes evident with Hodgy & Highto back fit & Leuluai added to the bench despite having only arrived 2 days prior. Both sides had their moments in the early exchanges but it was the Reds who broke the deadlock with a long ball from Robbo allowing Barnett to claim his first Salford try out wide before Wilshere added a great kick.

This seemed to relax us a little & we then had a good spell of pressure culminating in Coley failing to ground the ball under pressure. As KR looked to take a quick tap, Coley caught the ball and ran back to the defensive line with it, sin-binning. It would prove costly, when he returned 10 minutes later we were 10-6 in arrears. The lively Webster made a break & fed O'Neill who despite losing his footing managed to scramble to his feet & just ground the ball. Then Coke stepped through the defence & stretched over to get the ball down.

Hull KR missed another couple of opportunities before, against the run of play, a lovely ball by Haggerty put Finnigan clear & over. Wilshere's conversion gave us the lead back which we would take into half-time with us. The feeling was that we had to play better in the 2nd half but that at least we'd looked more like scoring than the visitors when we had the ball in the red zone. Surely with all that was at stake we would step up & take the game by the scruff of the neck.

Sadly the desire in the 2nd half came from the visitors who spent most of the game camped in our half. We held out for just 5 minutes before once again Webster was the provider for O'Neill to regain the advantage. A horrendous 5 minute spell saw firstly Lennon & then Dyer go in for soft tries for the Yorkshiremen and at 28-12 we looked beaten. We got a glimmer when Robbo kicked through a napping Rovers defensive line for Moule to touch down before Cooke's penalty left us still 12 points behind. With the seconds ticking down a good break from Wilshere saw Hodgson go over out wide & with barely no time to set himself, Wilshere added a fantastic conversion to leave us back within 6 and about 1 minute left to work the miracle comeback. Sadly, from the kick-off, Korki would knock on & the dream would fall flat.

There was no shortage of tears on the Shed that night. The importance of the game was lost on no-one & walking round to the Tavern I felt physically sick. No-one was even in the mood for gallows humour after this game, just a horrible air of resignation to our fate & seeing Parky spending most of the night with his head on the bar too disconsolate to even speak, I could only feel anger & resentment at the players who had once again failed to perform when the situation demanded at the very least a bit of pride. We hadn't even summoned up that, pitiful.

Hull FC 48 Salford City Reds 26

And so we very quickly revert to type. The re-arranged game had not been visited with the same optimism as might have been if the original game had taken place 4 weeks earlier when we were still in the grip of a post-Harrison mini-revival. We'd had a couple of poor performances since then to bring us crashing back earthwards & Hull had started to show signs of re-discovering last season's form so the long journey east was made in far greater hope than expectation. The club had announced another new signing in the week with the capture of Cronulla Sharks forward Philip Leuluai (younger brother of Hull legend James & uncle of Leeds' Kylie and Wigan's Thomas) but his arrival in the UK would be a few days away so the lineup was to be the same as last weeks huge win.

The previous weekend had been rounded off nicely by Warrington doing us a favour and putting 60 on Hull KR on their own patch and the confidence factor of getting out of the mire was rising by the day. What we all wanted to see was a good performance to give us a heart for the visit of Hull KR the following Friday.

A lateish train was boarded at Piccadilly so a few of us opted for some cans on the 2 hour journey to Hull which was livened by banter about the various events in the News of the Screws. On arrival we made the short walk to the Admiral of the Humber for a couple before collaring some taxis to take us up to the pubs by the ground. Against the odds for this July it was a nice sunny day so we took our beers out onto the streets & prepared for the 80 minutes ahead. A quick beer on the concourse & then time to get behind the lads for the return to the KC of not only McRae but Saxton and Barnett.

The game started quite well for us with us managing to force an early drop-out & put some pressure on the hosts, it was to be a false dawn. Just 5 minutes in Horne fed the excellent Manu for the opening try & almost immediately the scorer made another break before feeding the youngster Hall who threw away the opportunity with the line begging. It would be a temporary reprieve as Tommy Lee broke & this time it was Horne who was on hand to finish the move before Hall broke feeding Graeme Horne whose smart pass put Manu in. Then some weak tackling failed to stop Manu before Lee kicked through for Hall to score. Another Richard Horne effort after good work by Tickle left us 26-0 down after just 25 minutes.

To our credit though, we didn't give up and with the only cheers coming from the Salford end having been those that greeted Catalans' tries against Wigan in the cup semi-final, the 1st half ended far more positively with Wilshere and Moule crossing. Early on in the 2nd half, Moule grounded Robbo's kick & we were back within 10 points at 26-16. That would be as good as it got as tries by Sing, Radford & Hall eased Hull back to a position of safety. We still showed some resistance though as Luke Dorn scored a try that was worth the admission fee alone before Finnigan was put under the sticks to reduce the arrears further. Fittingly though the impressive Hull outfit had the final word as Whiting went over at the death. All that remained then was to watch the final minutes of Catalans; stunning win on the TVs in the concourse.

With most people choosing to head home straight after the game, Paul & I headed back to The Eagle where we'd enjoyed a good laugh with a few of the locals after last year's game. Most were quite complimentary to the Reds of course with them being desperate for us to get rid of their cross-city neighbours and their kind words were of-course well received. The jukebox in the boozer was quality so we put a few quid in to enjoy some choonage before heading back on the 9pm train to Leeds where a short wait provided me with a train back home.

Salford City Reds 14 Bradford Bulls 10

Sometimes someone says something that's so corny & cliched that you feel an overwhelming urge to punch them, not pause to consider that overused hackneyed phrases may be overused for the simple fact that there's a lot of truth in them. One such phrase came out when I needed a leak a few minutes into this game. Stood at the urinal & with the game still scoreless, the trap next to me was occupied by a familiar face, I don't know his name but he's a mate of Ordsall Paul, and as he had been on holiday the week previously he asked me if the debacle at Warrington had been as bad as many had said. "It was awful mate, we really hit rock bottom last week, we look absolutely sunk on that evidence", I informed him, "Well, you know sometimes you have to hit rock bottom before you can start to climb back up", he replied. I don't know what my reply was but I think it may have been along the lines of "Bollocks". After this game I would have ample time to reflect that he may just have been bang on the moolah.

It was, in truth, a game that none of us had really been looking forward to. After the crushing defeat of the previous week, coupled with a couple of very impressive Bulls performances of late, the result seemed a no-brainer if ever there was one. At least the club had reacted to the mauling at the HJ & moved to sign 3 players in advance of the deadline, snapping up Warrington's Michael Wainwright (for his 2nd spell at the club) and Richie Barnett together with Castleford's out of favour Tommy Saxton. To be fair nobody was dancing in the streets of Salford at these signings but it had to be better than doing nothing & McRae had worked with Saxton & Barnett at Hull so obviously thought there was something there to bring them to The Willows.

After doing a spot of of overtime (this was a Saturday match) and taking a mate's car down to Alan (Debbie's husband) for a quick quote on repairs, it was gone 3pm before I made it to the Eccles Cross for a pre-match refresher. Stayed there with Nic, Janice & Debbie for an hour or so before heading to the church hall to meet up with the lads who'd been pre-matching it on the Quays. After a couple of beers & a quick read of RAW issue 2 (still excellent) we made our way through the rain-soaked streets to the ground.

As expected, our new boys were drafted straight into the starting line-up with Luke Dorn finally being dropped to the bench. Although good defence would characterise the 1st half, both sides had chances to open the scoring most notably when Tupou's effort was chalked off for a forward pass to our great relief. Midway through the half we managed to work some space on the right which Robbo exploited with a smart kick to the corner where Viane just managed to ground the ball without touching the sideline (as confirmed by the Video Ref). It left Wilshere with a nasty conversion which hit the post flush on its side before dropping over the bar. After that I couldn't help but think that it may be our day after all.

If anything, the try seemed to spur on our already valiant efforts & with Wainwright & Korkidas bettering the Bulls pack we started to exert more control in the final 20 minutes of the half. Wilshere milked a penalty for obstruction which he slotted home for 8-0 before missing another penalty kick just on the hooter but still our spirits were raised by a 8-0 half-time lead & the manner of the performance in the 1st half.

Most of us expected the start of the 2nd period to bring a response from the Bulls & sadly we were proved correct. Deacon (who had been completely outplayed by Robbo) kicked a smart 40/20 & the Bulls quickly worked it out to the left for Tupou to force his way through Wilshere's attempted tackle & narrow the gap with Deacon adding a superb conversion. That clearly was the Bulls blueprint to get back in control of the game as shortly afterwards, Tupou was put through on the left again & bulldozed through Saxton to score, thankfully Deacon couldn't repeat the feat this time round. 8-10.

To be honest, although we stemmed the tide after that with some excellent defence, we never really looked like getting back in front until with about 15 minutes to go we worked a 6th tackle play left just inside our own half. There appeared to be little on but we kept the ball alive until it reached Aaron, Aaron Moule just in front of the shed. The Aussie maestro shimmied & stepped leaving St Hilaire stood rigid as he sped round the outside of him and raced downfield. As cover came across he fed the ball inside to the supporting Dorn who in turn fed it on to Robbo who raced away and slid under the sticks to restore our lead, wonderful try & easy extras for Wilshere to add.

Bradford started to lose their heads at this point & gave us a few penalties (Solomona being the chief culprit) which allowed us to run down some of the clock & look unthreatened for most of the remaining minutes. However, with the final seconds counting down, Deacon kicked left into our 20. Viane seemed to hesitate and to our horror James Evans nipped in to claim the ball. As cover came across he threw out a desperate pass towards Tupou which thankfully didn't reach his intended target & by the time he'd gathered the loose ball he had a foot in touch & the waving flag of the touch judge brought about wild celebrations as we got the ball back & saw out the remaining seconds.

It was time for some celebrating now and the 6pm kick-off meant a couple hours more drinking time than after a Friday night game. So we took advantage by celebrating in the Tav for an hour or so (most of which was spent in trying to get served) before getting a minibus to the Height for a few more sherbets in the Welly where Karl served up the chant of the night; "The answer my friend is Barnett on the wing" and Solly took advantage of possibly the world's best smoking area (with plasma screens up to watch the boxing in a patio-heated environment). The mood was lightened even further by a phone call from Buddha which allowed us all to congratulate our cult hero on a fine performance. As I said to him at the time, whatever the outcome in September, no-one will ever forget the roller-coaster ride which is this season. At drinking-up time we headed our separate ways with Bobby & Kate getting out of the cab at ours to have a few more drinkies & watch the re-run of the game on Sky. Even Bobby's fear of dogs couldn't keep him out (although we may not have told him about the 3 Rottweilers until he was actually in the house).

Warrington Wolves 42 Salford City Reds 6

The story of this game starts at about 7:45pm the previous day. With Hull KR playing in France, I received a phone call from Walshy, his tone sounded very downbeat. "Chris have you heard the score?", "No" I replied. "Hull KR are 22-6 up at half-time", "Oh fuck"! To say that this was an unexpected turn of events was an understatement, fresh from defeat in the derby at Craven Park KR were without some key players for the trip to the south of France and the Dragons were in good form, particularly at home. We put teletext on & were heartened when the Dragons reduced the arrears to 14-22 when my phone rang again from Walshy "Jones has just gone in it's 20-22 with 17 minutes left". The next 17 minutes were spent watching Teletext & looking at my phone willing it to ring. It didn't, Hull KR held out & the visit to our local rivals was now even more of a must-win game.

We got to the Eccles Cross at 9am and were first in when the doors opened. My breakfast thankfully arrived 1st and I had plenty of time to savour it, unlike Bobby who had to munch his inside 5 minutes before the bus to Warrington arrived. It was full when it arrived so we were forced to stand until the Trafford Centre causing a comedy moment when a sharp bit of braking sent Bobby hurtling down the bus. Eventually after conversations about prostitutes, clubbing & drugs we finally arrived in Warrington & headed to the Spoons pub for a pint. Solly, Walshy & Ordsall Red were already there so I sat down with them & we talked Partridge, Pheonix Nights, the previous weeks Radio Humberside phone in after the trouble at the derby game & John Smeaton "This is Glasgae, we'll set aboot yer".

Unfortunately the pub stank of piss so we didn't stay long pausing for a refuelling stop at the Hop Pole before heading on to the Lord Rodney made famous by our chant; "There's the Rodney in their town, in their town. And we're gonna burn it down, burn it down. We're gonna hang Lee Briers from the nearest fucking tree, for all you Wire scum to see." Walshy buys a programme which provides us with much sniggering as one page has an advert for a company called Massive with a Warrington badge underneath; "Because Wire are a massive club".

Having blagged my way in for a tenner, we buy the obligatory 2 pint lagers & head onto the terrace to cheer the boys in. The surfer was passed through the terrace before the teams came out only to be followed by Warrington's effort which of course prompted a chant of "What the fucking hell is that". When we got underway things quickly went wrong, in slippery conditions Korki spilled the ball & Bridge went through to feed the supporting Clarke to dash over; 6-0 after 2 minutes. The response was decent though & Dorn sparked us into life with a fine try to level matters after 10 minutes. The next 10 minutes were fairly evenly matched but we allowed the Wolves to stretch away with a poor finish to the half. Westwood, Fa'afilli & Briers all crossed the whitewash & we went in down and out at 22-6.

We parayed for a spirited, Catalan style fightback but what we got was gutless, inept & embarrassing. Amazingly we held out for about 15 minutes before Gleeson went over to extend Warrington's lead, it signalled the opening of the floodgates sadly. The exciting young prospect Kevin Penny then crossed for a hat-trick within 8 minutes before John Clarke sealed the embarrassment with a late try (thankfully the wayward kicking of Briers & Bridge restricted Wire to less than 50). At the final hooter vitriol poured down on the players from the travelling faithful, angry not that we'd lost but that we were going down without even a whimper, where was the pride in their profession, where was the sense of urgency about our situation that we supporters are feeling?

Walking back through pouring rain to the Rodney, I felt numb, even a pint couldn't shift my dark mood. How did we get to this? At this point Mike suggested going to have a word in the players' ears & telling them how angry we were so we headed back to the ground & found Littler, Buddha & Edmo just about to board the coach. We talked to them for5 minutes or so but they weren't the ones we really had anything to say to. Simon Finnigan was one & I felt I had to collar him, the alcohol has numbed what I said but I don't remember it being too complimentary. At least he faced us unlike certain players who we would have loved to have a quiet word with but were in no mood to come out it would seem.

The post mortem over in the Rodney, we headed to the Hop Pole to get on with the serious business of having a laugh. Me & Matt did a virtuoso version of Matchstalk Men & Cats & Dogs on the karaoke & we had a decent sing-off with the Warrington fans (marred only by a small scuffle). On heading outside though, Martin & I got ourselves into slightly more trouble! A bottle crashed against the wall of the Hop Pole narrowly missing Martin so deciding that the likely culprits were the lads heading to the bus station we decided to catch up with them & discuss the matter. Getting into the station we couldn't find who it was so I headed to the loos for a dump!

Getting back into the pub Martin told me that he'd launched a pint pot at the most likely culprits before a group of lads came steaming across from the Prince of Wales & belted him. On finding out that they were outside now we felt it best to confront them but 4 v 2 didn't sound like a good option so we rounded up Paul & Deano to even things up before heading out. As the debate got heated, Martin was dragged away by a couple of women out of it & I suddenly realised that the 4 of them were all facing up to me! Looking around to find out why the reason was soon clear; Paul & Deano had disappeared back into the pub, nice one boys! We decided that it would be best to talk our way out of this one & disappear up the other side of town quite quickly so we headed back to the pissy smelling Wetherspoons before meeting up with everyone in Macauleys.

Salford City Reds 18 Wakefield Trinity Wildcats 35

Oh dear, now I'm a great sales man (of that there can be no doubt) but still I have my bad days when I can't get a deal for the life of me. Sometimes you can blame it on bad luck eg. everyone I spoke to today was a thick wanker who just wasn't prepared to listen. Being honest, however, I know there are days when I'm just not on it, when for whatever reason my brain isn't working quick enough to handle objections or to catch a buying signal from someone & I only realise what I should have done when the moment has passed. I guess what I'm saying is that whatever we do for a living, we all have our bad days & of course RL players are not exempt from this. I can only hop & pray that what occurred on Friday night was a bad day at the office for most of our team because if not then we really are doomed.

Now for what it's worth I am bang on at my job at the moment, the sales are flying in & I'm already mentally spending the big pay cheque that I can look forward to in August as I type. So as I left the office on Friday with the praise of my colleagues & managers ringing in my ears, I was in particularly great form; it was Nic's birthday so I would have a few beers with her after watching Salford climb off the bottom of the table, then spend a lazy Saturday playing video games before a nice day out together on Sunday with a nice meal then back into work invigorated & ready to sell, sell, sell. I was chomping at the bit to see some rugby; I'd missed the Saints game of course & we'd then had a week off while the challenge cup rolled round. The Harlequins game the following week was then followed by an international break (and I didn't think Britain's 2nd string crushing France was worth taking a day off to go and see despite Hodgy & Coley being selected for GB) so I had eagerly anticipated last week's trip to Hull. Unfortunately the torrential rain which had played a backdrop to the Harlequins game had hung around & caused sever flooding in parts of Yorkshire (Hull included) & the police requested the game be postponed.

The week off provided us with some comfort on the Saturday when first Hull KR and then later Warrington were both beaten, Wakefield would ease themselves away from the danger zone by walloping Wigan on the Sunday but we were now only a point behind Hull KR (and 3 from Warrington) with a crucial game in hand. Light at the end of the tunnel indeed. As it was Nic's birthday I headed to the Con club pre-game but after 10 minutes of waiting and still being no nearer the bar, I called it a day & headed to the Church Hall where I joined another big queue for a beer, hmmph. Beer duly bought & downed very quickly I headed to the ground with Walshy & Solly (who was still moaning about the smoking ban that had come into effect on the previous Sunday).

The game really couldn't have started much worse we looked nervy & had a let-off almost straight away when a Jeffries kick early in the tackle count put the pacy Paul White clear only for him to lose the ball in the act of grounding. We were making far too many errors in our own territory for us to hold out much longer though & eventually Rooney went over but thankfully missed a fairly straightforward attempt to add the extras. When we finally did get in the opponents half, we took full advantage as Robbo threw an outrageous dummy which the Wakey cover queued up to buy while the little maestro raced over the line, Wilshere adding a fine goal.

Any hopes that that would kick-start us into life was quickly quashed as the visitors quickly established control and Jeffries kick on the last was spilled by Dorn to allow McGillivray to drop over the line & restore Wakey's lead. Worse was to follow, Obst chipped over the defence, Jeffries hacked it on & though beaten by Dorn in the foot-race to the line, the stand-off chose not to kick it dead but re-gather it only to fail to do so & allow Jeffries the easiest try of his career. By the time Atkins was put through for a try on the left, we were looking right down the barrel at 6-20. Thankfully on only our 3rd foray into the opposition 20, Hodgy stretched over & we were just about back in touch at 12-20 as the hooter limped out across the ground so feebly that the referee failed to hear it until the Wakefield players pointed it out.

The 2nd half was no better, we failed to deal with any of Wakefield's kick plays & perhaps more worryingly we failed to deal with deep kick-offs. Amazingly we got ourselves into the game for a 10 minute spell but with a penalty awarded in front of the sticks 12 metres out we inexplicably chose to kick for goal. 14-20 and we still needed to score twice to win the game, what the fuck was that about? Any advantage we may have gleaned was eroded when Rooney slotted a penalty of his own then another shortly after, 14-24. Another fumbled kick (this time by Hodgson) allowed Peter Fox to extend their lead further before a drop goal from Rooney eased them further away. Some shambolic defence allowed Atkins to cross again before we added some gloss to the scoreline with a late Finnigan effort. Luke Dorn's night was summed up late on as he tried to get a kick away under pressure only for it to come off his knee & travel about 4 yards (mainly sideways). Not a great night at all.

I went for a quick drink in the Con club post-game where we moaned about how comprehensively outplayed we'd been before heading back to meet my mates in the Tav. By now we were at least trying to look forward to next week's trip to Warrington where even if we lose the crucial 2 points on offer (which I'd wager will happen) we'll have a memorable day out. Even Mike's coming on the piss for this one!

Just before 11 I went back to the Con club & joined Nic & co for a few more beers. Struggling to get a taxi we headed back to Frank's flat to try & sort one out while we tucked into his beer & sandwiches. The night took its inevitable toll on Nic as she re-decorated the step outside Frank's back door & the taxi home probably provided some relief to her as she could fall into her bed. We now are relying on Huddersfield & Hull to do us favours on Sunday afternoon against Warrington & Hull KR respectively.

Salford City Reds 5 Harlequins RL 2

The text message I'd been waiting for duly arrived at 9am on the Monday morning 10 days following our heatbreaker on Mersydive. The club had already announced a press conference to announce our new coach for 10am on that morning but Bobby was first out of the blocks and let me know that former St Helens, Gateshead, Hull FC & South Sydney supremo Shaun 'Bomber' McRae had signed a deal to the end of 2011. Whilst hardly a surprise I was still delighted, Shaun has a wealth of experience in Super League having won the title with Saints & performed a great job at both Gateshead & Hull and tying him to a long-term deal proved that he is as excited about our future plans after the move to Barton as we fans are. With a few days to go before our next game the new coach would have time to get his ideas across too.

A few days before the game, our spell of wonderful weather broke, big time. As a result the match was played in torrential rain & on a boggy surface. Open rugby was hardly likely to be the order of the day but it would turn out to be a dour tense affair though with still quite a lot to offer to the seasoned observer of the game, but tellingly it would prove to be just as tense & nerve fraying a game as the previous 2 had been.

A day off allowed me plenty of time to relax & get psyched for the game but we were pretty late in leaving the house to set off for Weaste so there was just time to have a quick couple of pints in the Con club before heading out to the ground. The game had been designate as the chairman's silver jubilee game & the shed was full of happy anniversary balloons & banners to celebrate our beloved Wilky who received a rapturous reception from the fans as he walked across the pitch pre-game. Bomber & Simms followed shortly after to similar ovations & then the teams were out and we were off.

A lovely move early on saw Dorn create some space for Wilshere but, as we all prepared to go mental, Tyrone Smith came across to make a superb saving tackle & the deadlock remained. The 2 players would again be instrumental midway through the 1st half when that wonderful Harlequins playmaker Mark McLinden came into the line to create a gap for Smith. Smith went clear & was running powerfully at Wilshere who suddenly lost his footing. As he fell to the floor & Smith tried to hurdle him, Wilshere just managed to get a part of his anatomy on Smith sending the big man spinning through the air before gravity took control bringing him crashing onto the turf with the ball jarring loose as a result. A fantastic comedy moment for all in attendance & a real let-off as far as we were concerned because without the fortune that we had it was difficult to see anything stopping Smith's progress to the line.

A penalty in front of the sticks gave Wilshere a chance to open the scoring which he duly took & the scoreline at the hooter would remain 2-0. The early moments of the 2nd half saw a spell of Salford pressure but a combination of wrong decisions and some excellent line defence by the Quins kept us out. Harlequins reaped their reward for their hard work when a Sykes penalty levelled the scores.

This spurred a good reaction from the Reds who would enjoy much more ball & territory for the remainder of the game without seriously threatening to cross the line. It was looking increasingly like a 1 pointer may be enough & sure enough with a little over 10 minutes remaining on the clock, Robbo slotted one over & we had the lead back. Another penalty from Wilshere shortly afterwards stretched the lead and although there were a few nervy moments in the final 10 minutes, our defence held firm to grab an ugly but absolutely crucial win.

So back to the Tavern where it was all smiles again as we looked back on Super League's first ever tryless encounter although not the lowest scoring game (another honour which we hold, winning our first ever SL game against Castleford 4-0 thanks to a Phil Coussons effort). The other source of amusement was seeing Bobby disturb Guardian writer Andy Wilson's quiet pint ruined by Bobby talking him through his various conspiracy theories & tactical ideas. Sorry Andy, lol! A good start to the McRae era though & we now looked forward to the visit to his old Hull stomping ground the following week with surprising optimism.

St Helens 27 Salford City Reds 26

Hmm, a bit of a tricky one to report on is this one. A switch of date from a Saturday evening to a Friday left me out of luck. Working until 7pm so I had to try & get some time off, sadly my request was denied. I tried all manner of excuses to get it approved but in the end I had to admit defeat. Of course in constantly badgering my boss to get the day off, I'd effectively ruled out the option of taking a sickie because with the fuss I'd kicked up no-one would forget that I'd wanted the day off to begin with so with heavy heart I had to sit this game out. I almost missed a game that would have become the stuff of legend amongst Salford fans.

Saints had a cup quarter-final to look forward to & therefore rested a few key players but the 17 they put out looked to be more than capable of seeing off even spirited resistance from our own basement dwellers & sure enough on arriving home & pouring myself a beer I turned on the radio to find us already behind to an early try. However, barely a swig of beer had passed my lips before my spirits were lifted by Stefan Ratchford scoring his 1st senior try for us & Wilshere's touchline conversion put us in front. Saints regained the advantage afew minutes later but it remained tight until the last 10 minutes of the half when 2 incredible length of the field interception tries by Wilshere & Hodgson (which were both converted) gave us a shock 18-10 lead. To say that I was dancing around the room would be a massive understatement for my solo goonage in front of the radio! My jubilation was quelled by an unconverted try by the champions just before the hooter. But still 18-14 at Knowseley Road, we'd take that at the turnaround that's for sure. But hang on, they've knocked on from the kick-off, Coley's picked it up & I can still hear GMR's Phil Kinsella's voice in my head as I type this "and Coley will score". Fucking hell, the hooter's gone now & I can barely take in that we're 22-14 up. My head was spinning!

My phone was white hot with text messages streaming through from Merseyside during the interval & I said to Walshy on one of them that the next try was crucial. So I'm sure tyou can imagine my response when after a tense opening 10-15 minutes we got the try through Johnny Wilshere. Barely had I pressed send on my latest message to Walshy before after an agonising period when we seemed to be continually stopping Saints only for them to keep the ball alive with a series of offloads, fatboy Cunningham went over to cut the deficit to 20-26. Just hold out lads, please. They did until 7 minutes from time when Gilmour went over & Sculthorpe's goal tied the scores. It was too much for me to take. I listened to about another 4 or 5 minutes but had to turn the radio off & put Sky's game on, waiting to see confirmation that we'd held on. No sooner had I put the game on when the caption I'd dreaded came up; 79mins St Helens 27 Salford City Reds 26. Fuck, arse, bollocks.

In no time another caption came up; Result St Helens 27 Salford City Reds 26. Devo'd! Only when Walshy & co texted me did I find out that straight after Matty Smith's winning drop goal, Robbo had hit the post with one of his own to deny us of the point that all observers reckoned was the least we deserved. Still with a new coach to come it was difficult not to be optimistic.

Salford City Reds 14 Huddersfield Giants 12

The story of this post for me has its logical beginnings in Pipex's offices in South Manchester on the Tuesday morning before the game. Reading the Pipex website between calls as is my usual routine I noticed a new headline on the sports page; "Harrison sacked by Reds". Excitedly clicking on the link to check it was relevant (as a RL story on our website is as rare as rocking-horse excrement) I discovered that indeed after 5 years, Rhino had been given the Spanish archer. Now, I have a lot of respect for Karl as a person & as a coach so it's with a sense of shame that I admit my reaction was to shout a huge "YESSSSS!" which resounded around the office. The reason being that, for whatever reason, as long as Karl stayed in charge there was only one possible outcome to the season; relegation. The new man would have a huge job to do but at least we now had a sniff of a chance. In the short-term that man would be Steve Simms with our Director of Football forced to step into the caretaker role, still assisted by Jimmy Lowes despite his shocking reaction to the barracking the fans had given after the French farce the week previously.

Speculation in the lead up to the game would suggest that Shaun McRae was the early favourite for the job & the big Aussie had flown into England on the eve of the game to start some summarising work for Sky. The fact that he was at the game alongside Simms would do nothing to quell the speculation.

The teams came out before the TV cameras to a backdrop of one of Mike's banners which read "Thank You Karl", sentiments that everyone would readily echo. From the start it appeared that Simms was at least willing to mix up the failed formula as Wilshere started at full-back with Hodgy reverting to his favoured wing position. It was also noticeable that when the (still on a long unbeaten run) Giants had the ball, Luke Dorn was defending very wide out to take him away from being targetted by the Giants pack. It worked, we were mag-fucking-nificent. A thrilling 1st half saw none of the fine attacking football that both sides served up rewarded until just before the break when a move inside the Giants 20 saw Dorn put through a slight opening to feed Buddha for the opening try. The extras were missed so the teams went in at 4-0 at the break.

Having waited so long for points in the 1st half the 2nd would be completely the opposite with the Giants pulling level almost immediately with stand-in centre Wild scoring from the ever dangerous Drew's pass. A Thorman penalty from in front of the sticks for a high-tackle then put Huddersfield in front. The quality of what followed needed to be seen to be believed; Wilshere collected a good kick to the goal-line & evaded a couple of would-be tacklers before being caught. He managed to sneak out an extraordinary off-load to the supporting Hodgson who raced 70 metres away from Brad Drew to touch down under the sticks & leave most of the Shed covered in beer.

Soon after, Stuart Littler ran the ball away from our 20 zig-zagging cross-field before another off-load sent Buddha away. As Buddha was caught he passed right to Dorn who crossed the halfway line before returning the ball to Buddha. As the supporting Giants got back, Buddha looked right again to feed Gray Viane to go the last 20 metres to complete a sensational try. More beer covered me as the Shed went absolutely ape-shit.

The rest of the game was of a similar high quality & our pack were immense in standing firm & keeping us with the advantage. But it wouldn't be Salford without some nail-biting & just when we thought the points were safe Paul Reilly squeezed in at the corner before Thorman's excellent kick meant a nervy finish. As the clock ticked-down on the big-screen & Robbo punted the ball dead to bring the hooter, the jubilation on & off the pitch was unmistakeable. There's still a long way to go but at least the green shoots of a recovery were finally visible.

After staying to roar the team off the pitch, I headed out towards the Tavern with a huge daft grin across my face. Robbo's missus spotted me & ran over & the hug we shared this time was altogether happier. Further along the Shed I spotted Janice & Kirsty who both ran over with similar daft grins on their faces. What a difference. As we headed through the tunnel, Buddha was still outside the changing rooms with his little 'un. I told him what a great game he'd had & we shook hands still with our faces plastered with daft grins. When I finally got to the Tav, everyone's face told the story. For once we were laughing & joking all night as the beer flowed. More of the same please Reds.

Les Catalans Dragons 66 Salford City Reds 6

And that's about all I want to say about this one.

Salford City Reds 10 Huddersfield Giants 36

Any lingering optimistic dreams of Wembley were very quickly snuffed out in this game, what had seemed like a decent draw at the time would see us take on the league's form team (still unbeaten since our win at the 'Pharm an age earlier) and another insipid display saw us crash out of the cup with barely a whimper.

A quick dash from work got me in the ground in good time on a miserably wet night (which thankfully helped us keep the scoreline semi respectable) and it was a sensible option in the conditions to take any points on offer which the Giants were first to do with Thorman goaling a penalty early doors to establish an early 2 point lead. However, out of the blue, Dorn conjured up a fine solo effort which Wilshere goaled comfortably to give us a 6-2 lead midway through the half. On typical fashion, Haggy's first contribution was a knock-on deep in our own territory & the visitors took advantage with Kevin Brown strolling over to regain the lead. Brown added a 2nd before the hooter when he intercepted Dorn's Hollywood pass and the visitors went in 14-6 in front.

The 2nd half began as the 1st ended with Hudderfield crossing through Wild with Thorman unable to add the extras before we got a lifeline from an unlikely source, There was a lengthy stoppage after a nasty looking injury to Haggy and as he was finally stretchered from the field we re-started play quickly with Robbo putting in a smart kick for Littler to score with Haggy still crossing the sideline.

That was to be the end of the resistance & a pathetic effort in the final quarter saw tries from Paul, Lolesi & Nero wrap up an easy win for the Giants. Time to get pissed & anticipate the trip to France next week.

Salford City Reds 18 Warrington Wolves 50

Now this post created a dilemma (apart from the obvious one about finding new adjectives to describe this latest instalment of garbage served up by the Reds), you see it was played on the neutral venue of the Millennium Stadium in Cardiff meaning I wasn't sure in which order to list the teams for the scoreline, alphabetical order won the day if you were wondering. This game was one of the Millennium Magic fixtures conjured up by the RFL with all 6 super-league games being played over one weekend in the Welsh capital. As such I will split my report on a really rather excellent few days (ruined only by a wanker of a taxi-driver & 17 men in red shirts) into the relevant days.

Friday

An early start as the bags are loaded into a taxi & we head to Piccadilly station for a 8:30 train to South Wales. The train is surprisingly packed & we're glad that we've reserved seats while it's refreshing to note that there are a number of RL shirts on display through the carriages. The journey is interminably long & after a few gloriously sunny days most of it sees us travelling through grey skies. The latest edition of Viz keeps me amused while Nic, Janice & Debbie are doing the girlie talk. As we hit the outskirts of Cardiff the sun moves dramatically back into view & a 15 minute stop-off at Cardiff Central prompts Nic & Jan to go on the platform for a cig only to be swiftly reminded that smoking is already banned in public places in Wales. Something that they'll have plenty of cause to remember over the next few days.

An hour after leaving Cardiff, we arrive in Swansea (our home for the next few days). First impressions are not great as it looks a thoroughly grotty city as we make our way into the 1st dingy pub we find. The locals are friendly & are asking us about the games that are coming up & the staff are obliging too, our request for Water St where our hotel is located is met by blank looks but the promise to find where it is. He needn't have bothered, a quick phone call reveals it's Wynd St where the hotel is & on asking a woman she points out that it's the street where all the pubs & bars are. Result.

Next stop is a gay pub for another pint before tucking into some decent pub grub & dragging the bags down Wynd St. We had not been misled, it was a long road running down from the castle remains that was packed with decent looking bars & clubs. We swiftly decided that our first impression of Swansea couldn't have been wider of the mark. Checking into the hotel & giving the bed a quick road test we decide to head out for the night. We have a couple of beers on Wynd St before going our separate ways; Jan & Deb are sampling Swansea's hospitality while Nic & I head to Bridgend to take in the first match of the weekend; Celtic Crusaders v Oldham. Leaving the station at Bridgend we pop into the 1st pub we come across but I almost walk straight out when I saw 2 Warrington shirts propping the bar up. The banter remains just about on the right-side of good natured but I still feel like punching the geezer at times!

So together with the Wire couple & a few Whinos fans we picked up on the way, a Crusader fan leads us to Brewery Field where for a fiver we're served up a great game of RL. The home side race into a big lead before a spirited late fightback from Oldham sees the visitors take the points in dramatic style. All this & there's a bar at the back of the stand so we manage to keep thoroughly well-oiled on a warm night, great stuff. Fortunately the game was shown live on Sky & played in front of a record crowd for the division, a great advert for life outside Super League. Getting back into Bridgend it's as if the town's undergone some magical transformation & the previously empty streets & pubs are packed out so we jostle with the locals to get to the bar & have a few beers with a lad I know called Paul (a Hull FC fan from Norwich) & look forward to the weekend. Paul's a bit wankered & doesn't make a great 1st impression with Nic, probably due to the fact she asked for a Smirnoff with ice only for him to come back from the bar with a Smirnoff Ice!

The train back to Swansea takes about 30 minutes & we arrive at about 12:30 heading straight to the centre to meet Janice & Debbie. A quick drink in the Pitcher & Piano is followed by a visit to Lloyds where we stay a while. After about half an hour there's just me & Nic left so we have a few more beers while the DJ does his thang, as soon as he finishes a tall balding guy spots Nic's polo shirt & comes over & talks to us. "Salford fans then eh?", he states the obvious, "Did you see the Crusaders-Oldham match tonight?" We tell him that we went & enjoyed an excellent game. "What did you think of the officials?", he enquires, we said that they were pretty decent before he tells us that he was one of the touch judges. After obviously questioning his parentage (the only possible reaction to meeting a Rugby League official) we discuss the game before I ask who the ref was. "Gareth Hewer" is the reply,"he's over there now". At this point a red mist descends upon me, Hewer is the ref who caved in to the crowd in our squeaky victory at Hull KR & I've still never forgiven his weak handling of the game which nearly cost us a valuable 2 points. "HEWER!", I shout, "Get him over here now!" A meek looking young man is beckoned over & I launch into a tirade at him over his handling of his Super League debut. He takes it in good spirit & gives his side of the story before we eventually get on to the wider aspect of officiating. The tall touch judge takes umbrage with my opinion of them & that we'd be better served without them for all they do in a game but is surprisingly forthcoming with his opinions on 2 referees who we & all Salford fans despise. As one is still a ref I won't name him but the recently retired Karl Kirkpatrick is widely derided by all the officials present as a self-important wanker. Not exactly revelatory but good to hear nonetheless. Before we leave I take a leak upstairs & Hewer joins me in there, "Can I ask you something?". he says, "When you were at the game did it feel like an 11-2 penalty count?" I can't keep my cool "Of course it fucking felt like it, all we seemed to be doing was running backwards for non-existent fucking penalties & they never fucking grounded the ball just after half-time, Dorny clearly had his hand under it?" I felt a lot better then.

After another prompting from the bouncers we drink up & wish the officials a fondish farewell & a good weekend. For them their work is done & they, like us, can look forward to a weekend of beer & great rugby. The walk back to the hotel is short & in no time we're tucked up in bed reflecting on a very nice evening over a brew. At this point Nic comes out with a horrifying revelation; "That Gareth was younger than I thought & you could tell he'd played the game he had a great body. He's quite cute actually!" Now, finding out that your girlfriend fancies someone else is never nice, but a referee, and a referee who fucked Salford over big-style just a few weeks earlier! I'm quite frankly appalled by this & I must admit I found it very hard to muster up the will to make love to her after that.

Saturday

Early start for me as I'm heading into Cardiff for today's action. Nic on the other hand has bizarrely opted to go round the pubs of Swansea trying to find the games on TV, something she could quite easily have achieved in Salford! I'm a little bit hungover, no doubt due to drinking cider inside the ground last night, and even a brew & a shower isn't improving my situation. I decide that only a breakfast can cure me so after getting ready I head back to Lloyds for a full English. As I walk in a few lads beckon me over to their table, I must admit I don't recognise them but I know I talked to a lot of people last night when I was pissed. "Alright, what time are the rest of your boys arriving then?" one says. I assume that I must have been talking to them & told them about all the other Salford lads who are arriving today. "About 12'ish I think they're due in," I reply. "Are you up for it then?", "Too right" I say not entirely sure what they meant. "You're ready for a fight then eh mate" said a Burberry clad other. This was taking an unexpected turn "Eh?" is all I can muster. "You're Blackpool aren't you?", ahh, the penny drops; Swansea City play Blackpool today in a crucial League One decider & I realise that my north-west accent is not going to help me out of this one. "I'm here to watch the rugby mate not Blackpool", this isn't looking good & they seem less than convinced "Just tell your boys we'll be ready for them" says Burberry boy & I mutter something & head off to the bar. While waiting at the bar I can feel them staring at me & a quick glance confirms it. That's it, I calmly make for the door then leg it straight up Wynd St. Sorry Blackpool, didn't do your reputation much good there. I settle for a MacDonalds breakfast instead, at least it resembles food & head to the station for a train to Cardiff which is packed so I sit in the vestibule to get some peace & clear my head.

On the way 2 blokes from Halifax with their kids are discussing the kick-off times so I let them know when they are & we start to discuss Swansea's nightlife. All too soon the train pulls into Bridgend & half of Rugby League land descends on the train. I'm squashed up against the door by the time we set off & on a hot day with a hangover this is all I need. The half hour between Bridgend & Cardiff is very hard work & I feel sure that if it was much longer I would have been faced with an unpleasant vomit related incident. Finally we all spill out onto Cardiff Central & the relief from getting some fresh air into my lungs is immense, as I can finally get to my phone I check on all the messages I've received & most people seem to be in the Prince of Wales. Good, I know that pub.

The pub's packed & the atmosphere's rocking already, I quickly spot a Catalans shirt & sure enough it's John & Chris so I grab a pint and join them. John tells me he's seen Paul (I suppose a blind man in a Salford shirt is easy to spot even in a packed pub) so I go and say hello & meet his mates. Time's moving on and as 12:30 approaches I take my leave and head to Walkabout to watch Citeh v Utd, John & Chris will meet us down there later. It's rammed but only the upstairs is open & bizarrely the big screen is showing some game from the Yawnion premiership & that is the commentary as well! I settle in front of one of the small TV's when Rachel spots me & comes over for a drink, I'm probably very antisocial though as Derby fever has gripped me, sorry Rach.

Thankfully shortly after kick-off the downstairs bar opens & we head down to watch it on a big-screen (albeit without commentary). Ronaldo teases the City defence & the thuggish Ball is tricked into tripping him. The magnificent seven dusts himself down & dispatches the penalty with aplomb for what will prove to be the winner of an awful game. Who cares, we're almost home & hosed now & Chelsea are faced with going to the Emirates tomorrow needing to win to keep the title alive.

Ominously, the bar is full of Warrington fans while Rach is the only Salford fan I've encountered here. So the chant of "In your Salford slums" has to go unanswered I'm afraid. Reinforcements are quick to arrive though as I receive a text from Mike asking if I'm heading to Cardiff this weekend. I tell him I'm already in Walkabout & he replies that he'll see me in 5 mins. He arrives with Matt & we head outside to down some cans in the sunshine. This leads to some very funny conversations eg;

Mike: "We passed a boat shop on the way here, do you fancy getting up early tomorrow Chris & buying some flares?"
Me: "What a good idea."
Matt: "You'll get kicked out, it says on the ticket that flares are banned in the stadium."
Me: "We could tell them we thought they meant trousers."

With that idea out of the window, our attention turns to the many primrose & blue flags on the streets. The plan is to buy one tomorrow & burn it in an Arab state-esque gesture while dancing around the tattered & charred remains videoing it on our phones for posterity & we decide that tomorrow will be the best day to do it. Passing a flag vendor, I ask him if his flags burn well, "Oh yeah" he replies with a strange sense of pride & we vow to return tomorrow.

We make it into the stadium for the last few minutes of the 1st half of game 1; Harlequins v Les Catalans Dragons. In a good game the Dragons are in front to the joy of a healthy Catalan contingent to our right whose lusty chants of "Catalan" are joined by aSalford version of "Matalan". By now we've been joined by a few reds including some unfamiliar faces. The 2nd half is just as entertaining with Quins coming from behind to steal the spoils & then there was the game that everyone had been talking about Hull FC v Hull KR. Their meeting coming just over a week after serial wife-beater Paul Cooke had made his highly-controversial move across the city.

The atmosphere was bordering on ugly & we were slap bang in the middle with a group of KR fans behind us having been joined by some FC'ites across the aisle. The cheapish beer in the stadium had taken its effects by now & from my recollection it was a poor game which KR always seemed slightly more in control of. Sure enough Cooke led our relegation rivals to victory giving us an extra urgency for tomorrow's game.

The 3rd game was equally anticipated as it was to be my 1st Wigan v Saints game. However, I had to spend most of the game on the phone to 3's customer services monkeys in Bangalore after my phone developed a texting problem. It was a walk in the park for Saints anyway who were ruthless in disposing of their neighbours with Paul Wellens grabbing 4 tries in a comfortable win.

So we headed back to the Prince of Wales stopping only for a conversation with the Catalan mob in which we discovered that Ronaldinho (or some poor soul who looks exactly like him) is a fan of the Dragons. Our "c'est Ronaldinho n'est ce pas" proving much Gallic jocularity. At about 10pm I headed back to the station for the train to Swansea only to find that there was a very limited service on a Saturday night & I'd missed the last one. A conversation with a copper made it clear that my only option was a taxi & that would cost about £90. Fuck that. I headed back to the pub only to find that the Salford crew had left, now here I had a problem; while phoning Nic to tell her I was stuck in Cardiff my battery had died so not only could I not phone anybody, I couldn't get anyone's numbers. I found a Saints fan I knew and told him the problem, luckily one of the girls in his group had a 3 phone which I put my SIM in to get Bobby's number. Using her phone I called him and found that everyone was in Flares. I bought the kind girl a drink & scooted off round there.

It was busy, very busy so I joined the queue & eventually got to the front before being told by a bouncer that I couldn't get in as I had shorts on, arse. Luckily Kate was in the front of the club & saw me before coming out to ask what the problem was. Bobby then shot out & we flagged a taxi so I could go back to their hotel & borrow a pair of jeans to get in. We asked the taxi driver how much the return journey would be & he told us £50, ouch. So I asked how much to Swansea & he replied £45, a bit of a no-brainer really so Bobby jumped out & we set off for Swansea. "Do you want the money now mate?" I asked, "No", he said, "you're not pissed, pay me when we get there."

The 40 minute journey was filled with talk of football & i genuinely thought he was a decent guy. The clock was running despite me saying that I would take the £45 fare & it was showing what a bargain I'd got. We pulled up by the hotel & he said "that's £89 please mate", my reply was something along the lines of fuck that & I gave him the £45 we agreed. Fortunately the lock wasn't on so I jumped out & I headed up the back street towards the hotel, however, with the hotel being in the centre of the action the driver had no trouble finding a policeman & I was collared before I made the door. I explained what had happened & 1 of the coppers went to discuss with the driver before reporting back "Sorry mate, he said you told him to leave the clock running." Lying cunt! Admitting defeat I handed over 40 bar, he could fucking whistle for the other 4 & headed into the hotel bar to calm myself down. When your luck's out, it's really out, the serving wench told me they'd just stopped serving so I had to make do with a brew in my room before being joined by a ridiculously drunk Nicola who's "the room keeps spinning" protestations did nothing to lighten my mood.

Sunday

Felt a lot better waking up this morning, though much lighter in the pocket naturally & I awoke to a message from Walshy on my phone telling me that the DVD on the club coach was "Phoenix Nights series 2". Spookily I replied with the quote from the "Crimetime" episode of "Tonight, police probe Leeds girls' snatch, can you help?" Bizarrely the Walsh replied that that exact line was on when he received my message, spooky or what.

Shit, shower & shave later & I set off for the station with Nic waiting behind for her mates to be ready. Unfortunately for her they passed me just outside the station on a rail-replacement bus to Cardiff. I took the slow train which diverted by the Airport to make it even slower. At Bridgend I was joined by some more of the Halifax crew including one of the kids who were on Salford's books so he was thrilled to see at least 1 Reds's shirt, although I'd spotted Robbo's bird & her mates all in Salford shirts & as we arrived finally into Cardiff, I found myself walking down the steps behind them which made for a quite pleasant sight.

A healthy throng of Reds were in the Prince of Wales pub & we observed with much hilarity the amount of Warrington fans in jester hats before we headed outside for the last of the sunshine. It was outside that we noticed that the infamous drum had arrived & we had to wonder what kind of a tool would take a drum to a pub. We imagined the sight at the bar "BOOM, BOOM, pint of lager, BOOM, BOOM, and a bottle of Becks please, BOOM, BOOM."

Ordsall Red had been supplied with a camcorder by Channel M's Code XIII programme & he set about grabbing some soundbites for the show & despite dread at the forthcoming 80 minutes we were in fairly good spirits. As the wind started to whip up we headed back inside where a song off was to get going fairly quickly, with the rumours of a NOTW drugs scoop about to break involve the Wire half-back pairing a particular favourite of the Salford fans was "He sniffs on the left, he sniffs on the right, that boy Briers, is sniffing all night" with accompanying nasal gestures. We more than held our own on the vocal front once again proving right our final adage of "We're only a few but we're louder than you."

Time to head back to the stadium though & we took up residence in one of the corner blocks filling it with flags as the final minutes of Huddersfield's easy win against Wakefield unfolded before us. Then it was time to get the heart racing & sing your hearts out as our heroes took the field to do battle with the despised Wolves. Why do we even bother?

This display was gutless, pathetic, an embarrasment to the club. I don't think I've evr witnessed as horrible a performance as that against what is a very poor Warrington side that clearly is tearing itself apart. I felt thoroughly ashamed at the final hooter & the fact that this was played out in front of fans from every SL club & the Sky cameras just added to the shame I felt, I only hope that some of the players felt it too. The only high spot was the wonderful try we created for Dorn just before half-time which amazingly kept us in touch at the turn-around. We deserved the trouncing we got.

My head was spinning at the end of the game. I was really hurting that this side has so willingly accepted relegation already & that they don't seem to care at the pain they're putting us through, with Leeds v Bradford still to come. I told everyone I needed to go for a walk & I'd see them soon but deep down I knew I wouldn't come back. Outside I saw Parky looking as despondent as me & we were soon joined by Tommy & his missus. As I tried to express my frustration at what I'd witnessed my emotions got the better of me & I broke down. That's never happened before!

As they went back inside the stadium, GT came along, he was leaving so I decided to leave with him. As I got to the gates a number of people excitedly yelled that the game at The Emirates was over, 1-1. United were champions. We didn't celebrate, couldn't. We really, really wanted to but there was no emotion anywhere. We both agreed that we's been hoping that Chelsea would score so we could win it when we felt better & really enjoy it but nothing could lift this gloom I'm afraid. Back in the pub even the Warrington fans could only console us, they knew that they's steamrollered a team that was beaten before they left the changing rooms & they probably knew that they should have beat us heavier.

Nic joined us in the pub & we just hugged & didn't say a word, there was nothing that could be said. FWIW we missed the best game of the weekend as Leeds edged out Bradford in a points fest decided by an illegitimate late Tansey try. The fallout from that game still rumbles on.

I decided to brave the wind & rain to get Nic some cigs & as I queued in the shop Robbo's missus walked in and came over to say hello. I must confess to feeling guilty at this point because as the team left the field (some smiling & waving to their families) I & everyone else around me gave them all manner of abuse. Not every player is deserving of such stick of course & Luke Robinson is foremost among those. He has tried his nads off for us all season behind a failing pack & has been at the heart of everything that's good. I told his missus that we are so grateful for his efforts & that when the team gets stick he is one of the few who is exempt from it. I asked her to tell him this & that we adore the little genius & then it was her turn to get emotional before she told me that what's happening this year is killing him & he loves being a Salford player. I then got a big hug from her & her mates, which was nice!

The mood finally perked up on the train back to Swansea & we had a good sing-song with the locals on the train with "Delilah" & "Land of our Father's" being particular favourites. A quick beer in Swansea & it was off to bed before the long journey home the next day.

Salford City Reds 24 Wigan Warriors 50

It was hard not to have a smidgen of confidence before this one. The hope was of course that last week's win would be the confidence booster we needed that allowed the players to realise that they hadn't become bad overnight. Added to that nothing I'd seen of Wigan to this point had led me to believe that they were anything but a poor Wigan side & to be honest there wasn't much in this game to suggest otherwise. It's just that this is a truly shocking Salford side!

No real time for a pre-game beer so I head straight to the Shed in time to pick a decent spot. We got off to the worst-possible start after Wigan's opening kick-off struck the post & we didn't react quick-enough allowing Wigan to re-gather the ball. The ball was sent quickly out wide & Bailey went over inside 30 seconds, here we go again! The Reds came up with a good reaction though & Andy Coley (giving easily his best display of the season against the side he's been constantly linked with a move to), charged over to level things. Aussie star Trent Barrett was given far to much space to weave his magic & put Wigan back in front soon after before another Coley charge put us back on terms. Annoyingly, we again gave Barrett a gap to run through & restore his side's lead before a kind bounce allowed Buddha to re-gather a kick & put Littler in for a leveller. But true to form on the stroke of half-time we gifted Leuluai a try to give the visitors the half-time advantage.

The 2nd half was a mere capitulation I'm afraid to say as Hansen extended their lead soon after the re-start. From there it was a walk in the park for Noble's side as Barrett, Millard twice & Goulding eased over the line with only a solitary Moule effort offering any resistance. Again I felt compelled to leave the ground a couple of minutes early but as I made my way to the Tavern it was hard to miss the chorus of boos that greeted the final hooter & hard to disagree with the boo-boys. Pathetic.

Hull Kingston Rovers 24 Salford City Reds 28

I think it would be a fair statement to say that not many of us made the journey to East Hull in good spirits or optimism for this one. With Huddersfield starting to kick into some form it was obvious that we needed to start getting points from somewhere & on paper the trip to the top-flight new boys looked an attractive proposition. However, recent capitulations meant that even Bobby had chalked this one down as a near certain defeat.

Initially I had planned to travel with the lads via Doncaster on the train but a late change of heart by Nic & Janice meant that I was going to travel with them on the train to Selby & then the rail-replacement bus. This of course meant that we could just buy tickets to Selby & jump the bus, thus saving us £12. However, when we got to Piccadilly, surprise surprise, all their mates were there which would leave me pretty much in limbo for the rest of the day.

The bus to take us to Hull must have come straight off the set of Heartbeat, it was ancient. The spectacle of it revving it's arse off on the A62 while the whole of East Yorkshire was zooming past in the outside lane would have been comical if it wasn't for the fact that I was ready for a cheeky beer or 8.

I settled down in the Admiral of Humber & watched the Wolves v Birmingham game followed by the 1st 10 minutes of Newcastle v Chelsea before Paul phoned to say he'd arrived. He'd met a KR fan on the bus so we all shared a taxi up to the ground together. Paul didn't have a ticket so we found the ticket office & sorted one out for him. No pubs around the ground really so we just had a couple of cans outside before making our way onto the rickety temporary stand that housed our fans (& a good few KR fans too). Basically, Hull KR had decreed that if you had a ticket stub from both this game & the forthcoming Huddersfield game, you would have priority for the Hull derby at Craven Park in July so plenty of floating supporters were out for this one. They were also no doubt geed up by the speculation in the days leading up to the match that Paul Cooke, Hull FC's classy playmaker, was about to make a stunning cross-city move.

As the teams came out the one good thing was that we were wearing our white change strip. a shirt in which we were undefeated so far. Whether it was the shirt or not, something had the players fired up as in the 1st set after the kick-off Bertie sent Robbo through a gap which had us with men over on our left. Robbo fed Aaron, Aaron Moule who drew the man to send Wilshere in at the corner to start the gooning off. Wilshere added a brilliant conversion. In the next set, a penalty piggy-backed us down the field & Robbo created an opening for Luke Dorn to send us bouncing around with the "Dorn, Dorn, Dorn, Dor-Dorn" chant. Again the extras were added. From the next set, another penalty & another line-break on the left hand side & Aaron, Aaron Moule dived over to just about ground the ball. Wilshere couldn't repeat his touchline heroics with the boot but with a little over 7 minutes played we were 16-0 up & KR hadn't touched the ball yet. How easy was this going to be?

Err, not very was the answer. We started to turn ball over & allow the hosts easy yards. Also, for this game the RFL had appointed a part-time ref, Gareth Hewer, who not having dealt with a super league crowd before seemed a little intimidated by the constant shouts of forward & ooh's after every Salford tackle. Having awarded us 2 penalties in that blistering opening 7 minutes, we wouldn't receive another for the remainder of the match.

15 minutes before half-time & with a real sense of inevitability, Gannon went over & Morton added the extras. From the next set, O'Neill forced his way over but thankfully Morton's kicking was not to his usual impeccable standards & so we remained 6 points up at the half.

The next score looked vital & ominously it was the home team who crossed with new man Lennon finishing Cockayne's break, again Morton failed to find the target, 14-16. Step forward the little maestro as Robbo made a break & raced over from halfway, goaled by Wilshere & we had daylight again at 14-22. All the pressure came from the home side though & we had scares when both Lennon & Gene got over the line only to lose the ball in the act of grounding it.

A nervy final quarter was set up though when Jon Goddard got over to narrow it to 20-22. However, we mainly weathered the storm with a few moments of good fortune thrown into the mix & then on a rare foray into the opposition half, Hodgy squeezed over & Wilshere added a vital goal to give us breathing space. Still we couldn't relax though as KR fought back through an unconverted Andreas Bauer try to mean that we had to bite our nails until the final hooter brought us blessed-relief & much goonage all round.

After celebrating & cheering the players through their warm-down, myself & Paul got on a bus back into town to have a couple in the Admiral of the Humber before getting a bus back to Selby & a train to York, stopping off to have a few more pints in the Maltings (a quality pub), before a train back home. All in all a shit day out for me but a priceless victory if it can save us from the dreaded drop.

Salford City Reds 18 Hull FC 35

There can be no denying that this was a big one. Hull have under-achieved just as much as us this term & taking them on at home would have to be targeted as a possible 2 points. Our recent record versus Hull has been poor but we've been desperately unlucky on occasions, not least last season when they controversially grabbed a last minute win at The Willows before kicking a last second drop-goal to win the match at the KC. We definitely owed them, big-time.

The early signs were that the players were just as much up for this one, importantly Mal was back (albeit starting from the bench) while Ian Sibbit had got through his long-awaited comeback at Saints and just as in last season's encounter we were out of the blocks very quickly. We created an opening on the left after just 4 minutes & Moule backed himself before duly finishing the move, Wilshere adding a fine conversion. Amazingly from the kick-off we played out a standard set of six ending with a big kick downfield which Shaun Briscoe adjudged was running dead, he waited & waited & waited for the ball to leave the field until it just hopped up at the last minute to give Luke Dorn time to pounce & make it 12-0 after 6 minutes.

It's fair to say though that none of us were getting carried away, we'd been here before of course (not least last season's corresponding fixture when an early Moule effort set us out to a quick 12 point lead only for us to lose). And so it was that quick hands from Horne put Raynor over in the corner. Cooke missed the conversion but more than made up for it with a fine solo try just moments later, 12-10. Time for some changes & Haggy & Mal came on, with Haggy you just instinctively know what will happen. First touch he charged in with the ball before spilling it at the 1st contact & Domic fed it wide to Sing to scoot over the remaining 20 metres unopposed. 12-16.

Paul Cooke was tormenting us by now and his kick through was comfortably gathered by Tickle to stretch the lead, worse was to follow as once again Mal went down clutching his knee & headed down the tunnel. Thankfully Hull couldn't add to the score against a thoroughly disjointed looking Salford side and we went in just about in touch at 12-22.

Amazingly the 2nd half saw a mini-renaissance, we enjoyed far more possession & Robbo's high kick was collected out left by Wilshere for a good try. The goal was superb & we were only 4 points back from Hull now. Haggy decided to gift Hull another 2 points with a reckless high-shot but we continued to look dangerous with ball in hand. Then with a missed kick for touch from a penalty the whole momentum stopped. That one moment seemed to be when we decided to give it up & Horne added a late drop-goal to seal the points for Hull. What followed was an embarrassing defensive effort from the Reds to allow Horne a late try & causing me to do something I'd always considered alien, I left the ground early. As I made my way to the Tavern I heard a cheer, forcing me to run back in at the Variety Club end to see whether we'd raised some token resistance. I was met by Karaoke Steve, "Don't bother Chris.", he said, "They've scored again pal, get yourself a fucking pint". It was the best advice I could have possibly received.