Huddersfield Giants 16 Salford City Reds 18

Sometimes when you give up all hope, when you think that nothing good will ever happen in the rest of your days, something unexpectedly wonderful occurs. This was one of those days and it started in the most unanticipated of fashions. A healthy throng of Salford supporters were gathered on the concourse of Piccadilly station for the early train to Huddersfield, all of which were agreed that there was no chance today that we could stop our fellow strugglers from gaining the W. And by all, I mean all, even Bobby could see no possible way that we could win today! This was a very unusual (and slightly disturbing) turn of events.

The day got off to a very bad start, our early train was very, very delayed. The kind of delay that Transpennine Express have made a signature of their piss-poor service. This meant that the Wetherspoon's breakfast which had been long anticipated was a non-starter, Koppabergs all round instead then! The return of the Pakistan cricket team was headline news after Bob Woolmer's apparent murder & Karl came up with the joke of the day; "Pakistan are giving up cricket. Apparently they're taking up Bobsleighing".

We stayed in the Cherry Tree for quite a while before heading down towards the ground. We managed to squeeze an extra passenger in our cab by getting Deano to lay on the floor, however, the driver had the last laugh by dropping us in some side-street miles away from the ground and charging us £7 for the privilege. Cnut!

After getting our bearings back we stopped for a quick un in the Market Tav & headed to the Galpharm and it's wonderfully named Pink Link away stand. Alker's injury left us without a recognised hooker & the club had moved quickly to sign Catalan Dragons' David Berthezene on a month's loan. Despite only arriving in England a few days earlier Bertie was, as expected, thrown straight in to the starting XIII.

Huddersfield looked fired up from the word go but our defence looked far more resolute than in recent weeks & after 6 minutes we got the start we wanted. After initially running the ball on the 6th, Wilshere 's options seemed limited so he placed a smart kick across the sticks. Skandalis should have dealt with it comfortably but he inexplicably allowed Robbo to pounce & give us a 6-0 lead. Huddersfield huffed & puffed without ever seriously threatening our line until Hodgy failed to deal with a harmless looking kick & Gardner pounced. We were being hammered in the penalty count & it was no great surprise when we were eventually reduced to 12 men as Berthezene's promising start was slightly tarnished with a yellow card.

Most of us would have been thrilled if we could just keep the Giants at bay until Bertie came back on for the last few minutes of the half but Luke Adamson had other ideas. Making a great break from his own 20, the young 2nd rower just kept on going and going and going. He was finally caught about 20 metres out but Hudds just couldn't get the numbers back & Robbo scampered over from the resultant play the ball.

12-4 up at half-time would surely have seen us coast through to victory against a team whose confidence was slightly more fragile than even ours but right on the siren some poor defence allowed Nero through & Thorman finished the move off. 10-12 at half-time.

The consensus on the concourse at half-time was that the next score would be crucial & our early pressure paid off when Robbo put young Jordan Turner through the gap to ground wide out. The goon from the players seemed to suggest that they thought this try was crucial too! John Wilshere's fine conversion restored our 2 score advantage & it was happy days again.

Any thoughts that we might cut loose & give ourselves a nice relaxing afternoon were quickly dispelled, Hudds started to pile on the pressure towards our line. Eventually & inevitably we conceded & Andy Raleigh crossed to being the Giants within 2, squeaky bum time. We were being mullered in the penalty count by Mr Silverwood from nearby Dewsbury & when the Giants got another pen 30 metres out I prayed that they'd elect to take the 2 and we could escape with a draw. They did, phew, and even better Thorman missed the kick! The remaining minutes were absolute agony, I've no idea how much stoppage time they played but it seemed to go on forever. Finally, with time surely up, we put in a poor kick on the last in the Huddersfield 20 and throwing caution to the wind, they worked the ball to the left wing. I have no idea who broke down the flank but I could sense the heartbreak that was looming as he roared towards our line. Thankfully Dorn got across to cover & dump him in touch sparking goonage in our end (in which I took an elbow flush in the face). So much jubilation that we didn't even hear the hooter, I only noticed the game had finished via the players' wild celebrations!

So, for once gleefully, we left a ground to concentrate on the pressing matter of getting as much beer down us as humanly possible. First stop was the Bradley Mills club, just a short walk from the car park (where we paused to consider various ways in which to deface Richard Silverwood's car) for a quick pint before heading across Leeds Road to take in the adult 'entertainment' in Ricky's. After the usual interminable wait while the management get us to part with as much beer money as possible, the ropey stripper duly arrived on stage. It's hard to believe but Ricky's used to provide top quality birdage for the entertainment. Today's was another cellulite-ridden hard-faced girl going through the motions for a bit of pin-money. I swear I'll never return to that place, most Reds already seem to have made that decision, there can't have been more than a dozen of us in there.

The walk back into town is punctuated by a pop into the Market Tav to see if anyone's around. Nic's in there & so are Bobby & his crew so we stop for a quick pint before piling into a taxi to the Warehouse where we pick over the bones of the game with some Huddersfield fans (with the pleasing spectacle of Warrington getting humped playing on the TV's around us). From there I head into town with Martin where we make camp in a pub that has a singer on. His set is lapped up by a throng of Reds singing & dancing along. As he finishes Danny Holmes comes up with a new song for our much maligned stand-off as Paul Johnson's "Get, Get Down" becomes a mass of Salford fans dancing around & changing the lyric to "Dorn, Dorn, Dor-Dorn"! This spectacle continues all the way down to the Cherry Tree where we kill the last hour or so before getting on a train home, pausing only to nick posters & antimacassars from said transport. The night is complete when we stop the taxi home to pick up a traffic-cone & bring home the souvenir that Martin's mum had requested. Great day/night.