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.
Saturday 30 June 2007
Salford City Reds 14 Huddersfield Giants 12
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.
Saturday 16 June 2007
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.
