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.