25/04/08 (2) - Bring back the biff.
An all expenses paid jaunt to Las Vegas and ringside seats for Calzaghe v Hopkins was an option for the weekend just gone, but instead I chose Rochdale for the fourth round of the Challenge Cup.
After a disgracefully late night out in London’s fashionable Mayfair on Wednesday night I couldn’t face the long journey early on Friday morning so I gave the ticket to our boxing trader Sam and bet the fight in-running for the firm on his behalf. Heart of gold I’ve got.
The mists of time have closed in a little (on me, at least) since our last visit to Spotland, which I’m guessing was about eighteen years ago.
I thought it was a Challenge Cup tie, but my mate Karl suggested the Hornets had spent a year in the top flight. We both recalled our late winning try and subsequent 70s-style pitch invasion from behind the sticks, although I thought a young Steve McNamara had been the hero of the hour, with Truthy bestowing the honour upon Aussie import Brad Webb.
What I‘d certainly forgotten was that our euphoric celebration was fuelled by the strong Belgium lager we’d apparently consumed pre-match in the clubhouse. And that my mate Ciaran – now resident in Sydney, Australia – was part of the travelling faithful, resplendent, so Karl assures me, in a Reni-style hat (a must have accessory for any self-respecting young Northern scally in the late eighties and early nineties).
Seated with Jennifer and my Dad and brother and no longer high on the natural adrenalin of youth, Rochdale 2008 was a less eventful affair, although the game was notable for the home team’s decidedly physical approach to proceedings. The resulting series of dust-ups, went down extremely well with the speccies, and did indeed take those of us old enough to (at least vaguely) remember the eighties down memory lane – back to that golden rugby league era in which the rules were no more than general guidelines, there were no camera lenses zooming in on any small indiscretion (like lamping your opposite number in the first scrum), and getting your retaliation in first was all part and parcel of the game.
Beside their physicality The Hornets were tenacious from first minute to last and defended the 42 point handicap mark as if their lives, and not just my monkey, depended on it. Fair play.
Peter Sharpe described the 80 minutes as a “circus”. But when was the last time you failed to have fun at the big top? Super League’s just too darn clean these days. Bring back the biff, I say.
