Challenge Cup Final
Hull FC 12 Warrington Wolves 10 - Saturday, 27 August 2016
The
anticipation was building; the bag was packed; the excitement was getting too
much to bear...because Cup Final week had arrived!
After
eight rounds of competition over the past eight months we were down to the
final two teams who would battle it out for the right to be crowned the 2016
Challenge Cup Winners. For one of the leading two sides in Super League it
would mean they had first blood in taking home the first of three pieces of
silverware to be awarded throughout the season.
It wasn’t just the final that I was getting excited about, but it was
the whole weekend of travelling down to London and soaking up the atmosphere of
Cup Final Weekend – my first experience of it since 2007.
You may
recall that I had my tickets for the showpiece event booked before the start of
the season and that gave me the inspiration to follow the competition from
Round 1 back in January so this weekend was going to be extra special and I was
determined to make the most of it.
My
journey to London began on the Thursday evening by first travelling north. I was joining my fellow Barrovians in
watching the final and was travelling down on a pre-arranged bus trip along
with my dad and 46 other rugby fans, most of them being neutral supporters for
the weekend. The bus was leaving Barrow
at 7am so, because I’m frightened of missing out on anything, I travelled up on
the train from Horwich and stayed the night at my parents ahead of an early
start on the Friday morning.
Once on
our way we had another pick up at Ramsden Square, situated a few hundred yards
from Craven Park, the home of Barrow Raiders, and we all settled in for our
entertaining journey to the capital.
Kath took
to the microphone and welcomed us all to the “Mad Trip”. As it was my first time I was dubbed a
‘newbie’ and the first beer on the coach was cracked open as early as 8:30 by
some of the trippers, to which I thought to myself this is going to be a heavy
weekend!
There was
plenty of talk and discussion about the entertainment and catering that would
be provided on the coach but the most concerning and important thing for most
people was that the toilet had moved from the centre to the back of the coach! Cue the first hilarious moment of the weekend
when a couple of the women pulled faces when they misheard the discussion and
refused to use it as they thought it was only a ‘stand up toilet’! People had been asked in the week prior to
the trip what fruit they would like to have on the coach and were sadly
disappointed to find out that their requests of kumquat’s, guavas and passion
fruit had been ignored and had to settle for apples, bananas and a few squashed
peaches.
The
highlight of the trip every year is the buffet that is expertly provided when
we reach our lunchtime stop at Norton Services on the M6. I’d heard a lot about these from my dad who
had been on a few of the trips over the years and was looking forward to it. Thankfully, the sun was beaming down on us
while we were all sat on the grass having a beer and a laugh eating our
ready-made plated buffets. That night’s
game between London Skolars and Toulouse was discussed and a handful of us
decided that as we’re in London for the rugby, why not venture along and watch
another game and show our support to rugby league in the area.
Once we
were back on the coach out came the quiz, the raffle and the bingo. My dad had told me how we might have lucky
seats for the raffle as we were sat next to our own version of Mo Farah, Ian,
who was going for a double win having claimed a clean sweep of prizes in each of
the events last time around.
Unfortunately it didn’t work out that well for us as the only prize we
managed to win was a box of Haribo Tangfastics.
At last
the coach pulled up outside our hotel at around 4pm, nearly nine hours after
setting off, we swiftly found our rooms, unpacked our bags, got changed and
proceeded to head back out to explore the area.
Russell Square tube station was just around the corner from our hotel so
after being fed and watered we made the 20 minute journey to Wood Green. We gave up on catching the bus when one went
by without stopping so enjoyed a sunny walk down White Hart Lane to the New
River Stadium for that night’s rugby fix.
The game
was very well attended by Skolars’ standards, partly due to a beer festival
taking place on site at the same time.
The first half saw the Skolars make a decent game of it and were only
six points behind when they scored their second try close to half time but another
converted try for the Frenchmen saw them go into the break with a 22-10 lead
which they would never relinquish. A
total of seven further tries in the second half meant Toulouse ran away with
the game in the end finishing on 58-10.
If I was
disappointed that the on-field entertainment was dull then I had no complaints
whatsoever of the pitch-side shenanigans!
We had already been given a French rendition of the ‘Viking Clap’ war
chant earlier in the match but that was nothing compared to the supporter
decked out in the black and red striped, Dennis The Menace look-a-like, Skolars
mascot outfit who flamboyantly ran up and down the length of the main stand at
the slightest murmur of “Come on Skolars”.
By the end of the match people got wise and someone would strategically
shout Skolars at one end of the stand before someone else at the other end
would do the same in order to watch him sprint majestically from one end of the
stand to the other in a heart-warming show of passionate and loyal support for
the losing side.
After the
game I eventually made my way back to our hotel by being reluctantly dragged
along (sorry, appreciating) all the sights of the “local architecture” along
the route with my dad, Andy, John, et al. before enjoying a night cap with our
fellow Barrovians in the lounge.
The next
day was Saturday, which meant Match Day, and having wolfed down
breakfast we got ourselves ready for what would be another long day. Most of the talk about the game the day
before had been one of hope for a classic, close final as Wembley was due one
having not had a “real cup final” for a few years, and the general consensus
was that Warrington would sneak it. It
was going to be a close game as the bookies could barely split the two sides so
I was really looking forward to it by this point. Besides, it had to be better than last year’s
final!
The
anticipation was building as more and more supporters were jumping on at each
and every stop. Because most of us were
there for one thing we were smiling and chatting amongst each other about the
game ahead. Fans of different teams
jovially talking to each other in the same vicinity I hear you say?
The locals must have thought we’d all gone mad ... bloody Northerners! And with the vast amount of colours from the
various rugby shirts on show you’d have been forgiven for thinking that there
had been an explosion in a nearby paint factory.
After
getting off at the wrong tube stop for Wembley Way (or should I say Olympic Way
as it’s now called) we had just enough time to walk around to take a quick snap
of the throngs of supporters coming up from Wembley Park station, buy a match
programme and make our way into the ground to find our seats. There was a real ale bar on the concourse
which we hastily made our way towards so my dad could get a “proper pint of
beer” and at just under £5 a pint I didn’t think that was too bad. Naturally we didn’t want to come back before
half time so we purchased two each and the waitress kindly gave us a tray to
carry them off to our seats. Now the old
man gets the shakes, apparently when he’s hot, so having had to walk some
distance that morning, I opted to carry the tray of drinks up to our seats
otherwise anyone watching would have been treated to a remake of Julie Walters’
‘Two Soups’ sketch from the Victoria Wood show.
As funny as that would have been I rather liked the idea of keeping my
pints as full as possible.
The game
got underway in an exciting yet tense atmosphere and it seemed to seep down to
the players on the pitch as neither side looked particularly capable of scoring
the opening points. Warrington were
making the early yards and trying to put as much pressure as they could on the
Hull defence but the strong pack held firm and their line wasn’t breached until
six minutes before the break. I was
thinking that we may see a 0-0 score line at half time and I couldn’t think of
the last time I witnessed a match where that happened. But Chris Sandow claimed an impressive break and
almost scored himself until he was brought down mere meters from the try line
right in front of the Hull fans but Matty Russell was on hand to break through
for the first try. After Matt Gidley’s
conversion Warrington led 6-0 at the break but Hull were still in the game.
After a
quick toilet break and having replenished our liquids at the bar I came back to
my seat for the second half but somehow lost my balance turning towards my seat
and spilled some of my pint down a lady's back in the row in front. Thankfully she was part of our group and
forgave me although that can’t be said for Andy who accidentally kicked a full
bottle of Carlsberg from under his seat which spilled all down the back of her
legs later in the game! Cue the laughter
from everyone around her. Obviously Andy
was more concerned that he’d wasted £4.50 than the fact she now had sodden
legs.
The
second half started with the Hull fans in full voice and when Kurt Gidley
missed a penalty early on the belief was creeping back into our end of the
stadium. That soon dissipated though
when Warrington dived over on the left side for their second try through Ben
Currie but Gidley missed the kick and the score remained 10-0.
The match
turned on its head on the hour when Mark Sneyd sent a perfectly placed 40-20 up
field which stopped literally inches over the line and the Hull fans were on
their feet urging their side to get on the scoreboard. And they did thanks to Mahe Fonua expertly
leaping above Sandow to dive over in front of his own fans to score and when
30,000 Yorkshiremen chanted
“Sneeeeeeeeeeeeeeyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyddddddddd!!!” following his successful
conversion you knew it was game on at 10-6.
Hull’s Steve
Michaels had a try disallowed by the video referee six minutes later but the
tension was really building now as Hull fans all around me were urging their
side forward in the last few minutes. And
when Jamie Shaul managed to dive over the whitewash the whole of our side of
the stadium erupted with delight. And
when Sneyd added the extra two Hull had the lead for the first time in the
game.
The final
five minutes of that game were possibly the most tense I have ever felt at a
game of any sport whilst there as a neutral.
I was desperate for Hull to hold on an give their fans what they had
been craving for weeks. After they took
the lead there was a family of four sat next to us who all had tears streaming
down their cheeks and just in front of them was a bloke who must have been
sitting on hot coals as every time he sat down he sprung straight back up again
which his head in his hands and turning around unable to watch.
But
Warrington should have snatched it right at the death with another try but,
thanks to a herculean tackle by Danny Houghton on Currie, the game was ended
with a knock on. When the final hooter sounded
seconds later the Hull fans were delirious and there was not a dry eye in the
house all around us.
Throughout
the game I couldn’t help thinking that one day I might be there at Wembley
supporting my own team. I wasn’t born
when Barrow last played at Wembley and, ironically, that was my dad’s first
Wembley final, but everyone can dream can’t they?
I stayed
behind to watch the trophy being presented to the victors which capped off a
memorable season of watching rugby league for me.
I chatted with the mother of the family of four and was pleased for her
two young sons who had just witnessed history being made by their heroes. For me, that showed just what it means to be a
supporter of any age of any rugby team – it doesn’t matter if you're top of Super
League or bottom of League 1, your fans will always follow you through thick
and thin and seeing their ecstasy when you win and despair when you lose makes
you so much stronger as a club.
After the
game we travelled back to Allsops to meet up with some of the guys who had been
at the game and was also treated to a cameo appearance of a life-long school
friend of mine, Stewart, who had moved down to Twickenham in February to work
for the London Irish rugby club and had been to the final with a friend. Tonight was just a flying visit for him as he
was off to meet his parents but we arranged to catch up with him again the
following evening for another ‘quiet’ drink.
Sunday was
going to be our touristy day. We had
decided to venture south of the river and visit the Imperial War Museum in the
late morning and I was pleased to wake up after a decent lie in with a more
manageable head than the previous morning.
A short tube ride to Waterloo found us in the right spot to walk the 15
minute journey to our destination. You
forget how much of a tourist you are when you’re in London because, after what
felt like a decent five minute walk, we realised we had only succeeded in
walking around in a big circle to the back of Waterloo train station and hadn’t
gone that far at all! But, after
spending an hour depressing ourselves with a walk through the Holocaust
Exhibition at the museum, we decided we needed to get some lunch back in the
City.
As we’d
pre-arranged to meet Stewart for a few drinks later that evening we woke
ourselves up, put on our best clobber, splashed on our best ‘eau de toilette’
and ventured out for our final night in ‘London Town’. We needed to line our stomachs and the pub
grub we went for near the hotel was nice but rather confusing – who knew that
in London you can buy a cheese and ham toasted sandwich with a salad off the
menu but when you ask for a side of chips to share, you can’t do that? No, apparently you have to buy the chips on
your plate with your toastie and share a side dish of salad! Bloody
Southerners!
Anyone
who knows me understands the plight I have to suffer with when I break the seal
and as dad was concerned about the amount of times I kept going off to spend a
penny over the whole weekend his solution was to keep me off the ales and make
me drink shorts. Therefore my first few
rounds consisted of vodkas with coke or lemonade. Needles to say I was feeling a little tiddly after
four or five ‘doubles’.
We caught
up with Stewart in Leicester Square and we wandered into to the Moon Under
Water pub next to the giant Odeon cinema where all the major film premiers are
shown. Unfortunately there were no
famous film stars around but there was the chance for my dad to enjoy a half
decent pint at last after a weekend of varying degrees of failure. There was also plenty of young local talent
on show for Stewart who, being a young bachelor in London, was never going to
turn down any opportunities to chat and who would be better suited to play
wingman than...my 63-year-old father! Leaving
me to talk amongst myself and establish the suitability of the little boys room
one such 20-something Londoner came and shared our table and amused us by
not knowing where Twickenham was. One of
her friends, Tristan, a cross between Mark Wright and Joey Essex, took a shine
to my old man even going so far as giving him a hug! Luckily for dad time was soon called and it
was time for Stewart to head home and for us to make our way back to our hotel
where, lo and behold, our party of fellow Barrovians were still awake drinking
in the lounge and we enjoyed a final chin wag and drink before heading to bed.
The
journey home on the Monday was always going to be a slow and quiet one with a
few sore heads on the coach. The previous
night had resulted in Kath and Tony announcing that this was definitely going
to be the last coach trip that they organised, having done so for the last 19
years to such a high and well-respected standard, and it was now time for them
to pass the baton on to someone else despite the banter and protestations from
other coach trippers that they should continue for at least another year.
I know
that I’ve probably rambled on throughout this blog but so much happened over
the weekend that I wanted to share it with you.
Ultimately, it’s time for me to sign off from my own adventure and I am proud
to say I have been able to complete my personal challenge of attending a game
in every round of the Challenge Cup this season. It was a random thought I had whilst watching
the Round 1 tie between Leigh Miners and Underbank way back in January and it
has all gone so fast since then that it’s hard to believe my journey is
actually over. I was extremely fortunate
that I didn’t have to do too much travelling this season from where I
live near Leigh and I’d be lucky if I had the same outcome again if I were to
do it a second time.
I’ve spoken
to a lot of supporters from a variety of different clubs over these last few
months about what I was doing and why and not one of them knew of anyone who
had also done this or attempted it. I’d
like to think I may be the first person to accomplish this off his or her own back and
using their own time and money to do so, but if you have also achieved this
feat, or know of anyone who has, please let me know in the comments below and
I’ll happily congratulate you.
Thanks again
to everyone I’ve met along the way at the various clubs and grounds I’ve
visited. Your input, help and
light-hearted conversation has been extremely valuable and hopefully our paths
will cross again in the near future.
The Rugby
League Blogger.
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